The Heartbroken - S01 E227

Story 2 years ago

The Heartbroken - S01 E227

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 227

It caught me off guard. He was so sure of his

answer it seemed like he’d been thinking about it for

a while. The thought only made my cheeks burn

even more.

“When you… told me how you used to read to him.

It felt like the first time I saw the real you.” He lifted

his eyes to mine. “And the real you is beautiful.”

I s----d in a breath. It felt like that night had

happened years ago. After everything we’ve been

through, it almost seemed like a distant dream; a

memory from another life.

When I didn’t reply, he said, “My turn.”

I nodded.

He gave me a sheepish look. “So, I was wondering—

why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

“Why do you like me?”

It felt like an answer with so many obvious reasons it

didn’t even need to be asked. But he asked it

anyway. And the blushing was back full force. I

didn’t have any idea how he could always make me

feel like a pathetic infatuated girl.

Maybe because I kind of was, but whatever.

I huffed. “Well, it’s definitely not because of your

vanity.”

He nudged me with his foot under the table. “Come

on. Just say it.”

I gave him a withering look, silently pleading for him

to take his question back, but he simply stared back

at me with an amused look. “I really hate you,” I

grumbled.

“Right.” He smiled knowingly at me, raising both his

eyebrows. “Hate. That’s totally what you feel about

me.”

Still, I couldn’t find the words to answer this simple

question, so I just continued to give him my kind-of-

pleading-but-also-cold-glare, in the hopes that he’d

change his mind.

“Tell you what,” he said. “Write me a letter about it.”

“What? That’s not necessary.”

“Please?” There was a change in his tone. He

sounded less mocking and more serious and when I

looked at him, I realized there was something more

to this request. “Give it to me before I leave.”

The mention of his leaving brought me back to

reality. I’d almost forgotten it, mostly because I

refused to acknowledge it, but he tossed it out so

carelessly that I almost flinched.

“All right,” I agreed, because really, how could I say

no to that? “Does that mean it’s my turn again?”

“I guess so.”

I took in a deep breath and tried not to look away

from him, focusing on his blue eyes, as if turning

away would change his answer. “Why are you

leaving?”

If the question bothered him the slightest bit, he

didn’t show it. In fact, it almost seemed like expected

it. He shifted in his seat, sitting back a little, before

looking up at the ceiling in what seemed like a

defeated gesture.

“Honestly?” He dragged his eyes back to mine. “I

don’t even know.”

A feeling of hope surged through me and I

instinctively leaned forward. “Then don’t.” I could feel

myself taking all my walls down, sewing my heart

on my sleeve, and if he looked closely, he would

have seen all of me, at that moment, without the

mask, without the shield—nothing but my real

feelings for him. “You don’t’ have to leave.”

He shook his head.