Page 24 of Atlas Uncharted

He didn’t stop me. When I tired myself out, I shoved at his chest, hard enough to make him stumble back.

I slid off the sink, legs unsteady, pride shredded, feeling like shame was swallowing me whole.

I wanted to cry. Despite the anger, the shame, the hate, I wanted him inside of me again. Deeper, longer.

But when he reached for me, I flinched away.

And then I ran. Out the door. Past the pink balloons. Past the fake women. Past the version of me I didn’t want to ever be again.

I didn’t stop until I was outside, gasping in air like it could cleanse me.

I felt ruined.

I had finally let him ruin me.

The rain beat down on the earth relentlessly, like it had a grudge against the world. I was out on the fire escape, letting the metal cool my skin, the droplets kissing my arms, my face. The sky was a thick, suffocating black. Harlem had become my home, a place where I could disappear into the noise, but tonight, it felt like I was the only person alive because of how loud my thoughts were—and they wouldn’t let me go.

I leaned back onto the staircase and let the drop soak through my hair, through my clothes, hoping it would cool down the now constant burn just beneath my skin. My life is good, isn’t it? I kept asking myself, like if I repeated it enough, I’d finally believe it. I had a bestselling book, money, a circle of friends who knew me better than anyone. But there was this void, this gnawing emptiness that nothing could fill, no matter how much I tried to outrun it.

The buzz of my phone snapped me back to reality, vibrating against my thick right thigh. A private number. My stomach flipped because I knew who it was. He had been calling me every day for three weeks, since the shower. I hadn’t answered.

My finger hovered over the screen, my heart tripping over itself as I swiped to pick up the call.

I didn’t say anything. Neither did he—not at first. Just the sound of breathing and heavy rain hitting metal filled the silence between us. I didn’t know if I wanted to hear his voice, but it didn’t seem I had a choice now that I'd answered.

“I’m sorry for what happened at the baby shower,” Atlas’s voice was rough, like he’d been carrying those words around too long.

I bit down on whatever I might’ve said, the memory of that day making my skin prickle, my nipples hard and my pussy instantly wet. My body was remembering things I wished it would forget. I stayed silent, waiting for him to say something else, something that would make this conversation worth me contributing to.

He hesitated. “It’s just that... back in school, I felt something with you. And those times when you didn’t run, I know you felt it too. I’ve been living with this regret of not pursuing it, Kairi. Do you know what that does to a person?”

His words cut through whatever defenses I had left. Of course I knew what regret did to a person. It ate you alive, hollowed you out until there was nothing left but a shell of who you used to be.

“Yes,” I whispered, barely louder than the rain. “I felt it too. But it doesn’t matter now. We can’t just hurt people because we missed our shot. You’re married, with a baby on the way. I won’t ruin that for you.”

The silence on the other end was suffocating—the kind that makes you second-guess everything, makes you want to fill it with anything just to make it stop. But I let it sit there, let it settle into my bones, because I knew there was no going back from this.

“Kairi...” he started, but the words fell off, like he didn’t know what to say, like he knew nothing he said could fix what was already broken.

I took a deep breath, letting the rain ground me, cool me down. “We can’t undo what’s been done, Atlas. You chose your path, and I chose mine. We have to live with that. At least we don't have to live without knowing what it felt like to just do what we wanted for once.”

"It's not a good thing, baby. That day, the feeling, the memory haunts me," he confessed.

The silence that followed was so loud, it was almost deafening. I could feel the finality of it—it was a door slamming shut, like the last thread snapping between us. It was over, whatever “it” was, whatever it might have been.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, and this time, it was softer, like he was saying it more to himself than to me.

“Me too,” I breathed, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

I heard him take a deep breath, like he was about to say more, but then the line went dead, leaving me with nothing but the sound of the rain and the dark, empty sky. I stared at the phone in my hand, the screen dark and blank, feeling like the ground had just opened up beneath me. Why couldn't I be selfish for once and have what I wanted? But then I thought about Ashlen, and how she had helped me when I needed it—and I couldn’t do that to her.

I stood, stretched the weariness from my bones, and slid back through the window, closing it behind me, dripping water onto the floor as I stood there for a moment, trying to pull myself together. My heart ached, but it was used to it. It had become a part of me. I’d made my choice, and now I had to live with it.

I stood, stretched the weariness from my bones, and slid back through the window, closing it behind me, dripping water onto the tiled floor as I stood there for a moment, trying to pull myself together. My heart ached, but it was used to it.

As I crawled into bed, wet, I pulled the covers up tight around me. I closed my eyes and listened to the rain, hoping it would drown out the echoes of what could have been.

"Lawd, please give me strength," I whispered into the darkness. “Help me move on.”

---