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Weekdays for work. Weekends for driving lesson.
Colleagues got over the shock quickly.
Liam and Mom stayed blocked in my blacklist.
The silence was blissful.
I felt like a tree. Though injured, it grew in the daily sun and rain.
One late night after work, I grabbed a hot dog from a convenience store near my place.
I munched and hummed, feeling okay.
The elevator doors opened. I found Liam standing outside my door.
How long had he been waiting?
He looked gaunt. His shirt hung loose.
Stubble shadowed his jawline.
"Sophie."
His voice cracked, hoarse and thick with tears.
I snapped back, bit into the hot dog and walked past him.
In pretense that he was air.
"Sophie. Please. Can we talk?"
"I know you hate me. Don't want to see me."
"I tried... not disturbing you... but I can't let go..."
"Sophie, just one chance? Please?"
"No."
My calmness surprised me. I neither slapped him nor cursed him, just saying a “No”.
Had the peak anger passed?
Liam fell silent after my refusal.
I punched in my door code and went inside.
He remained frozen outside.
It wasn't until I spilled water down myself in the kitchen that I realized my control was an illusion.
Seeing Liam shattered my inner peace.
My friend was right -- Nine years. How could I not hurt?
Wiping the spill, I remembered Mom's yelling about blood on the floor at her visit.
It was Liam's blood. Probably.
