Helga zipped up her last suitcase and looked in her now empty apartment. Reaching in her back pocket she pulled out the once beautiful lace embroidered paper and read the invitation again, masochist that she was.

Ms. Rhonda Wellington Lloyd
and
Mr. Arnold Philip Shortman
request the honor of your presence
at their wedding…

Yep. Still hurt. That knife still twisted. The blade may have dulled but the pain hadn't since she learned the news. It had been months since she saw him, since he ran away and she tried to sting her heart back together.

She was on autopilot when she heard the knock at the door, and she still clutched the half-full suitcase in her hand while opening the door with the other. Gasping she dropped her suitcase as she let her eyes trail her visitor. Staring at Arnold, she could see the rain made his tuxedo look painted on. He looked like a wet puppy begging for forgiveness. The storm really did him in. She wanted him to be a mess, to look haggard and withered for rejecting her but he stood in front of her looking beautiful as ever. Damn him.

They stood in silence for minutes, her too shocked to say anything and him breathing harshly from running from his car to her door.

"What are you doing here?"

He frowned at her harsh tone. She wasn't going to make this easy for him. If there was any hope, she wasn't going to show it.

"I-I couldn't do it." He shrugged. "Called it off."

She shouldn't care, really. He chose Rhonda. Still decided to run away with no thought to her feelings or their budding friendship. But hearing those words caused tiny flutters in her stomach. Still, he didn't need to know that. "Why should I care?" She grabbed her suitcase and left him at the door, turning to continue packing.

Wasting no time he let himself in, closed the door behind him and followed her into her empty apartment. The boxes, the suitcase, the empty walls and non-existent furniture made it clear. She was planning to run away.

"It's been a long ride and sometimes my imagination gets the best of me. It looks like your leaving." One look in her broken eyes confirmed it. "Why are you doing this?"

Never missing a beat, she continued to pack, not looking up at him before she responded. "This isn't one of your daydreams. This is really happening. I am really leaving."

He walked closer to her reaching for her shoulder. "Helga you don't—"

She backed away grabbing her suitcase. Her voice wavered but she no longer cared. "No, I do. I really do. I opened up to you. I told you the truth, offered you my heart and you crushed it. I can't just sit around like a fool hoping that you give me yours."

You know what happens when you keep things bottled up? You're in a state of constant misery. You're always tense, addled with paranoia. You get headaches frequently, have digestive ailments, tend to have poor posture, raise your blood pressure, and are more prone to ulcers.

She looked into the eyes of the boy that was her whole world. The boy that hung the moon. The boy that was both her salvation and her undoing and spoke words that tilted her world on its axis. "I'm done."

And what happens when you finally let it out? Healing. Tremendous healing. Your body releases happy endorphins, you breathe deeper, smiles threaten to hurt your cheeks but most of all you become free.

Arnold looked at her and could hardly breathe. His chest constricted. His head hurt. What was she doing? How could she not know?

Fear has a sadistic way of enslaving. Of casting doubt and crippling self-worth. It can be debilitating, it causes people to settle, can be a precursor to regret and bitterness.

But truth, which defeats many vices, is freedom. Is perfection.

For once he decided to follow truth. To ease the ache that mounted in his heart. He held her shoulders. One hand ran down her arm until he got to her hand and detached the suitcase there, placing it on the floor. Panicked, he held her close to him and prayed she wouldn't pull away. He couldn't let her leave. Not like this. "I want to be with you."

There was a time when those words were a cure all. When she would had stopped time to hear them. But not now. Now they were cruel, placating things. He knew just how to destroy her, he knew the words that would unravel her last shred of dignity. And what's worse, she wanted him to. Because despite the pain, desperation and insecurity she felt (all completely self-inflicted) he colored her world. She was sure she imagined hearing them. That they were distorted and were not really there to begin with. What other explanation could there be? That they were true? She nodded and nuzzled deeper in his chest.

But he was just getting started. His soul wasn't satisfied with rivulets of truth. He needed to tell it all because if he didn't he couldn't live. He wasn't sure he'd want to without her anyway. "I've loved you for a long time and it used to scare me. When you told me you loved me I thought I needed to get away from you, try to move on, get you out of my system. Because if you loved me just an ounce of how much I loved you and you ever left, you would destroy me. I couldn't have another person I love leave, so I did the leaving. I had to be in control." He laughed at how stupid his logic was and ran a nervous hand through his rain soaked hair. "It didn't matter though cause you were in every face I saw, every location I found. I realized you're a part of me. Time, distance, circumstance, none of it could change what you mean to me, what we mean to each other. But I'm most afraid of you leaving me, of a life without you in it. And I know it won't be easy, but it's worth it. Because you're priceless. You're everything."

He closed his eyes as he tried to slow his breathing down. The only reason he was still standing was because her body was pressed against his giving him strength and warmth. A beat past between them. Then another. It had to be said and he had to say it. He had to relinquish control. He had to let go. "I love you."

She broke away from him slightly, shaking her head while marveling at his words. He didn't mean it. She knew. He was beautiful, but deadly as poison. He seeped into her pores as she inhaled him slowly, dying a little bit everyday she was near him until she couldn't take it and crumbled.

He just didn't want to be without his ego boost. Having someone's devotion must have looked nice from his side of unrequited love. But when she looked in his eyes, all glassy and full of sincerity, she knew he was telling the truth. He was too good of a person to toy with her. Too good of a person to be with her. Too good of a person period. But he still chose her. She was so happy she was speechless. Instead of saying it, she mouthed it because she didn't know if her heart could take it. "Me too."

Steady tears streamed down her cheeks. Tears of elation, of relief, of understanding.

For so long she warred with herself. It was nice to have a moment's peace. A moment of pure clarity where nothing was second-guessed or regretted. She was right where she belonged. In his arms with her head nestled near his chest, hearing his heartbeat. Losing herself again in his eyes she took a deep breath. This is what she was missing. This moment with him was worth all the miscues and worth all the pain.

She stepped away so he could see how important her next words would be. No longer hiding, she was interested in full disclosure. "You need to know some things now while I'm strong enough to let you go. You need to know what you're getting yourself into because I'm not her."

He grabbed her wrists and used his thumb to rub circles at her pulse point. How could he make her melt with one simple touch? "I know that—"

She put her hand up to his chest. "Please let me finish. I have to get this out."

Worrying her bottom lip she paced in front of him for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and standing in front of him. "I'm not perfect. I won't cook you dinner every night, Hell I can't boil water. I'm messy and uncoordinated. I'm not dainty or graceful. Sometimes I yell, sometimes I swear. I'll push you away when things get too intense. That's me. That's what I bring to the table. All I can give you is my heart. It's tattered. It's distrustful. But it's all yours if you want it.

And did he ever want it. In a lot of ways, he's always wanted her heart. Wanted her trust, craved her love and approval. Now she was willingly offering it. And it was the greatest gift anyone ever gave him.

Bending, he placed a soft sweet kiss on her lips. "Darling I wouldn't have you any other way. And I want your heart, your mind, your spirit, all of it. Helga, you're perfect."