Oh God… It’s him. This can’t be happening.
That voice. Those eyes. They’re doing the same thing they’ve always done. Weaken me. They disarm. They pierce… Yet, somehow they comfort. They reassure. They make me feel safe. This is wrong. I can’t look at him. I quickly divert my gaze to the floor beneath me. This doesn’t make any sense. I’m shaken and afraid. In my own house.
“I’m sorry to just drop by like this… I would have called but… Well, you haven’t picked up in a year and a half so I didn’t think that would change.”
His eyes are unwavering. He won’t let me avoid them. I have to. I don’t want to, though. He is pulling me in. His skin lures my eyes, his voice caresses my ears… I don’t know what to do.
“Derin… Say something.”
This is why I didn’t pick up those calls. He turns me into this defenceless, helpless child. I feel lost. Yet, I want him to find me. Save me, maybe. As much as I ignored his calls, I still didn’t change my number. I continue to shift my gaze from floor to wall and back again. I think I might be muttering some gibberish. Or stammering. I’m not sure.
Thirty seconds ago, I was flipping through bridal magazines, filled with excitement over the prospects of the next phase of my life. From time to time, I stopped to admire my ring as I contemplated my good fortune. I had the love and commitment of a good man who wanted me to be his wife. Unfortunately, the man I am in love with and the one I am engaged to are not one and the same. The former is now standing in my hallway.
“Listen. I know you don’t want to see me right now. But you can’t expect me to hear you are getting married and stay away.”
He’s nervous. He does this when he’s nervous- just keeps talking, waiting for me to say something. Anything. He doesn’t understand that I really can’t. I can’t even try to speak because I’m afraid of what I will say. I’m afraid I’ll tell him how much I need him. I’m afraid I’ll confess that I think I’m making a terrible mistake and he’s the one I really want to be with. I’m afraid but I’m also ashamed. I’m ashamed that he still has this hold on me even though he was the one who chose to be with someone else. I’m stuck. I have to make a decision.
I look into his eyes. They plead. So does he.
“At least, let me in. Please.”
Next, he’s going to say we need to talk. Like he claimed we did the last time he showed up. That was about a year ago. Within minutes, our cravings had annihilated my inhibitions. The man who left me for his secretary was in my bed and I wanted him there. The only talking that took place that night was me whispering his name in ecstasy until the sun rose. By the time I woke up, he was gone. The emptiness I felt that morning was the most hopeless feeling I have ever experienced. I made up my mind never to let that happen again.
“Derin, please. We should talk.”
I step aside.
He smiles. Sweetly, seductively, ominously. He walks in.
I should know better.