Three Weeks Away

Lena

‎Back in my apartment, still crouched down on the sofa, I just couldn't believe what my eyes were seeing.

‎The room looked exactly the same as it had that morning.

‎The same cushions.

‎The same coffee table.

‎The same blanket twisted around my legs.

‎Nothing had changed.

‎And yet everything had.

‎A few days ago, this apartment had felt like home.

‎Now it felt like a place where my memories were waiting for me.

‎I could still remember Daniel sitting in that armchair.

‎I could remember him laughing.

‎I could remember the evenings we'd spent here, ordering food and watching movies, arguing over what to watch and pretending we weren't both tired.

‎I could remember how safe I'd once felt.

‎That was the cruelest part.

‎The memories hadn't become ugly just because he had.

‎They were still beautiful.

‎And that made losing them hurt even more.

‎I stared at the phone in Maya's hand.

‎

‎Then at Maya.

‎

‎Then back at the phone.

‎

‎My mind struggled to catch up with what she was saying.

‎Paris.

‎Three weeks.

‎Away.

‎It sounded impossible.

‎It sounded reckless.

‎It sounded like something people did in movies when they needed to escape their lives.

‎I had never been that woman.

‎I'd always been the responsible one.

‎The planner.

‎The woman who thought about consequences before making decisions.

‎And now my best friend was sitting in front of me with what looked like a perfectly planned escape.

‎"No."

‎

‎Maya smiled.

‎

‎"You haven't even seen the tickets."

‎

‎"I don't need to."

‎

‎"You haven't even asked where we're going."

‎

‎"I know where we're going."

‎

‎Maya's smile widened.

‎

‎"Do you?"

‎

‎"Paris."

‎

‎"Exactly."

‎

‎I blinked.

‎

‎The word sounded strange in my apartment.

‎

‎Paris.

‎

‎It didn't belong in the middle of everything I was feeling.

‎

‎Not between the tissues scattered across the coffee table and the untouched bowl of pasta Maya had brought me. Not beside the suitcase Daniel had given me for my birthday two years ago. Not in a room where I'd spent the last two days crying until my eyes hurt.

‎

‎Paris sounded like something that belonged to another woman.

‎

‎A woman without a broken heart.

‎

‎A woman who could wake up in the morning without immediately remembering her boyfriend kissing someone else.

‎

‎A woman who could look in the mirror without hearing Daniel's voice.

‎

‎I looked down at my hands.

‎They were trembling slightly.

‎I curled them into fists.

‎It didn't help.

‎I could still hear him.

‎Not physically.

‎But inside my head.

‎That was somehow worse.

‎The words had lodged themselves somewhere deep inside me, repeating whenever I looked at my reflection.

‎Maybe that was why I hadn't looked in the mirror properly since Thursday.

‎Maybe I was afraid I'd start seeing myself through his eyes.

‎"I can't go to Paris."

‎

‎Maya dropped onto the couch beside me.

‎

‎"Why?"

‎

‎"Because..."

‎

‎I searched for a reasonable answer.

‎

‎There were too many.

‎

‎"Work."

‎

‎"Three weeks," Maya said. "You have vacation days."

‎

‎"I don't have enough money."

‎

‎"I already paid."

‎

‎My head snapped toward her.

‎

‎"You what?"

‎

‎"I bought the tickets."

‎

‎"Maya."

‎

‎"And the hotel."

‎

‎"Maya."

‎

‎"And before you start—"

‎

‎"You booked a hotel too?"

‎

‎"Yes."

‎

‎"Without asking me?"

‎

‎"Yes."

‎

‎"Who does that?"

‎

‎Maya raised a hand.

‎

‎"Your best friend. Apparently."

‎

‎I stared at her.

‎

‎I couldn't decide whether I wanted to hug her or yell at her.

‎Probably both.

‎"You can't just spend money on me."

‎

‎"I can when you're currently incapable of spending anything on yourself."

‎

‎"I'm serious."

‎

‎"So am I."

‎

‎Maya reached for my hand.

‎

‎Her expression softened.

‎

‎"You need to leave."

‎

‎I looked down.

‎

‎"I can't just run away from my problems."

‎

‎Maya squeezed my fingers.

‎

‎"We're not running away."

‎

‎She paused.

‎

‎"We're giving your problems three weeks to survive without you."

‎

‎For a moment, I said nothing.

‎

‎Then a tiny laugh escaped me.

‎

‎I immediately covered my mouth.

‎

‎Maya's eyes widened dramatically.

‎

‎"Was that a laugh?"

‎

‎"No."

‎

‎"It sounded suspiciously like one."

‎

‎"It wasn't."

‎

‎"I heard it."

‎

‎I shook my head, but the corner of my mouth lifted.

‎

‎Maya pointed at me.

‎

‎"There. Again."

‎

‎"Stop."

‎

‎"You laughed twice."

‎

‎"I hate you."

‎

‎"No, you love me."

‎

‎"No."

‎

‎Maya leaned back against the couch.

‎

‎"You really do."

‎

‎For the first time since that awful Thursday evening, I felt something other than pain.

‎

‎It wasn't happiness.

‎

‎Not yet.

