This story has a happily ever after… after all is the title and I can’t read any more.

My eyes are stuck on the photo. Ethan and I. Kissing. But all I can see is Aaron’s face. Celine’s face. My eyes get blurry. If I don’t hold on to something, anything, I’ll lose my balance. I grab the man’s chair and try to regain composure, but I feel I’m going to be sick.

“It is you,” he says, sounding amused.

“It’s not,” I say. “It’s not.”

I see Celine coming back in, and I know I can’t face her right now. I’m at the counter in two steps, grab my bag from behind it, and rush to the kitchen. I see her recipe notepad on the table and scribble, barely readable, ‘I’m sorry. Maya’ before I run out.

Fifty-Nine

All is lost. It’s too late. I shouldn’t have waited. I should’ve talked to him at six in the morning. Or yesterday when I first suspected who he was.

I’m not crying, although I feel like crying. I think I’m too much in shock and my body is numb and my brain is numb too. I can’t feel anything but desperation. I have failed.

I walk through Carmel, not knowing where I’m going or what I’m going to do.

My cell rings. I have to do this once and for all. “Hello, David,” I say.

“Finally! I’ve been trying to reach you for ten days. I’m still in denial; can’t believe you left. I’m sure we can fix whatever is wrong. Just come back and let’s talk it through.”

“I’m not coming back, David. I thought I made that clear in my note.”

“Where are you? I know you’re not in Hartford. Your mother told me.”

Ugh, Mom. I told her not to answer his calls.

“It doesn’t matter where I am.”

“Why don’t you want me to know where you are?”

“What is that saying? What you don’t know can’t hurt you?”

“Wha—?”

“Don’t call me again. Don’t call my mother. We’re done.”

“Maya, I—”

“Goodbye, David,” I say and hang up.

A few minutes later, my cell rings again. I’m about to block David’s number when I see it’s not him. It’s a local number and although I haven’t saved it on my phone, I recognize it. It’s Ethan. If I answer, hell shall be released on him. My fury knows no limits now. I reject his call.

It’s maybe a couple of hours since I started walking. My feet hurt, my head hurts and I still have no solutions. I don’t think there’s any way out of this. I call Alisa, but her phone is turned off and when I look at the time, I realize it’s been way more than two hours. More like four. It’s almost five o’clock, which is one in the morning in London. I have no one to talk to and I don’t know what to do. I should get my things and go back home. It’s done. I’m done.