***"****Don't forget about me*
*Even when I doubt you*
*I'm no good without you, no, no" -Twenty One Pilots*
***Alissa Blake***
The air in the restaurant carried that aroma of sophistication: a mix of fine wines, fresh herbs, and delicate dishes. Everything was perfectly calculated to make anyone feel special. But to me, the smell was nauseating, far too heavy for the tension growing every second between Holden and me.
He sat across from me, his shoulders tense, fingers drumming on the rim of his wine glass without even looking at it. Every movement of his was a silent declaration that something was wrong. It was obvious, but I still didn’t understand why he was putting on this performance.
The private setting was just for the two of us, but I hoped he’d realize that the last thing I wanted at that moment was dinner. Shutting the door on the past so abruptly was ignoring everything that had happened, and Holden wasn’t good at pretending everything was fine.
“Holden, why are we here?” I finally asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
He slowly raised his eyes, and when our gazes met, there was something in them I couldn’t decipher. Guilt, maybe? Or was it doubt?
“I wanted... to fix things,” he said, running a nervous hand through his hair.
“Fix things?” I repeated, crossing my arms. “Holden, an expensive dinner isn’t going to erase what happened. This isn’t even your fault, remember?”
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. The soft upholstery creaked slightly under his weight, but the sound seemed deafening in the silence between us.
“I know that, Alissa,” he said at last. “But what do you want me to do? I’m trying.”
“Trying what?” I retorted, leaning forward slightly. “Trying to fix what your parents did to me or trying to figure out if what they said is true?”
The words escaped before I could stop them, and I saw his face harden. It was as if I’d pressed a button he was trying to keep deactivated. I guessed I wasn’t good at pretending either.
“So you heard, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, the rings on his fingers clinking against the table. “That’s not fair, lying like that,” he muttered, his jaw tightening.
“Fair?” I laughed, humorless. “Nothing about this is fair, Holden. Nothing about your parents treating me like trash while you... you just stand there, trying to decide if I’m trustworthy or not. It’s more important for you to stand up for yourself when something splashes back on you.”
He opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a waiter approaching with the main course. The man was polite, but his formality only made the moment more uncomfortable. He placed our plates in front of us with a rehearsed smile, asking if we needed anything else.
“We’re fine,” Holden replied, his voice low and controlled.
The waiter nodded and left, but the moment had already been ruined. I looked down at the plate before me: a perfectly grilled piece of salmon, surrounded by vegetables delicately arranged like part of a painting. I couldn’t even think about eating.
“You think I don’t trust you?” Holden asked suddenly, his voice low but laden with emotion. “And I did stand up for you—you saw it.”
“I think you want to trust me,” I replied, my voice equally low. “But there’s a part of you still analyzing me, trying to figure out if your parents were right.”
He recoiled as if my words had physically hit him.
“That’s not true,” he said, but there was something in his tone that suggested otherwise.
“Don’t lie to me, Holden,” I shot back, feeling the anger grow inside me. “I can deal with a lot of things, but not that.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but once again, we were interrupted—this time by a waitress bringing a bottle of wine to the table. She smiled as she refilled our glasses, but the tension between us was palpable.
“Sorry for the interruption,” she said politely before walking away.
We sat in silence for a moment, the distant sounds of clinking cutlery and muted conversations filling the void between us. Finally, Holden spoke:
“Alissa, you know how much I care about you.”
“That’s not in question,” I replied, my voice calmer now. “What’s in question is whether you can see me beyond what your parents said.”
He ran a hand over his face as if trying to erase the confusion hanging over him.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he said at last. “But at the same time, all of this... it’s a lot.”
“It’s a lot for you?” I asked, my voice rising slightly. “Holden, I’m the one they attacked. I’m the one carrying these traumas, and you’re saying it’s a lot for you?”
“That’s not what I meant,” he replied quickly, but the damage was already done.
I stood, ignoring the look of surprise on his face.
“Maybe you should think about what you really want, Holden,” I said, grabbing my bag. “Because I’m tired of being a question mark in your life.”
Before he could say anything else, I left the restaurant, the sound of my boots echoing on the polished wooden floor. The cold night air hit me as soon as I stepped outside, and I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to take a deep breath.
I knew he was probably calling me back, but I couldn’t face it. I couldn’t face him.
I walked through the illuminated streets, the glow from the streetlights reflecting on the wet asphalt. Each step felt like a thunderous echo in my head, mingling with my confused thoughts and the growing ache in my chest.
When I finally neared home, my phone vibrated. I picked it up, briefly thinking it was Holden. But it was an unknown number.
“Hello?” I answered, my voice tired.
There was a brief silence before a child’s voice replied:
“Alissa?”
My heart stopped for a moment.
“Who’s this?”
“Morgan. Your sister.”
Those words hit me like a punch.
“My sister? How did you get my number?”
“I... I just wanted to talk to you,” the voice was hesitant, almost shy.
My heart felt like a stone in my chest as I tried to understand what was happening.
“Are you okay?” I asked, trying to keep calm.
“Yes...” she replied, but there was something in her tone that made me alert. “But I have to hang up. If Mom and Dad find out, they’ll punish me.”
The line went dead before I could say anything else. I stood frozen, clutching the phone like it was an anchor, trying to process what had just happened.
Suddenly, everything around me seemed to blur. The streetlights grew brighter, the sounds louder. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst out of my chest.
I needed to think. I needed to act.
And, more than anything, I needed to protect that little girl.