The harsh, revealing morning light cut through the living room of the apartment, once Alyx's makeshift bedroom.
Alyx was stunned, with the apartment door open, since just minutes before there had been a knock, and there, seeing Lily—small and undone in the doorway—made Alyx feel that all the seams she had carefully stitched around her heart during months tore apart at once.
It wasn't just the surprise of her appearance but the memory of almost a month earlier when she saw that same gaze through the bar window, which generated a raw pain—so fresh and familiar after all.
Not knowing what to say, Alyx could only state the facts of the moment. "I'm moving," she said, and the two words sounded like a definitive step toward a future where they might not be together.
The confusion in Lily's eyes transformed into something worse—filled with deep, heartbreaking understanding. Her gaze swept over the box and the old sweater of Marshall's that Alyx was wearing, along with the steely determination in Alyx's posture—a clear message that she wasn't just changing apartments.
She was withdrawing.
"Now? Why…?" Lily's voice was a thread as fragile as glass.
Alyx took a deep breath. "Because I'm no longer part of this," she said, raising her chin and gesturing backward toward the apartment so full of memories and dreams before her departure. "And you aren't either, Lily. You left. You broke everything."
Alyx didn't say that she left her or Marshall; she was emphatic in saying that Lily left everything—their dreams, goals, and shared life—behind.
Lily paled even more, surprisingly if that was possible. The tears she had bravely held back, barely showing in her swollen eyes, couldn't stay that way; they began to fall freely—silent and painful.
Not knowing what to say or ask, she began, "I went to see him the night before last," she confessed about seeking out Marshall, as if bringing that fact to light could change something in that moment. "I asked him… I begged him to get back together."
Alyx didn't respond; she just clenched her hands into tight fists. She said nothing.
"He said no," Lily whispered, her voice breaking.
"He said I was right and that we needed to learn… to be alone." A dry, bitter laugh escaped her throat.
"Do you realize, Alyx? I believed him when he said it was a mistake for me to leave, but I didn't believe him when he said it was right for me to stay. And now… it seems my mistake was the truth, and I don't know what I did."
It was a labyrinth of guilt and regret, and Alyx was too tired to navigate it.
But then Lily looked up, and her eyes—those green eyes Alyx had tried to capture over and over on paper with desperate strokes—fixed on hers.
"But I didn't just ask him to get back together," Lily said. "When I said 'let's get back together,' in my head… in my heart… you were part of that image. The three of us, like before. Like it should have always been." She said, struggling to express her desires without letting the tears and slight hiccups of crying weaken her words.
Alyx felt the air leave her lungs—a direct blow. She had spent months assuming that in Lily's mind, she was just an accessory, a failed experiment, the third wheel that came off when the car crashed.
Hearing that Lily had included her in that desperate plea to return… was a new kind of pain. It was a "what could have been" so vast and dazzling it was blinding.
But she also couldn't help noticing that in the end, Lily didn't ask her. "And why didn't you ask me?" The question left Alyx's lips before she could stop it. It was rough, loaded with months of sleepless nights kept awake by cups of coffee and contained rage over abandonment. "Why did you go straight to him as if I were just an extension of Marshall? As if my feelings were an appendix of his?"
Lily took a step back as if the words had physically pushed her. "Because… because I hurt you. I saw you that night at the bar, through the window. When I saw your face—the same expression Marshall had months ago, only… more controlled and silent.
It scared me so much to see that pain in you, Alyx. I thought you wouldn't forgive me. That it was easier to ask for his forgiveness, and that he… that he would convince you."
"He doesn't convince me of anything!" Alyx exploded, and the volume of her voice echoed in the apartment's living room. She said, gesturing with her hands, which now free from clenched fists trembled visibly. "I make my own decisions, Lily. Like the decision to take care of him when you weren't here, like the decision to stay silent when I saw you spying on us, or like the decision to leave now, because I can't stand being in a limbo of broken possibilities that you created for another minute."
Each accusation sank into Lily like a poisoned dart, and Alyx saw them piercing her. But she couldn't stop. The torrent of emotions she had repressed with cleaning, coffee, and punches to a boxing bag came gushing out.
"You left not just the two of us, but the three of us, Lily. You broke a triangle, not a line, and the worst part is you don't even see it. You still think in terms of 'him and me,' when for years it was an 'us.' And I was part of that 'us'! I loved you! I loved both of you!"
That was the first time she said it out loud—not in her mind, nor encased her emotions in drawings in an old notebook. The echo of her confession resonated in the cold space. Lily brought a hand to her mouth, stifling a sob.
Happy holidays to all my readers! 🎄✨
As a thank-you gift, I'm bringing you a double chapter today:
📖 One continues the main story,
🎁 and the other is a nostalgic holiday memory filled with magic.
Thanks for every read and all your support. You're the best part of this journey!
Wishing you a season full of magic and great stories! 📖✨