The clink of forks on dishes fills the space that settles over us as we eat.
I welcome the break, focusing on the rich flavors that dance across my tastebuds. Devouring my food, my energy slowly returns.
Mentally and physically, I’ve been drug through the mud tonight. A few days ago, I was set to step into my dream life.
Now I have the weight of the world and the fate of my people resting on my shoulders.
Belly full and plate empty, I push back from the table.
“This was delicious, thank you. I’ll wash dishes because you guys cooked.” I gather the plates, ignoring the heavy weight of their eyes.
“We decided to have a few minutes of one-on-one with Ylva while you were gone,” Cadoc explains to Bo.
Bo crosses an ankle over his leg. “Who goes first?”
“I’ll go last. I want to check her one more time before she goes to sleep,” Kirk nods toward me.
“I’ll help with the dishes,” Fell stands gathering more dishes.
I shrug. Waiting won’t make our conversation any easier.
I turn on the faucet and focus on rinsing the plates.
“I’ll load,” he holds out his hands.
“Deal.”
Chairs scrape over the wooden floor and the others leave us alone. Music plays from the entertainment system in the living room. I appreciate the volume of the TV.
“I know this is the last thing you wanted for your life, but I’m glad you’re back,” Fell’s soft voice wafts over me. I want to sink into the concern I hear, but I can’t trust it.
I keep my heart hardened by replaying the rejection and depression that followed his ghosting in my mind.
The silence becomes cloying as we go through the motions completing the domestic task.
He tries once more to start the conversation.
“I never stopped missing you.”
“And whose fault is that?” I place a hand on my hip.
Fell grunts. “It was complicated.”
“Why? If you weren’t okay with a long-distance relationship, all you had to do was say something before I accepted my scholarship. I had plenty of options.”
“I know.”
His lack of response and the sour scent of regret reignite the anger I’ve never worked through.
I gape. “That’s all you have to say?”
“There are no words to fix things between us.” He fills the dishwasher soap dispenser.
“At least you recognize that,” I can’t keep the harshness from my words.
“I don’t regret having a second chance with you. What we had we so good.”
“I used to think that.” But you don’t abandon people you love the way I did with no explanation.
“Please don’t do that,” Fell’s voice shakes.
“Do what?” I hold my hands up as frustration knots my gut, and my annoyance grows.
“Doubt the validity of our love. I ruined everything. Not you,” he swallows, hard.
“Why can’t you explain it to me?” I hate the desperation in my voice.
“It doesn’t matter why—”
“It might.”
“Agree to disagree.” The tight set of his jaw reflects his regret.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“Four years is a long time. You’re not the only one who’s changed, or been through difficult times.”
There’s a darkness in him that wasn’t there before. Turning from me, he shuts the dishwasher and starts it.
