Page 143 of Unspoken Words
“Yes, and I’m sorry. I just … I don’t belong here.”
“I knew you’d decide to go back the moment I left you there. You were a different Ellie than the one I knew. She was wilder, more outspoken, carefree, and … homely.”
I let out a small laugh at him mentioning that word, and I think he went to object or query my reaction, his mouth opening then closing, his brows pulled together. But, instead, he inched back along the bed, sat straighter, and continued. “These past weeks, I’ve had time to think, and I realised you’d never truly be happy if you married me. The life you’d be expected to live isn’t one that would suit the Ellie I spent time with in Melbourne.”
I choked back a sob that had lodged in my throat and nodded my agreement, the warmth from the mug cradled in my hands the only thing keeping them from trembling.
“I’m sorry, Byron, but I’m not the person you want me to be. I tried, I really did. When I moved here, I wanted to reinvent myself. I wanted to be stronger, wiser, untouchable, except all I achieved was to become a shell of the person I truly am.”
“I don’t want a shell, Elle. I deserve better than that, and so do you.”
“I know that.” I reached for his hand and covered it with mine. “You deserve so much better than that, better than me.”
Byron slid his hand free and placed it on top on mine, and I felt like doing the same and playing that game you played as a kid where you kept stacking your hands on top of each other’s, but I didn’t. Now was certainly not the time for games nor was Byron the person to play them with.
.“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to stay here for the next week while I sort out my things. If it’s not okay, that’s completely fine. I’ll be out of your hair later today.”
“Of course it’s fine, Elle. I’ll help you. Whatever you need.”
“Thank you.” I stood up and trudged to the door.
“Didhehave anything to do with you wanting to go home?”
Pausing at the threshold of the room, my hand on the door handle, I looked back over my shoulder at him, the answer written all over his defeated face.
“Yes,” I said, honestly. “He’s the reason I left and the reason I’m going back.”
“I see.”
I glanced down at my fidgety fingers, playing with the handle of my mug. “You need to understand that I think I’ve always loved him, even when I hated him. And that was a lot. He makes me cry as much as he makes me smile, makes me laugh as much as he makes me scream. He helps me breathe, and he steals my air.” My eyes once again found his. “I’m sorry, Byron. But Connor was and is my air, and I can’t breathe without him. I’ve tried and suffocated as a result.”
He brought his mug to his mouth. “No regrets, remember?”
Nodding, I stepped back and exited the room.
And one week later, I exited his life and started a new one.
Part Three
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ellie
Rain pelted my bedroom window,streams of water distorting the view into my childhood backyard. I was folding the last of my clothes and placing them into my closet when Mum entered the room and practically dropped a large cardboard box on the floor.
“This is the last one.” She stood straight, stretched her back, and then bent over, tearing the masking tape and pulling open the box’s flaps. Dust burst into her face, and she coughed, waving her hands like a bird. I moved closer and patted her back, curious as to what was inside the final box they’d stored in the garage.
“Oh, never mind. These are just your old posters. We can put them back.”
“What?” I dove through the dust cloud. “You kept them?”
“Of course, sweetie. We kept everything.”
Pulling out a large, rolled, tube of paper, I unravelled it to find a life-sized picture of Madonna singing live in concert, her hair pulled tight into a high ponytail, eyebrows thick, and a gold corset sharp enough to poke someone’s eyes out.
“Oh my God! This was my favourite one.”
Mum laughed and used her hands to frame the wall. “Pin it up then.”