‎

‎But it was lighter.

‎

‎And maybe lighter was enough.

‎

‎Maya picked up her phone again.

‎"Okay."

‎I frowned.

‎"Okay what?"

‎"Now that you've accepted that you're going."

‎"I haven't accepted anything."

‎"You laughed. That's basically a signature."

‎I rolled my eyes.

‎"Show me what you booked."

‎Maya's face lit up.

‎She unlocked her phone and opened the confirmation email.

‎"Flight leaves Saturday morning."

‎"Saturday?"

‎"Yes."

‎"That's in three days time."

‎"Exactly."

‎"Maya!"

‎She laughed.

‎"You wanted time to change your mind?"

‎"Maybe."

‎"Not happening."

‎She turned the phone toward me.

‎"Look."

‎I stared at the screen.

‎Our names were there.

‎Two seats.

‎One destination.

‎Paris.

‎I swallowed.

‎Maya scrolled.

‎"And here's the hotel."

‎The screen showed a photograph of a beautiful building with tall windows and balconies.

‎"It's close to the city center."

‎"How close?"

‎"Close enough that we're not spending our entire trip in taxis."

‎She swiped again.

‎"Breakfast included."

‎Another swipe.

‎"Two separate beds."

‎I looked at her.

‎"Obviously."

‎"I'm just making sure."

‎"Maya."

‎She grinned.

‎"What? We're best friends, not roommates."

‎I shook my head.

‎For the first time, the idea began to feel real.

‎Not just something Maya had said.

‎Not just a desperate suggestion.

‎Real.

‎A plane.

‎A hotel.

‎Paris.

‎Three weeks.

‎I looked at the confirmation again.

‎My stomach twisted.

‎Excitement and fear collided inside me.

‎"What if I regret this?"

‎Maya shrugged.

‎"Then we'll regret it while eating croissants in Paris."

‎I laughed softly.

‎"You really have an answer for everything."

‎"That's why you keep me around."

‎She nudged my shoulder.

‎"And Lena?"

‎"Hmm?"

‎"You don't have to go there and become some glamorous new version of yourself."

‎I looked at her.

‎"You don't?"

‎"No."

‎She pointed at the phone.

‎"You just have to get on the plane."

‎Her voice softened.

‎"The rest can happen when you're ready."

‎I looked away before she could see my eyes filling again.

‎Because suddenly I wanted it.

‎Not Paris.

‎Not really.

‎I wanted the chance to wake up somewhere that didn't know Daniel.

‎Somewhere nobody knew what had happened.

‎Somewhere I could walk down the street without wondering whether people were looking at me and thinking I wasn't enough.

‎Maybe that was what I needed.

‎A place where I wasn't Daniel's abandoned girlfriend.

‎Just Lena.

‎

‎---

‎

‎The next morning, I stood in front of my open wardrobe.

‎

‎I had three weeks to pack.

‎

‎Three weeks away from Daniel.

‎

‎Three weeks away from Sophie.

‎

‎Three weeks away from the apartment where every object seemed to remind me of a life I'd thought was permanent.

‎

‎I pulled out a pair of jeans.

‎

‎Then a sweater.

‎

‎Then another sweater.

‎

‎Maya stood behind me with her arms crossed.

‎

‎"No."

‎

‎I turned.

‎

‎"What?"

‎

‎"Put that back."

‎

‎"It's a sweater."

‎

‎"It's a tent."

‎

‎"It's comfortable."

‎

‎"It's emotionally depressing."

‎

‎I rolled my eyes.

‎

‎"Maya."

‎

‎"You're going to Paris."

‎

‎"I know."

‎

‎"Paris."

‎

‎"I heard you."

‎

‎"Paris is not the place for you to dress like you're preparing to organize someone's garage."

‎

‎I laughed despite myself.

‎

‎Maya walked over and began pulling clothes from the wardrobe.

‎

‎"This."

‎

‎She held up a soft cream blouse.

‎

‎"This."

‎

‎A fitted pair of trousers.

‎

‎"This."

‎

‎A pretty black dress I hadn't worn in months.

‎

‎I immediately reached for it.

‎

‎"No."

‎

‎Maya held it above her head.

‎

‎"Why?"

‎

‎"Because it's too fitted."

‎

‎"Exactly."

‎

‎"I don't want people staring at me."

‎

‎Maya lowered the dress.

‎

‎"Lena."

‎

‎"What?"

‎

‎"People are going to look at you."

‎

‎I looked away.

‎

‎Maya's voice became gentler.

‎

‎"That's not something you should be ashamed of."

‎

‎I swallowed.

‎

‎Daniel's voice returned without permission.

‎

‎Things haven't been the same since you gained all that weight.

‎

‎I hated that one sentence could still hurt so much.

‎

‎Maya saw the change in my expression.

‎

‎She didn't push.

‎

‎Instead, she placed the dress on the bed.

‎

‎"You don't have to wear it."

‎

‎I nodded.

‎

‎"But take it."

‎

‎"Why?"

‎

‎"Because maybe one day in Paris, you'll wake up and realize you want to."

‎

‎I looked at the dress.

‎

‎Maybe.

