Page 3 of His

I know Astor loves me. And I also know he doesn’t love her—not in the way that he loved me. But this fact doesn’t console me.

I’ve learned that, when the inevitable storm hits, being let down by the person you love the most outweighs the love you share when the waters are calm. Because that’s when we need them the most—not in the calm before the storm, but when we’re drowning. Anyone can love anyone when things go as planned. It’s in the chaos that relationships are either bonded or broken.

And Astor broke me.

It wasn’t forty-eight hours before he showed up for the first time. He sat on my doorstep for hours, calling my name, begging me to answer the door.

That night, he slept on the doormat, while I slept on the other side of the door.

The next morning, Astor tried again, for hours, to no avail. When he returned four days later, he was prepared for me not to answer.

This time he brought a letter.

Four days after that, the same thing—another letter.

For three months I sit against the door and wait until he leaves, with tears streaming down my face.

In the beginning, the letters were gut-wrenching apologies, leaving me in a puddle of tears on the floor. But, as the season has changed, so too have the letters. Today’s reads:

Dear Butterfly,

One of my favorite books is The Art of War.

One of the key principles of this book is that a war must be won before it’s begun. Decisions are made in forethought, not as a reaction to events that have already happened. It’s about selectively choosing to win, regardless of the hurdles before you, and preparing accordingly.

I will win you back, regardless of time or circumstance. I will not give up on you, or on us. I will wait for you for as long as you need. My success—our success—is predetermined and my focus is singular. You.

My reason for waking up is you.

My motivation for continuing to live is quite simply: You.

You will accept me back, Sabine. Because I am yours, and you are mine. We are written in the stars, in my heart. Tattooed on my soul.

I will not stop. I will keep showing up.

I will continue to prove to you that my love for you is eternal. Until one day—one day—you will open that damn door and allow me the opportunity to be the man you’ve always needed me to be.

You, Sabine, have my heart. Please allow me the honor of holding yours once more.

Yours now and forever.

Always waiting,

Astor

Three

Astor

It’s half past eleven in the evening when I pull up to the beach house.

Cillian’s SUV is parked next to Leo’s beat-up Ford. A dim light glows from the kitchen window.

I roll to a stop on the opposite side of the cottage and cut the engine.

Per usual, I sit glued to my seat for a full minute, dreading facing what lays beyond the four walls ahead of me. I gaze at the moon, surrounded by a million twinkling stars. From my vantage point on the cliff, they seem so close that it feels like I could reach out and touch them. I wish I could. I wish I could spread my arms, ascend into the sky and just be free.

Free from myself.

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