Page 87 of Twin Flames
Cheerful, carefree tourists smiled at her. She couldn’t face happy people today. Could they not see that her world had ended?
Perhaps that was why they smiled. They witnessed her pain and tried in their own small way to offer comfort. People were kind, but they didn’t move her today. She wished she were dead.If only someone would shoot her; put her down like an injured animal who couldn’t bear any more pain.
The thought of killing herself crossed her mind. She was thinking the unthinkable. She was thinking the thing that well-balanced people were supposed never to think. You were expected to be strong; to pick yourself up after heartbreak and just carry on.
She had no one and nothing to live for. If she ended it now, it wouldn’t affect the Tudorville timeline, and if George managed to escape, they’d be together there anyway, she reasoned. She had nothing more to lose. Whatever was supposed to happen in 1536 had already happened.
She’d done her best in the present day to rearrange circumstances, and it seemed that George was no worse off. He was better off because he looked happy with Kate. The disruption of the timeline had set him free from his unfulfilling marriage to Joanna. He and Kate had a wonderful life together. Joanna seemed happy with her family, so all was well. No harm had been done. The players were oblivious to the time travel musical chairs which had decided their fate.
George wasn’t in love with her in this formation of events, so he was spared the never-ending heart wrench. She loved him enough to be grateful for that. There was no point in them both suffering. Only her life was a disaster, and she felt sorry for herself today.
She must give him up once and for all. Him being with Kate was a clear message. She wasn’t religious, but since she’d begun time travelling, and through her conversations with Sylvia, she’d come to believe there was a universal power behind the scenes. The Twin Flame journey had shown her that things were rarely as they seemed. But Twin Flames or not, she couldn’t reunite their souls alone.
She must let George go this time. It was not to be. She must accept it was time to call it quits and not be any more of a lovesick fool than she’d already been. Her heart ached at the thought of what would surely be the most daunting challenge yet. She didn’t feel up to it. Death was an alluring alternative to living what must be a bleak forty-years alone, without any hope of his voice, without his presence.
She knew from past attempts that it was no small thing to let him go. She’d lost count of how many times she’d steeled herself to give him up. Her logical mind dictated she should cut him out of her life, but her soul wouldn’t permit it. Her heart had remained open to him no matter what. Each time he’d hurt her, she’d thought it must surely be the final blow. How could she take any more of this agony?
Inevitably she would lash out at him, and they’d spiral into a nightmarish dark pit of heartache and mental anguish.
And then a strange thing happened. They would wake up to the beauty of their unconditional love. She’d see that he never meant to hurt her. She forgave him. He forgave her. It happened simultaneously, as if by magic. And the slate was wiped clean.
Whenever she tried to break it off because it seemed the right thing to do, she’d been unable. Being apart was intolerable for them both. It wasn’t sustainable, so how could it be the right thing? It was an insoluble conundrum. They always found a way back to each other, their bleeding hearts in tatters after the agony of separation.
What would surely have broken another pair of lovers, only served to deepen their connection. Each separation forced them to confront their deepest fear of not being good enough. It was a peeling away of the false layers of ego. Once their disconnected souls were stripped bare, their true nature revealed pure, transcendent love. And they became one, just as they had been in the beginning.
Who could exist without pure love, once tasted? The ordinary would never suffice.
Such was the power of Twin Flames. Cara didn’t understand it, but there was nowhere to run. He was her, and she was him. Killing herself wasn’t the answer. She would pull herself together.
At this moment, she had no desire to live, but she couldn’t hurt her father, and besides, she knew she would only be postponing the inevitable cycle.
She would go back to Tudorville when she was called, and try to save George, as initially planned. The thought of a future life without him was too much for her to contemplate. The present-day would now be different. He wouldn’t be the George who couldn’t live without her. He didn’t even know her. He wouldn’t fight to keep her. It must surely be easier to resist him this time.
Somehow, she would have to make a new life for herself. She had never felt so alone. How could he abandon her? If what Sylvia said was true, George’s soul hadn’t fully awakened, or they would already be together. A flaming rage consumed her, and she blamed him.
She would never love again. He was the only one for her.
Cara stumbled away from what was arguably the most impressive Cathedral in Europe, oblivious to its beauty, as she suffocated beneath a heavy wave of panic. The pain sucked the breath out of her lungs. She collapsed onto a wooden bench, and sobbed, oblivious to the lovers who passed by, hand in hand, their faces aglow in the glorious afternoon sunshine.
Her phone rang. She retrieved it from her handbag and through the haze of tears, saw the call was from an unknown number. She tossed the phone back into her bag. Less than a minute later it rang again. And then again.
‘Hello? Who’s calling please?’ Her tone was clipped. She only answered in case it was an emergency. Misery clawed at her soul, and she had no desire to talk to anyone ever again.
‘Cara? Cara Bailey?’
‘Yes, this is Cara. Who’s speaking?’
And yet even as she said the words, she recognised his voice.
Why was he calling? She mustn’t be drawn in. He had no idea what he was doing. She couldn’t let it happen again, for both of their sakes.
‘This is George. George Cavendish.’
‘George, right. Hello, yes.’
‘You looked unwell, and we noticed you disappeared. I wanted to call and make sure you’re okay. Kate tells me I can be a bit dense about this kind of thing, but she doesn’t miss a trick. Are you all right?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye,’ she lied. ‘It was rude, but I had an urgent message from the office and had to get back.’
