I was unable to breathe or move. The door opened, and Aria was standing there.
Confident that my eyes were playing tricks on me, I blinked. However, she was there, as genuine as the constriction in my chest. Considering everything that had transpired, it seemed implausible that she had aged a day since I last saw her. The world seemed to stop for a moment as her dark eyes locked with mine.
"Ava," she replied in a quiet, almost contrite voice.
I was at a loss for words. I had a constricted throat, as if the room's air had been drawn out. Before I saw Rogan's face, everything around me began to spin.
With his fists by his sides and his jaw clenched, he stood still at the far end of the room. I was startled by the unadulterated emotion in his eyes, which I couldn't quite identify—angry? Fear? Want? I felt sick to my stomach because everything was tangled up together.
The hush was broken by Rogan's voice, "Aria," a single word that was so rich in history that it felt almost oppressive. He moved forward while keeping his gaze fixed on her face. "What the hell are you doing here?"
The slightest of smiles flickered across Aria's lips, but they stopped short of her eyes. "I’ve come home, Rogan. And I need to talk."
I wasn’t sure what I was feeling anymore. There was too much happening, too much history between them that I didn’t grasp. They shared something, something I hadn’t been prepared for. And now, here she was—this ghost from Rogan’s past, the woman who had tormented my every thought and put a rift between us. How could she just show up like this?
"Ava," Rogan whispered, finally turning his gaze to me, his expression unreadable. "Can we talk? By yourself?"
I felt like screaming. Everything in me wanted to run, to get away, and my heart was pounding. However, I simply nodded. I was obviously unprepared for everything that lay ahead, even if I had no idea what I was getting into.
I responded, "Fine," in a hushed tone that was not my intention. "I’ll leave you two alone."
Without waiting for a response, I turned and hurried to the door. To escape the oppressive weight of the moment, I needed distance, air, anything. A blast of chilly air assaulted my skin as soon as I stepped outdoors, but it didn't stop the storm inside of me.
I took a rambling stroll in an attempt to decompress. Only my ideas could give the streets a sense of desolation and emptiness. How was I meant to interpret this? Aria returning after all this time, of all people. For me, what did that mean? For Rogan?
I wasn't sure if I was prepared for the reality, but I needed answers.
I was in the bar an hour later, sipping a glass of wine and looking at nothing in particular. I nearly spilled my drink as my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Rogan texted me about it.
Rogan: We must speak. Return.
Unsure of how to react, I gazed at the screen. I typed back with trembling hands.
Ava: What is it about?
His response was longer than usual.
Rogan: All of it. Please. Return to the home.
After a brief moment of hesitation, I got up and finished the glass, the wine burning in my throat. I had no desire to return. I was unwilling to confront him. But I had a gut feeling that I had to.
My mind racing the whole way, I called a cab and headed back to the house. What did I enter? What had transpired between them? Why had Aria returned at this time?
The place was extremely quiet when I got there. My footsteps reverberated along the hallway as I entered. The tension was heavy and oppressive, like a storm about to blow, and I could feel it in the air. Rogan stood at the window in the living room, his back to me, waiting.
Unsure of what to say, I inhaled deeply and approached him from behind.
I uttered the word "Rogan," but it was hardly audible. "What’s going on?"
With a cautious expression, he turned slowly. He seemed to be looking straight through me for a brief while. Finally, though his eyes were still filled with anxiety, his gaze softened.
He started to say, "Ava, I—" but his words faltered. He was obviously annoyed with himself as he combed his hair.
"She’s back," he replied in a strained voice. "Aria. She wants to continue where she left off now that she's back.
My heart fell. The ground underneath me seemed to have splintered apart.
"She wants to what?" As I tried to take in what he was saying, I uttered a barely discernible mumble.
He averted his gaze, his face twisted with feelings he was not yet ready to express. "She desires to participate in this once more. I'm not sure what to do, Ava, but she wants me to let her back in. I'm not sure how to feel.
I felt a chill go down my back. He seemed conflicted between her and me based on the way he spoke. The worst part, though? He didn't even appear to be certain of his position.
"You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?" Before I could stop them, the words escaped. Even though I wasn't prepared for the reality, it was a question that needed to be answered, not an indictment.
Rogan's eyes were filled with an incomprehensible pain as he gazed at me. "I don’t know," he said in a low, remorseful voice. "I'm not sure what remains between us. But at one point, Aria was everything to me. And now that she's returned, I can't ignore the implications."
A knot formed deep within me, and my chest clenched. I was ill. betrayed. More than that, though, I felt as though I was losing him one piece at a time.
"So what does this mean for us, Rogan?" My question was hardly audible above a whisper. "What are you going to do?"
His face was inches from mine as he stepped closer. I could see the conflict in his eyes—the shame of not being able to let go of Aria completely, the longing to cling to me.
"I don’t know," he said in a barely audible whisper.
The door then opened.
Aria was standing in the doorway with something I couldn't identify shining in her eyes. I could tell by the expression on her face that everything had just altered, as if she were witnessing the world come apart.