Everyone was surprised by how well Arabelle handled the blow. She didn't cry, she wasn't angry or sad. She chose not to feel anything. The following day she threw herself back in to work with most nights not even bothering to come home, she preferred to work night shifts than sleep in the room that they had once shared. She avoided all things that reminded her of him, which was a lot. But before long the hours began to blur into each other and the days began to speed up.
The engagement ring Charlie gave her was locked away in a box in the back of the draw of her dressing table. That way it was somewhere she wouldn't have to see it or think about what their life could have been. She tended to avoid talking to people now, like she did when she was younger. The sympathetic looks they gave her, as if she were a neglected puppy, made her feel sick.
A week after Charlie had left, eight letters arrived home for each of them, all containing a personal apology and goodbye from him. Arabelle's was left untouched on the mantle piece for her, but when she returned home from the hospital that evening she took one look at the envelope with her name written in his scruffy handwriting she had seen thousands of times before and threw it into the fire place, lighting it with a spark from her wand and headed straight for her room. Everyone in the living room watched her open mouthed before Molly broke the silence.
"Don't you want to hear what he has to say?" She exclaimed. Arabelle stopped half way up the stairs, she had barely spoken to anyone since he had left, which had hurt Molly's feelings. She had tried to comfort Arabelle a few times, Hoping for some sign of emotion to emerge from her, but she rebuffed Molly every time and continued walking around with a deadened spirit. Even Fred and George, no matter how hard they had tried couldn't provoke any kind of emotion out of her. Not a laugh, a scream, tears, nothing was penetrating her cold exterior. Arabelle turned and looked through Molly with her glassy expression she always wore these days.
"I don't really care what he has to say" she said, "He chose to leave so what more is there to say anyway." Turning on her heel she made her way up the stairs.
When she got to her room she took off her uniform hanging it over the mirror. She always made sure something was covering it, so she didn't catch a glimpse of herself, and how the breakup was taking a toll on her body. She had lost a few pounds already because she never felt like eating anymore. Her skin was pale and pulledtight over her bones making the tattoo script on the crook of her arm more noticeable than ever. It was the same tattoo she shared with Charlie, and she now hated it. Her face was always plain with no makeup and her hair tied up and scruffy. She didn't care much what she looked like anymore.
The night-time was Arabelle's least favourite. When the house was dark and quiet and she lay alone in bed, in the room which held all their memories and secrets she would finally stop fighting the tears of the day, letting them roll down her cheeks and allow herself to think of him and wonder if somewhere, miles away he might be thinking of her.