Nick
Nick
He stands in the park for a long time after she leaves, staring at the sorry-looking playground equipment, the champagne bottle at his feet gently shifting side-to-side in the sharp November wind.
He feels hollow, as though he’s had the stuffing pulled out of him. He can’t believe he said it out loud.
She will probably never speak to him again. And that’s fine. He deserves it.
He’s never been able to tell her that before, and now he knows why. It was too cruel.
But the truth: the real truth, the one that he’s so wanted to deny himself too, is that he’s not sure he can ever completely forgive her for holding him back from the building that night.
And it doesn’t matter that she was probably right to do so. It doesn’t matter that on the surface, he’s moved on from that night, because he’s still too afraid that it will eat away at them, at any hope of happiness they might have had together. A curse hanging over them. Poisoning and festering all that’s good about their relationship, bound to explode at some point in the future, shattering them both.
And they’re already so broken, how can he take the risk that he might break them even more?
All he’s ever wanted was for her to be happy. He couldn’t take the chance.
Surely she will understand that?
Surely one day she’ll look back and see that he was trying to do his best for her? For them both.