Ted's Narration, 2030
"That summer, I learned that when love begins and when love ends, the first thirty days are remarkably similar."
Summer, 2006
"There's a reason you spend more time in bed."
On the first day, Ted could be seen waking up with a smile—that second morning of his new relationship with Robin, essentially repeating the previous morning, with the difference that this time he woke up with Robin in his bed in his apartment, not hers.
There, the morning light filtered through his apartment window, illuminating Robin's sleeping figure beside him in an embrace under the covers. In contrast, just a few steps from that room, Marshall was awake, alone on one corner of the large bed he shared with Alyx and Lily. In this case, the opposite side occupied by Alyx and the center where Lily always slept were both empty and cold, the sheets slightly disturbed by Marshall.
Meanwhile, in the living room of that same apartment, Alyx awoke on the sofa with a slightly stiff neck and a bitter taste in her mouth. She hadn't been able to enter the same bedroom she shared with Marshall and Lily the night before, because the idea of lying down next to him alone—without Lily, or knowing that there was no longer a relationship specifically binding the three of them—made her feel incomplete without both of them. At that moment, she couldn't seek that comfort in their contact when the piece that completed their three-piece puzzle was missing. Even more so, knowing that she could have done something, since she knew the whole story, all the situations—something everyone else clearly didn't know, and she had no way of explaining that Alyx knew their lives from a previous time, from a future time to this one, in a very different context (but we'll see that later).
Day 3
While Ted and Robin were experiencing this new relationship, spending every moment together, always maintaining some kind of contact, some conversation, some smile—the thrill of discovering everything new about a romantic relationship, those fascinating moments.
During those first times, Ted always remained on that cloud of love and euphoria for having managed to conquer the, let's say, love of his life at that time, which was Robin. Meanwhile, Marshall, for his part, had turned his bed into a base of mourning. He spent all day in it; the sheets were already tangled from his constant movements as he had a nightmare. He would barely leave the room to go to the bathroom, sometimes to get something from the kitchen, always dragging his feet as if he didn't have the strength to stand for long. It seemed as if he had condemned himself to being locked up as much as possible in his room, as far away from the outside world and as close to what was his happy place, somehow trying to keep all the focus of the warmth he felt locked within those four walls, even though he was alone—because although his room held the best memories, it also held the one that hurt the most.
For her part, Alyx had declared a silent war against chaos. After the shared time and the love she felt for Lily and Marshall, Alyx didn't believe it possible that they would separate like this, even though she knew everyone's lives and didn't remember every moment so well after integrating into her new life. She hadn't seen the moment when this separation would explode or how much it would affect her, even though she knew the possible future where Lily would return and everything would go back to normal. But she didn't know if it mattered that she was there, or if there might be more changes she couldn't control.
With that, she now wanted to control the things in her life, so she began a silent battle against chaos through an insane dedication to cleaning every surface she could in the apartment. She organized every item in the kitchen alphabetically, constantly vacuumed with a meticulousness that bordered on obsession, every dish and utensil in the kitchen was washed and always arranged in a specific order, the pots were polished as much as possible, the wooden surfaces were kept as shiny as possible, as were the marble or polished tiles. She was in such a great attempt to control what she could within their shared apartment, her only way of imposing order in her daily life that she couldn't in her love life, which she had lost several days ago.
Although she kept herself constantly busy, whether organizing the apartment or working on her computer or whatever, many times her gaze oscillated between her activities and the closed bedroom door where Marshall was, sometimes thinking about what would happen if Lily didn't return, if she returned to them, if she only wanted to return to Marshall, or if she decided on her. What would happen to everyone if they took separate paths? If only two remained alone? What would she do?
Because Alyx didn't feel it would be complete to continue either alone with Lily or alone with Marshall, because for her, they were both simply the two with whom she saw sharing everything, every moment and minute of the day, her whole life.
Day 5
Ted and Robin's routine was established among laughter, sex, dates; the world was for them and their relationship a point of constant discovery.
Marshall, meanwhile, was silent, sad, and always in bed, reviewing the days or the decisions he had made. Alyx was in control mode with cleaning, general surveillance, and her permanence on the sofa as her command post, basically reviewing the events of her life she could control, those she didn't identify, and remembering what she could have done to stop Lily from leaving or to have supported her at all times and convinced Marshall for the three of them to continue.
That same day, Barney tried to get Marshall out of the room, formulating plans to go out for drinks, meet women, but he barely received a slight snort from Marshall. Alyx, who saw what was happening, didn't intervene, hoping Barney's antics would help Marshall utter some words or leave the room for longer.
Day 7
A week had passed when Ted, after returning alone to the apartment one night from Robin's place, found Alyx sitting at the dining table reviewing an accounting book open on the kitchen table, and next to it, a cup of cold coffee, but with her gaze lost, directed at the opposite wall. There, Ted realized upon entering the rare silent moment of Alyx, her lost gaze, and the apartment with a scent of clean, bleach, and impregnated sadness.
"How is he?" asked Ted, nodding his head towards the bedroom.
"Sleeping. Finally," answered Alyx, without looking up. "I got him to eat half a sandwich. It's a start."
"And you? Have you eaten?"
She made a vague gesture with her hand. "Sure, although the mess doesn't wait, Ted."
Ted looked around. The apartment was impeccable, as if it were a museum—everything too orderly and shiny to be normal.
"It's curious," murmured Alyx, as if reading his mind. "We spend more time in bed when love begins... and when it ends. Only for such different reasons." Finally, she looked up at Ted. Her eyes had a shade of tiredness. "Your bed is full, Ted. His... mine... well, ours, is no longer what it was. Just a space that reminds us of what we're missing."
Alyx got up from the dining chair, closing the accounting book with her left hand and taking with her right her cup of cold coffee that she had been drinking hours before when it was still warm. With that, she headed to the sofa where she sleeps, ready for another long, sleepless night, passing her pain and thinking about how to comfort Marshall when he was ready to talk, thinking about how she would be that night in a bed she couldn't occupy, because the person who made their triangle perfect had taken all the geometry with her.