Page 66 of Rewriting the Story

“Can we talk?”

He looks at me for a moment and, under his gaze, I start to wrap my cardigan around myself. “Uh, sure.”

I head into his room, and he closes the door, the air thick with tension as I turn around and face him, doing my best to keep my head up and not fall into myself and my thoughts like I often do.

But I have to do this. He deserves to hear this from me. After all I’ve put him through, he deserves for me to not be a coward, to not run for once.

“I’m sorry,” is all I can manage to get out.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, Henry. For all of it. For breaking your heart, for saying what I did at the airport, for running from you when—” My voice breaks, and I remind myself to breathe. I’m talking way too fast.

I’m sorry for running when all you wanted to do was love me.

“Amelia?”

“Just please, let me get this all out,” I say as my mind spirals. I take a deep breath as I get my breathing back under control. The weight of all I’ve done crushes me, but I muster through. “I’m sorry, Henry, and Iknow saying this doesn't erase what I did. It doesn't take away the pain I caused you, and it doesn't make me feel any less shitty, but I need you to know I think about that conversation we had at the airport a lot.”

“You do?” Surprise covers his face.

“Of course I do. I was horrible to you. I said all this shit I didn't mean, and I broke your heart because I thought it was for the best. I regret every single thing that came out of my mouth that day.”

“So you regret what you said but not what you did? You regret the words but not your actions?” No. No, I regret all of it. Fuck, how did I ruin a fucking apology? He sits on his bed, his head in his hands. “Amelia, this is so typical of you.”

“What?”

“Did you know I chased you through the airport? I bought a ticket and got through security, feeling like a madman as I ran through the airport trying to catch you at your gate so I could try to convince you that you were wrong.” He shakes his head as he runs his hands down his face, discarding his glasses next to him. “I screamed for you through the airport as one last ditch effort to get you to talk, and you didn't even turn around.”

“Nobody can blame me more than I blame myself, Henry. I regret everything I did, but I thought leaving was what was best for me and my career. I can’t apologize for doing what I thought was best for myself at that time.” I truly thought getting on that plane was what I had to do. If I could go back and do it all differently, I would, but in another way, I wouldn't, because it led me here to the person I am now.

Living abroad changed me. It changed how I view every single thing about my life. By leaving the place I had known all my life, I learned new things. I had new experiences. I grew as a person. I lost who I was too.

If I had stayed here, I don’t know if I would have had the same epiphanies. England taught me a lot about myself, but it also smacked me in the face with a lot of different things.

“So what exactly are you apologizing for? For the words you said to me that day? You can’t take them back, Amelia. Unlike you, I understand the words I say have meaning, and I wouldneverhave said to you what you said to me.”

“I’m apologizing for all of it, Henry. I needed you to know I regret how I went about everything, and—”

“I understand why you feel like you had to leave, but I’ll never get why you destroyed us before you left. You could have broken my heart in a thousand different ways, but choosing to do it at the airport on the day you left was cruel. Amelia, you’re a cruel person, and I know you know that, but if you had just talked to me…” He trails off, his voice thick with emotion as I stand in front of him, suddenly wanting to collapse. “I was blindsided at that airport.”

“I know, and I’m—”

“Stop with the half-assed apologies. Why did you leave how you did?” He stands and comes over to me, fresh tears washing down his face as he looks at me, eyes pleading for me to tell him the full truth. “The night before you left, you whispered that you loved me before we went to sleep. We shared headphones, we connected, welovedeach other. I kissed your neck where your necklace sat before we fell asleep, and I heard you say it back to me, only to turn around the next day and tell me you weren't capable of loving me.”

“Henry, I’m—”

“No, Amelia. I don’t think you're capable of being sorry for what you did. I think you feel guilty and are trying to erase that to make yourself feel better.” He walks toward me, and I step back, trying to get the truth away from me but knowing he’s right. My back hits the dresser, and he cages me in with both arms so I can’t run. “Why did you leave like that? I know there’s a reason, and I’ve racked my brain for years trying to figure out what would make you run from me like that.”

I can’t tell him. I can’t tell him about how scared I was of how serious we were getting. I can’t tell him what I found that day in his apartment.

“Because I had to, Henry. We had careers to start, and we couldn't have done that tied together how we were.” I’m afraid of forever. Forever feels like a death sentence if I think about it too hard. It’s the walls closing in on me, and at twenty-two, forever felt impossible. I wasn't looking to attain it back then, and maybe not even now.

My brain can barely handle a few minutes ahead, let alone years. I made the decision impulsively, not thinking about the ripple effect it would cause. That’s not how my brain works.

I meet his gaze, our breathing matching as what I said hangs in the air between us. And then, he pulls away, standing as far from me as he can as he motions for me to leave, his hand outstretched for the exit. I don’t wait for him to say anything before I head for the door.

“Did you even love me?”

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