Chapter 2 #2
They both know perfectly well that she could have simply emailed it. Before Seraphina can reply, two nurses walk past the office and greet Nerissa enthusiastically when they see her.
“Dr. Ashcombe! It’s so nice to see you here again,” one of them says.
“Thanks, Rachel.”
Nerissa replies kindly, but Seraphina senses the inevitable undertone behind those words. For months, Nerissa has barely set foot in that clinic since the committee reorganization. And they both know exactly why.
When they’re alone again, Seraphina crosses her arms.
“This is a bad idea.”
“Coming into your office?” Nerissa raises an eyebrow ironically. “It’s a little late to figure that out.”
Seraphina glares at her.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Nerissa holds her gaze for a few seconds before setting the folder down on the table.
“I’ve been letting you run away from me for six months. I think we’ve had enough distance.”
Seraphina’s heart is beating too fast.
“We’re at work,” she whispers.
“Yes. And it’s exhausting pretending we barely know each other when we’ve spent years slowly destroying each other. Don’t you think?”
The harshness of the statement steals her breath, and Seraphina turns toward the coffee machine just to break eye contact and buy herself a few seconds.
“Want some coffee?” she asks.
It takes Nerissa a second to answer.
“Yes, please.”
The sound of the machine filling the cups echoes through the office as silence settles between them. Seraphina tries to focus on something mechanical, but she can feel Nerissa’s gaze fixed on her the entire time.
“You’re still using too much sugar,” Nerissa murmurs as Seraphina sets a cup in front of her.
Seraphina looks up, surprised.
“And you’re still noticing details you shouldn’t remember.”
Nerissa flashes a faintly smug smile.
“I’ve never forgotten anything that has to do with you. That’s always been part of the problem.”
Seraphina leans against the edge of the table, trying to ignore the uncomfortable flutter in her chest.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
“And you shouldn’t have slept with me last night,” Nerissa replies in a low but firm voice. “We’re even.”
Seraphina grips the hot cup between her hands, searching for something tangible to hold on to.
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
Nerissa watches her in silence before answering honestly.
“The truth. That’s all.”
The truth is dangerous, and Seraphina knows it. It means admitting that she thinks about Nerissa constantly, that she has spent years waking up beside Elliot imagining a different life, that once again she felt more alive than ever in Nerissa’s arms.
“I have a family,” she reminds her.
“I know.”
“Then stop looking at me as if it were all so simple,” Seraphina pleads.
Something like weariness crosses Nerissa’s face.
“I don’t think it’s simple. I just think you’ve been living for everyone else for so long that you can’t even tell what you want anymore.”
Seraphina looks away toward the windows. Manchester appears gray and blurred behind the rain.
“Elliot isn’t a bad man.”
“I never said he was.”
“He’s a good father, and he loves me.”
Nerissa is silent for a few seconds, choosing her words carefully.
“I’m sure he does. But what matters here is that you don’t love him.”
Seraphina feels her heart clench violently. Because there it is again, that unbearable feeling: being truly seen by someone, without any filter.
“You can’t ask me to destroy my life,” she whispers.
“I’m not asking you for anything. Just stop running away.”
“Last night seemed to suggest otherwise.”
Nerissa sets her cup down on the table and takes a step closer.
“Last night I made it very clear that I’ve been trying to forget you for six months and failing every single day.
Because I’m tired of settling for the crumbs you give me.
Because while Daphne was talking to me, all I could think about was how you wrinkle your nose when you’re angry, how you bite your lip when you’re nervous…
all the things I’ve never been able to erase. ”
Seraphina’s throat goes dry.
“Don’t say those things here.”
“Why? Because they might be true?”
She closes her eyes for a second. Nerissa’s presence is suffocating even from several feet away.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” she admits in a whisper.
Nerissa looks at her with a devastating mix of tenderness and exhaustion.
“That’s the problem, Seraphina. You always try to manage your feelings as if they were just another department in the clinic.”
The remark draws a brief, bitter laugh from her.
“And you always show up right when I manage to get things back under control.”
“No. I show up when you stop lying to yourself for five minutes,” Nerissa corrects, slowly moving closer to the table.
“This can’t keep happening.”
“Then look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t feel anything.”
Seraphina looks up and makes the mistake of holding her gaze. Because it’s all still there: the desire, the anger, the need to kiss her without thinking about anything else.
Nerissa lowers her voice until it becomes an intimate whisper.
“Just tell me you can go home to Elliot, kiss him, and pretend this doesn’t exist.”
Seraphina tries to answer, but the words won’t come.
And they both understand exactly what that silence means.