20

Arthur Müller.

Current time.

London.

I can't understand why I couldn't get her out of my head.

No, I do know the reason. Admitting it wasn't what held me back.

Telling her and her not reciprocating was the fucking bullet to the forehead I feared she would shoot.

What do I do with her?

She drives me crazy.

"Sir," I look at her. "You have a meeting in an hour."

I nod.

"Thank you, Teresa," I mumble slowly.

My eyes return to fixate on her face, the photo that lies on my desk that I impulsively placed there. She's smiling with sparkling eyes while holding a book near her face, sitting on the living room couch with her legs crossed. I took it with my phone without her knowing, and here it is.

I bite my lower lip, gazing at her face and hair.

It's been months since I've seen her, and the urge to go after her is killing me, damn it.

"Sir," I furrow my brows, "do you need anything else?"

I swallow hard; her concern is evident in her eyes. And rightfully so, my appearance is a mess, all because of insomnia.

There are few nights when I can rest for four consecutive hours.

"No, you can go," I attempt to smile at her.

It's more of a grimace. I let out a frustrated sigh, feeling the need to see her. To hear her. To feel her.

And a damn photo wasn't enough.

I lick my lips, bewildered.

I thought this feeling that was starting wouldn't be so strong. What a fool I was; the moment I saw that damn paper with her signature, I knew immediately that losing her wasn't part of my plans. Even though the contract was meant to separate us and each goes our way.

I realized that one year wasn't enough for me with her.

I convinced my father that if I got married, it would be too much for the company to stay with us. He concluded that over time we would have a child. He couldn't have been more wrong.

If he were to find out the truth, I don't know what would become of me.

I take out my phone with a grunt, my fingers reaching for her number. The nickname I gave her shines next to her photo.

I missed her uncontrollably.

The tips of my fingers burn, wanting to tap that call icon. I clench my jaw, run my hand through my hair and then slam the phone down on the desk. I control my breathing, closing my eyes in anger.

I hate that she wants distance between us.

But I didn't want to be selfish with her. If she wasn't happy with me, she could find it with someone else, even though the idea of seeing her with another person tore me apart.

"I want you away from me."

Her words hurt me deeply.

"I'm tired of this. Of us."

Was she? Was she tired of us?

"I'm not important to you; I'm sure if something were to happen to me, you'd be relieved."

How can she think that? If something were to happen to her, I would end up going crazy.

Much more than I already am.

"I hope you'll be happy."

Being happy without her? I don't see it as possible right now.

The minutes pass by with sips of water, distractions like Teresa's work to keep me from falling asleep, and her words hurting my heart and wreaking havoc on my peace.

Half an hour later, my phone vibrates on top of the desk. My sister's number appears on the screen, and I can't help but smile at this.

"Sister," I exhale, running my hand over my face.

Oh, you sweet fool.

I chuckle with a small smile on my tired face. Damn it, even smiling has become incredibly difficult for me. I swallow hard, lifting myself off the chair and heading to the window that gives me a great view outside.

"How are you, sweetheart?

Missing you. Is everything okay? You sound really bad.

I scratch my neck, cracking my back.

"I haven't been sleeping well."

Suddenly, her tone of voice shifts from gentle and concerned to more concerned yet serious. I close my eyes with regret, unable to imagine her round face right now.

Arthur, are you sleeping well?

"Not for months," I satisfy her curiosity.

She doesn't know about Michelle, only my parents do. When I told them I got married, they scolded me for not inviting them to the non-existent wedding. I sigh, lazily placing my palm in my slim pockets.

"I want a woman," I inform her.

Silence lingers, then I hear her curse between a joyful squeal that deafens me. I let out a laugh at her innocence; if only she knew how things unfolded.

"Tell me everything! What is she like? What does she do? How does she treat you? Is she pretty?"

I swallow hard, playfully denying it. My sister has witnessed all my facets, and this isn't the first time she's heard me say I like someone.

But it would be the first time after her.

"She's beautiful, although..."

I stifle a groan, biting my cheek and running my fingers through my disheveled eyebrows.

"Although what?"

"It's complicated."

And it's bullshit. Tell her how you feel, you fool. You know what happens when you keep things to yourself.

And I do know, in the worst way possible. I pace back and forth, thinking and babbling about what I say.

"And what if she doesn't like me?"

I can imagine her shrugging indifferently, but her eyes observing me with pity.

"You'll be another broken heart swimming among fishes."

Those simple words were not a consolation, despite that, they were enough to make the martyrdom of carrying this distrust and fear with me more bearable.

"I love you, and I miss you. When will you tell me where you are? I'm starting to believe that you married a mobster and he has you obligated not to reveal your whereabouts," I hear her laughing with euphoria.

I turn my head towards the door; Teresa signals that the meeting is about to start. I nod, raising my thumb.

Sure, and the mobster is several pregnant and nervous women. Yeah, right.

"Well, you like kids... I have to go, sweetheart.

Take care, and talk to her. She probably feels the same.

I nod, hanging up at the same time. I adjust my suit and hair before leaving.

And encouraging myself to tell the woman I like, that I love her before it's too late.

I wasn't determined to lose her too.