Then, the unexpected happened. The police knocked on my door and behind them stood Brian—disheveled, unshaven and desperate. Before I could speak, he pulled me into his arms, holding me as if letting go would shatter him.
For a brief moment, it felt like old times.
I had once dreamed of being held this tightly, cradled against his chest, where his scent—now mixed with alcohol and regret—wrapped around me. But dreams and reality are cruelly different.
The heart longs for what the mind cannot accept. And in that moment, even though his touch brought comfort, it couldn’t erase the truth.
Our love was broken beyond repair.
Brian’s voice trembled as he spoke, his usually calm demeanor shattered.
“Elise, do you even understand how terrified I was when I thought something might happen to you?”
His words hung in the air, heavy but strangely hollow.
“How would I explain it to your father if something happened to you?”
Of course, I thought bitterly. His concern wasn’t for me—it was for his promise to my father. He didn’t love me. He never did. He was just fulfilling an obligation.
The police chimed in, their words a quiet reminder of societal expectations.