Chapter 12 #3
"It does matter." I press my forehead against the wood, my eyes closing. "Hannah, please. Whatever they said, whatever you heard,it's not true. None of it is true."
"Bennett—"
"Let me in. Please. Just let me see you."
"No." Her voice cracks on the word, and I can hear the tears in it. "I can't,I can't do this right now."
The desperation is clawing at my throat now, making it hard to speak. "Then when? When can we talk about this?"
"I don't know. I just need space. Please, Bennett."
Every instinct I have is screaming at me to push harder. To demand she open the door. To make her listen, to make her understand that whatever poison those women poured into her ears is a lie. But I can hear the pain in her voice. The exhaustion. The way she's barely holding herself together.
And I know that forcing my way in right now will only make things worse. It'll only prove to her that I don't respect her boundaries, that I think I know better than she does what she needs.
Even though it's killing me.
"Okay," I say quietly, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. "Okay. I'll give you space."
I hear a soft sound from the other side of the door. It might be a sob. It might be nothing. But it tears through me like a knife.
"But Hannah?" I press my forehead harder against the wood, my hands flat on either side of the frame.
"Those women were wrong. About everything.
You're not ordinary. You're not a phase.
You're not too young or too inexperienced or not good enough.
You're the woman I'm going to marry. The woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.
And nothing anyone says will ever change that. "
Silence. Long and heavy and suffocating.
"I love you," I say, my voice breaking. "And I'm not going anywhere. When you're ready to talk, I'll be here. I'll always be here."
I wait another moment, hoping against hope that she'll change her mind. That she'll open the door. That she'll let me hold her and tell her everything's going to be okay.
She doesn't.
I step back, my chest so tight I can barely breathe, and force myself to walk away. Every step feels wrong. Every step takes me further from where I need to be. Down the stairs. Out to my car. I sit in the driver's seat for a long time, staring up at her window.
The light is on. I can see her shadow moving behind the curtains, pacing back and forth.
She's up there alone, hurting, and I can't do anything about it.
I pull out my phone and type one more message, my fingers shaking.
Me: I'm not going to push, but please know I'm worried about you. Call me if you need anything. I'll be up.
I watch the window. The shadow stops moving for a moment, then continues. She's reading it. But she's not responding.
I start the car and drive home, my mind racing through everything I should have said, everything I should have done differently.
I should have rehearsed something better.
I should have been more convincing. I should have made her understand that those women don't matter, that their opinions are worthless, that she's everything to me.
But how do you convince someone of their own worth when they've spent their whole life believing they don't have any?
The house feels empty when I walk in. Too quiet. Too big. Every room reminds me of her,the kitchen where we cook together, the couch where we watch movies, the bed where she sleeps curled against my chest.
I pour myself a drink and sit on the couch, my phone on the coffee table in front of me. The screen stays dark. No calls. No texts. Nothing.
I check it anyway. Every few minutes, I pick it up and check, just in case I somehow missed a notification. Just in case she changed her mind.
She doesn't.
The hours crawl by. Midnight. One AM. Two. I don't sleep. I just sit there in the dark, the untouched drink warming in my hand, waiting for her to reach out.
My mind won't stop spinning. What if she doesn't call? What if she decides this is too hard, that I'm not worth the trouble? What if those women convinced her they were right, that she doesn't belong in my world, that we're too different?
What if I lose her?
The thought makes my chest constrict, makes it hard to breathe. I can't lose her. I won't. But I also can't force her to stay if she doesn't want to. I can't make her believe she's enough if she's determined to believe she's not.
I pick up my phone again. Three AM. Still nothing.
I type out a message,Please talk to me,then delete it. Type another,I need to know you're okay,and delete that too. She asked for space. I have to give it to her, even though it's killing me.
I lean back against the couch, closing my eyes, and all I can see is her face. The way she looked tonight in that black dress, so beautiful it hurt. The way she smiled when Patricia complimented her. The way she fit so perfectly into my world, into my life, like she was always meant to be there.
And now she's gone. Pulled away by words that should never have been spoken, by people who don't know her, who don't see what I see.
I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, my phone clutched in my hand.
Hoping she'll let me back in, and terrified she won't.