Dammit, of course I do.
"You wanted your children to have a better life someday," my reflection says, as if it knows no boundaries. Then it grins maliciously. "Which children were those again?"
I glower at him and threaten him with a raised fist. If he doesn't stop right away, I'll smash him. "Shut up!"
"With whom do you want to have them? With one of thecountlesswomen you've been with in the past years?" He spits out the words full of sarcasm. "Or with the one you will always love but never forgive?"
What's the point of this? He knows very well that neither one is possible. "Dammit, that's not what this is about!" Whether Aurora and I can have children together is not important. I don't care if we're two, three, or ten. First and foremost, it's about Aurora. And it always has been.
With pity in his eyes, he looks at me. "You will never love anyone else like her."
No. That's not true.
Only that one unanswered question has held me back from entering a new relationship all these years. I have it now. I can fall in love again. Certainly.
"If you choose against Aurora today, you will regret it for the rest of your life," the worn-out guy in the mirror warns me. "Goto her and find out what she wants to tell you. It won't leave you in peace anyway."
"I have a job to do," I counter. "This is the most important deal of the year. If I don't go to London to seal it, my boss will kick me out on the spot."
"Well, please, you have more than enough time until departure." He shrugs.
Yeah, right. It's that simple. "Leave me alone."
For a moment, the corners of his mouth lift. "That's not going to happen."
I close my eyes and breathe out heavily. "Of course not."
He is me.
I am me.
And no matter what happens, I will forever remain myself. I can't run away from myself, just as I can't run away from my problems.
"Give her a chance," a voice whispers, and I can't tell if it actually exists or if it's just in my thoughts. "Give yourself a chance."
In torment, I tear myself away from my own reflection. But instead of heading to the suitcase in the bedroom, I walk to the living room and open the dresser drawer. In a trance, I push aside the box with cables and the folder with my personal documents. I sweep the stack of utility bills to the floor.
As the paper sails through the air with a loud rustle, what I was searching for comes into my field of vision.
At the back, in the far corner of the cabinet, where hardly a beam of light breaks through the darkness, the golden fittings of the box glow as if they were a treasure.
I pull it out, sit in a cross-legged position, and place the box in front of me on the floor.
One by one, I open the drawers, stare into their cold emptiness, and close them again.
It's too late! my reason screams, and this here is the proof.
Give her a chance! my heart shouts.
Then suddenly, both fall silent. And all at once, it's so quiet that I can only hear the urgent ticking of my wristwatch.
