My shoulders become even heavier than they already were. I lower my eyes. The hands on the watch continue to move. "It's 3:35 p.m. The time is up."
"Maybe he got delayed," my friend replies, and once again, I'm grateful that at least she could forgive me.
I wish her conviction would be enough for both of us, but it isn't. "It would have been better to send him a letter."
I didn't want to pressure him.
But perhaps it was simply naive to believe that a few cryptic words on a postcard would be enough.
Seeking help, I look around the park, but my eyes find no anchor. I'm surrounded by elderly people reading newspapers, bustling activities, and screaming children. Over there, on the wooden bench, a white-haired man sits, staring into nothingness, alone.
"He will come," Sky mumbles, probably because she doesn't know what else to say.
Silently, I nod. "Yes," I reply and bid her farewell.
Neither of us can know what will happen in the next few minutes. No matter how convinced Sky is. And no matter how much I wish he would show up, I can't influence it.
Right now, my fate lies solely in Maxime's hands.
