Page 108 of Hannah.

“Tell me why!” My voice echoes off the stone walls of the room, my fingernails digging into the flesh of my palms as I have to stop myself from reaching out to shake him. Anything to get an ounce of honesty. “Do you love her?”

Johan is quiet, and he takes a step back, noticing how close we’ve become during the argument. He licks his lips, looking away from my face, and I watch as his hand twitches like he wants to reach out for me. But he stops himself, the appendage falling back to his side.

“I do.” The words hit me like a punch to the stomach, stealing my breath. “I realized Astrid is the right woman for me. I’m sorry, Hannah…I’m sorry?—”

All at once, the breath I thought I’d lost comes roaring back to me. “I don’t believe you!” I’m practically shouting, and Johan gives me a withering glance towards the door. The fact that I’m about to get kicked out doesn’t dampen my fire at all. In fact, it makes me burn brighter. “I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth, Johan. So, spit it out. Do. You. Honestly. Love. Her?”

“Yes!” he roars back. The word bounces off the walls and makes my ears ring. Johan’s expression is pained, but not nearly as pained as I feel. My whole body is vibrating with misery, with confusion.

I want him. He wants Astrid. It’s so clear and so wrong.

“You’re lying,” I tell him softly. “And even if you’re not, then you’re a coward.” Then, so much softer, with all the affection that suddenly has nowhere to go, I add, “What happened to you?”

Johan looks at me with so much yearning that I’m thrown back to that night in the pouring rain, his hands on my face, his lips slanting over mine. When did he look at me like that last? When was the last time his eyes filled with passion and pain in equal measure? When was the last time he touched me? God, I want him to touch me right now.

“What happened to me?” he echoes, resigned and empty. “I’ve come to a point where I have obligations towards my family, and I have to face the music. I’m going to marry Astrid.”

“Obligation!?” My nails bite harder into my flesh. “You’re throwing everything away because of your sense of obligation!? And what about Astrid? Doesn’t she have a say in it? What about you and what do you want? What about me?”

“You don’t belong here,” Johan hisses.

“Of course I don’t fucking belong here.” There are tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. “This place is awful! You and Astrid are so unhappy. Everyone is miserable.”

“I’m not?—”

“You are!” I cry. “I’m standing in front of you, and you’re still not happy. It’s not too late, Johan. Please. Call it all off. Come back to my dorm with me, or to your house, or somewhere, anywhere, and let's just lay in the dark together. Forget all this and just…just––”

“Just what, Hannah? Avoid the real world until it comes busting down our doors, dragging us out, kicking and screaming?” He shakes his head again, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “It’s time to go. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do.”

My mind tells me over and over that he’s lying. He doesn't want her, doesn’t love her. Why won’t he see sense? I have to do something, anything, to make him see reason.

My feet carry me the five small steps towards Johan until only physical inches separate us, even when it feels like imaginary miles are keeping us apart. I raise my hands slowly, like he’s a horse ready to spook, and lay my open palms on either side of his chest. The half-moons where my nails have been biting into me are red on the paleness of my skin.

He jolts when I touch him like my touch is painful. Which it might be, honestly. Because simply feeling the heat of his skin underneath his shirt is exquisite misery for me.

“Don’t,” Johan hisses, eyes shut tightly. I ignore his protest, my hands trailing up his pecs, over his collarbones, and along his neck, until I can cup his face the same way he did mine that rainy night.

“Look at me,” I demand. He shakes his head, the stubble on his cheeks scraping against my palms, and I repeat myself. "Why are you doing this to us?”

“There is nous,” Johan whispers. For a moment, I see cracks in his facade. I feel his energy shift, the subtle change of his body as it leans towards mine, into my hands, but then he reigns it in as hard as possible. He says nothing more, stepping back and away from my touch, closing his eyes as he does so. Lines bracket his mouth from how much he’s holding himself back.

I give a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and harsh in the quiet room. “Astrid even asked my opinion on colors and themes for the engagement, you know. It’s ridiculous.”

Johan’s eyes flash with something between guilt and anger. “Hannah, enough.”

“Can you imagine?” I ask, searching for his gaze. “Me helping plan your engagement party and maybe even your wedding? Maybe I should do so as a reminder of your poor choices.”

“Stop,” he says, his voice breaking.

But I can’t stop. I can’t stop the pain, the anger, the sheer frustration. “What happened to you?” I repeat, my voice cracking with emotion. “You used to fight for what you wanted, for us.”

“I’ve said my piece,” Johan tells me with finality. “You may go now. Before I call security.”

His last words hit me like a punch to the gut. The shock of his coldness leaves me momentarily paralyzed. I never imaginedhe’d threaten me with security. I stand there, stunned and heartbroken, before turning on my heel and walking away from his office. Each step feels heavier than the last, my vision blurring with unshed tears. The hallway stretches endlessly before me, the echoes of our argument ringing in my ears. With every step, the weight of rejection settles deeper in my chest, the reality of his words sinking in. I reach the exit, the cold air hitting my face, but it does little to numb the pain. I keep walking, leaving the archaeological department behind, but knowing the heartbreak will follow me wherever I go.

27

Johan

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