Erik watched her from the threshold.
He had to apologize to her somehow. He had made his own mistakes too, so a little truce of sorts, a declaration of peace would be the best thing to do. Resentment was useless to him now. Even though she could not show anything with her throat, her voice... it was obvious in her eyes, in the bruises on her wrists and in her attitude that she had gone through a hard time.
But he did not want to push her. He would allow her to tell him herself. He retired slowly, a half-smile gracing his lips. He would have never thought that, someday, he would be doing that again...
She tied her irregular hair as best as she could. In spite of being careful, some tresses scaped the knot and settled upon her cheeks.
She was aware that what she was doing was totally crazy, that her objective was a lost cause and that she couldn't go on like that anymore... However, how to control herself?
The only thing she had completely clear was that what she was about to do was her last resort. Her nerves were on edge as she left her bedroom.
She opened her eyes, sitting bolt upright on the bed and looked at the clock in front of her. It was nearly noon. It was not strange, taking into account that it had been almost impossible to fall asleep the night before. She spent a good few hours tossing and turning between the sheets. She had too many things in which to think about.
She was suffering, for seeing Erik like that and for herself. She was distressed because he had lied to her, though his intentions were to save her concern. Wasn't it better to tell her the truth openly? Had he lost all trust in her? On the other side, her intuition was like a little inner voice that kept whispering to her that maybe she was better left in the dark, unknowing...
Was it really better that way?
Everything between them had become an almost deathly silence but there were lots of things to tell each other at the same time. A little of the magic they had at the beginning still remained when they were together. It was odd and upsetting.
She could not go on like that. Without being sure about his real feelings, whether he hated her or loved her. If there was anything true about her suspicions regarding his relationship with Angie. If… God, if there was any possibility of winning him back someday. Sometimes it looked like she could, while other times it seemed as if she hadn't the least chance of it.
Her eyes turned glassy for a moment but when she looked away, at her bedside table, she felt her heart skip a beat and then thunder inside her chest. Her gaze lit up immediately.
A beautiful red rose with a black ribbon rested elegantly on the wooden surface.
She held it but not with tremulous hands as she had done other times before...
Perhaps that rose represented the beginning of their re-acquaintance, of a time in which they would get back to be who they were to each other in the past.
She smiled widely, getting lost in the flowers' perfume.
At last a practically mystic silence reigned in the house. His head was lowered, slightly tilted to one side, as he observed carefully his work and gave the final touches to his last design.
Those were the only moments in which nothing else but work became the focus of his attention. That was when he could escape the haunting thoughts and worries… escape Angie…
But, how longer could he keep that façade, the distance, the silence?
No. It was absolutely impossible. The truth would have to come out into the light and he felt that he would not stand the weight of all that anymore if he did not spoke to her soon, if he did not tell her once and for all.
In the most brusque way, everything had become a fight for stopping a blinded person overnight…
As blinded as he himself had been because of the jealousy and the possessiveness, perhaps?
He stood up, dropping his head backwards. Now he feared facing someone who was too much like him.
What he saw when he moved his head to the normal position did not help him feel better.
Angeline was there, a serene expression on her face and…
Three red roses on her right hand.
He stared, his body tense but keeping the composture. 'I'm surprised at your visit after our last conversation'.
She smiled. What did she want? Why did she suddenly look so calmed again?
'That's exactly why I'm here…', she held out the hand with the roses. 'I was wandering if you'd accept my apologies. You see, perhaps if we talked things over with more tranquillity…'.
He took the roses and looked at them for a moment. 'Thank you, dear, but I can't accept them…'.
Angie frowned, taken aback and saddened at the same time. 'It's only a gift, Erik...', her tone was apathetic.
He left the roses aside and glared. 'It's a nice gesture but I can't accept it. Besides, I thought you had already spoken your mind last night regarding myself...', the bitterness in his voice stressed his point. 'Furthermore, roses don't bring me exactly wonderful memories either...'. He had turned his back on her by then.
She tried to catch hold of one of his arms, to calm him down, convince him to talk to her. 'I understand... what you mean but please, I just want to talk to you...'.
He removed her hand agressively, as he threw the roses to the floor in one wave of his arm. He turned to her, his face just a few inches from hers.
'You don't understand it yet, don't you?', his tone dropped lower but it was high enough to be heard. 'Angeline, these are my feelings and you cannot do anything to change them', he pushed her away but she was still too close to him. 'You cannot change that I love her!'.
And just as she had stated her revelation, he had ended up signing his own confession.
That last sentence brought silence again to the living-room. And froze Angie's heart.