‎

‎I wasn't ready to believe it yet.

‎

‎But maybe.

‎

‎Maya didn't stop there.

‎She started making piles.

‎"Day clothes."

‎She pointed to one side of the bed.

‎"Dinner clothes."

‎Another side.

‎"Emergency clothes."

‎I frowned.

‎"What are emergency clothes?"

‎"Something you can wear when you realize we accidentally walked six miles because I refused to take a taxi."

‎"That sounds like something you'd do."

‎"Exactly."

‎She picked up another outfit.

‎"And this is for the day you decide to be brave."

‎I stared at her.

‎"You really think I'm going to be brave?"

‎Maya shrugged.

‎"I think you're going to surprise yourself."

‎I didn't answer.

‎But I packed the dress.

‎And the blouse.

‎And the trousers.

‎One piece at a time, I began filling the suitcase.

‎It was strange.

‎Packing felt like admitting I was actually leaving.

‎Every folded shirt was a small decision.

‎Every pair of shoes was proof that I intended to go.

‎Every time I zipped a compartment closed, I felt the old life getting a little farther away.

‎And yet Daniel was still there.

‎In my thoughts.

‎In the quiet.

‎In the parts of me I hadn't figured out how to separate from him.

‎

‎---

‎

‎By lunchtime, two suitcases were lying open on my bedroom floor.

‎

‎Maya had somehow turned packing into an event.

‎

‎Music played from her phone.

‎

‎Clothes were everywhere.

‎

‎Shoes were scattered across the carpet.

‎

‎I was holding up two pairs of earrings when my phone buzzed.

‎

‎I glanced at the screen.

‎

‎My heart dropped.

‎

‎Daniel.

‎

‎I froze.

‎

‎The music seemed to disappear.

‎Even Maya's movements stopped.

‎For one horrible second, I felt like I was back in his apartment.

‎Standing in that doorway.

‎Seeing Sophie.

‎Seeing him.

‎Hearing everything I'd never wanted to hear.

‎Maya noticed immediately.

‎

‎"Don't answer."

‎

‎I stared at the phone.

‎

‎Another message appeared.

‎

‎Daniel: We need to talk.

‎

‎Then another.

‎

‎Daniel: Sophie told me you're going to Paris.

‎

‎I looked up.

‎

‎"How does he know?"

‎

‎Maya's expression hardened.

‎

‎"I didn't tell him."

‎

‎"I know."

‎

‎"Maybe he saw something."

‎

‎My phone buzzed again.

‎

‎Daniel: You're seriously leaving the country?

‎

‎I didn't answer.

‎

‎Another message.

‎

‎Daniel: Lena, don't do this.

‎

‎My fingers tightened around the phone.

‎

‎Don't do this.

‎

‎As if I were the one who had done something wrong.

‎

‎As if I had betrayed someone.

‎

‎As if I hadn't walked into his apartment and found my entire relationship lying in pieces.

‎

‎Maya reached for the phone.

‎

‎"Give it to me."

‎

‎"No."

‎

‎"Lena."

‎

‎"I can handle it."

‎

‎Maya studied me.

‎

‎"Are you sure?"

‎

‎I nodded.

‎

‎I opened the message.

‎

‎Lena: I'm going to Paris.

‎

‎I stared at the words.

‎

‎Then I added:

‎

‎Lena: I need some space.

‎

‎Daniel replied almost immediately.

‎

‎Daniel: Three weeks is ridiculous.

‎

‎I almost laughed.

‎

‎Three weeks.

‎

‎He thought three weeks was too long.

‎

‎After three years, he'd needed only a few months to replace me.

‎

‎I typed slowly.

‎

‎Lena: I think I deserve three weeks.

‎

‎The typing bubble appeared.

‎

‎Disappeared.

‎

‎Appeared again.

‎

‎Then:

‎

‎Daniel: Is this because of what happened?

‎

‎I stared at the question.

‎

‎My chest tightened.

‎

‎What happened.

‎

‎As if it were an accident.

‎

‎As if there hadn't been choices.

‎

‎I locked the phone.

‎

‎Maya watched me.

‎

‎"You okay?"

‎

‎"No."

‎

‎The answer came honestly.

‎

‎"But I'm going anyway."

‎

‎Maya smiled.

‎

‎"Good."

‎

‎She took the phone gently from my hand and placed it face down on the bed.

‎"Then that's the last message we're reading today."

‎I nodded.

‎But even with the phone turned over, I could feel Daniel's presence lingering.

‎That was the problem with people who hurt you.

‎They didn't always need to be in the room.

‎Sometimes they lived in your head.

‎Sometimes they followed you into sleep.

‎Sometimes they appeared in the middle of a perfectly ordinary afternoon and reminded you that your heart was still bruised.

‎Maya seemed to understand.

‎She reached for the music and turned it up.

‎"Come on."

‎I looked at her.

‎"What?"

‎"We're packing."

‎"I thought we were done."

‎"We're not done."

‎She tossed a pair of socks into my suitcase.

‎"Paris doesn't pack itself."

‎I laughed softly.

‎And this time, when my phone buzzed again from the bed, I didn't look

‎