4 The ache

DYANNE

My body soon pulls out of the shock, and before I can avert my gaze and walk away, she says my name.

“Dyanne!“

I exhale in exasperation and force my legs to walk past her.

'Please don't touch me. Ignore me like you've done for the past ten years. Ignore me like everyone has'

Unfortunately, everything I've ever desperately wanted never came to me.

“Oh my gosh, sweetheart!“

“You didn't tell me you were back!“ She exclaims. For a second, her high-pitched voice tempts me to look at her, and when I do, the wide, genuine smile on her face almost makes me throw up.

Why is she pretending to like me?

I immediately get the memo when someone clears their throat beside me.

“Your daughter? She looks just like you mentioned,” the woman beams at me. Before I can speak, Mom pulls me to her side.

“Of course, she takes just after me,”

Clearly, the woman must have seen the look of disdain on my face when my mother says that, because her eyes dart between us in confusion.

I don't attempt to adjust my expression.

I am nothing like my mother. I will never be.

“I'll be on my way now, Miranda. Thank you for tonight.”

“Of course,“ she smiles at her, and we both watch her walk away into her car. It isn't until she drives off that my mom turns her attention back to me.

“When did you come back?“ She asks.

“You should have told me; I would have prepared dinner for you or something.”

I wish I could be like this. Pretend nothing has happened and the ten years she spent away from me were just like a day.

I swallow when I remember that's exactly how I behaved with Alex. I tried to pretend that I didn't leave. I tried to pretend that everything was fine.

Am I really different from my mother?

I raise a brow. “Do you not have a family you need to prepare dinner for?“ I may have come out more spiteful than I intended, judging from the look on her face.

“You're family,”

That just spikes my anger even more. “Coming from you, that's funny.”

“Let's pretend we never saw today,” I add and start to walk past her. Surprisingly, she doesn't come after me, and I'm glad.

I have just taken a turn to get to Rose's car when my body hits someone.

I open my mouth to snap because I've just had enough today and I'm so close to breaking down, but the words slip back down my throat when I see who it is.

His last words resound in my head.

'I thought as much.'

So what now? How do I act? I've confirmed he knows who I am, and he hates me for it.

I've also now confirmed that I may actually not care what he thinks anymore, though I've spent the last few years wondering what. I'm not curious again. At least I know I shouldn't be.

“Are you okay?“

“Are you stalking me?“

We both say it at the same time, stumbling over each other's words.

Surprise crowns my features. “What?“

“What?“

We repeat.

I clear my throat and take a step back.

Why is he asking if I'm okay? Did he hear my conversation with my mom? Or is it because I bumped into him?

“Are you asking if I'm stalking you?“ He narrows his eyes, and I swear I see a flicker of amusement in them, but I might just be imagining it, because when I blink, his eyes are as cold as ice.

I clear my throat again and try to appear nonchalant—I'm far from that.

“It appears so,”

He scoffs, and as his lips part to speak, he's cut off by a sudden roaring thunder.

My body stiffens as my eyes flicker up to the darkening clouds, thunder cracking in the distance. I feel a drop of water on my bare hands.

Alex is speaking beside me, but I can barely understand him now; all I can hear is the little voice in my head urging me to run away—like I always have.

'Move your damn legs and run.'

I couldn't let him see me being miserable and vulnerable; I couldn't let him see the person I have become.

But my leg seems to have found a master of their own. Within seconds the drizzle turns steady—a cold, rhythmic patter against the tarred ground.

I try to walk, but my steps falter. My chest tightens like I'm being choked by my past. Hard, with no mercy. I feel my fingers begin to twitch and tremble. My chest heaves, but nothing comes in—no air, just panic, thick and choking.

Hot tears spill out of my eyes, mixed with the rain flowing down my face.

My hands fly to cover my ears as a screeching sound resounds in my ear. My body wracks with tears as the strong smell of blood fills my nose. In that moment, everything around me blurs out, and it feels like the world is closing in on me.

I feel my knees buckle, and before I can hit the floor, strong arms wrap around me.

“Dyanne, are you with me?—”

My eyelids flicker weakly as I struggle with myself to look up at the voice. Even in the darkness and uncertainty, I can always make out his face.

“Take steady breaths with me,”

I try to do as I'm told, and I don't know how long it takes, but slowly I feel everything start to go back to normal. Air begins to fill my lungs, and I'm no longer gasping for breath. Though my knees still feel weak, my vision is clearer now, and I'm staring into Alex's gray eyes. Surprise, pity, and something that feels like fear are swimming through his eyes. All at once.

I hate that look.

“Dyanne,” he starts to speak, but I pull out of his hold and step away as if I'm suddenly burned by his touch. He stares at me, puzzled.

The rain comes pouring down on me as soon as I am away from him, and I realize that I've been standing under the shield of something. My eyes fall on the umbrella Alex is holding over his head.

“What are you doing?“ He frowns when he sees I make no move to get back under the safety of his umbrella.

He's right. What the fuck am I doing with my life?

I just had a panic attack in front of Alex. On my first day meeting him, things are already going badly.

“I'm sorry for bothering you,” I reply and quickly walk past him, ignoring the rain pouring down heavily on me, or the lightness I feel in my head, or the way my legs wobble at every step I take, or the tears rushing down my cheeks, or even the ache that gnaws angrily in my chest. The ache that has come to find a home in my heart these last years, nibbling and biting away at the pieces I had left.