The Healing

Something had changed in the house.

I felt it the moment I opened the door.

Everything looked the same as it had that morning before I left for work: the same walls painted light yellow by me, the white slippers neatly placed by the mat that said “Welcome,” the same pine scent and the freshness of floor cleaner.

Everything was in its place. But something wasn’t right.

I tightened my grip on the bouquet of peonies, and a strange feeling seized me — as if a string had tightened inside me, not letting me breathe.

God, Aria, you’re such a drama queen.

The thought flashed through my mind and disappeared just as quickly. Maybe I was overthinking it. But the feeling wouldn’t go away.

— Matthew?

My voice echoed dully in the narrow hallway.

— I’m in the living room.

His voice sounded hoarse. And… somehow uncertain.

I exhaled. He was home. Everything was fine. That meant I was just overthinking.

In two steps, I crossed the distance from the door to the living room and found myself in a small space that could hardly be called a proper room. Just like our whole apartment. But I loved it exactly for its compactness and coziness. I could stretch out my hand and easily reach everything I needed. And this space brought me and Matthew closer, as if it made us closer, pushing us toward each other. Like our small, shared nest.

— I’m glad you’re home, I had this strange feeling, like something was… — I stopped mid-sentence.

Matthew was sitting on the tiny couch, which was more suited for one than for two, and next to him stood his suitcase. I stared at it, not understanding what was happening.

— Are you going somewhere?

He let out a heavy breath and stood up from the couch, closing the distance between us.

— We need to talk.

His hoarse voice sounded somewhere above me. Usually, the worst words follow that phrase. At least, according to movies and books. And I’ve watched and read enough of them to know that nothing good ever comes after it.

— What’s going on?

I looked up at my boyfriend, frowning. My sister is always telling me not to frown so much or I’ll turn into a wrinkled old woman by thirty. But right now, I couldn’t control it.

— Aria, — Matthew, who always used to say my name with a certain softness, now sounded cold, more like a strict boss than my boyfriend, — I’m leaving.

I stared at him, not fully understanding what he had just said.

A heavy silence filled the room.

— What?..

The word slipped out almost as a whisper. I wasn’t even sure I had said it out loud.

— I’m leaving, — he repeated.

I studied his face, the way I had done a hundred times before, hoping to see a hint of a smile. But there was none. Matthew looked at me with complete certainty, as if waiting for some kind of response, but all I could do was fiddle with the bouquet in my hands.

Damn. The flowers.

I lowered my gaze, noticing that the stems were slightly damaged from how tightly I had been gripping them.

— I need to put the peonies in a vase, — I muttered, heading toward the kitchen.

With a trembling hand, I poured water into a glass vase, trying to focus on the water level. My thoughts were racing, replacing one another so quickly that I couldn’t catch onto a single one.

— Are you even listening to me? — Matthew’s voice came from somewhere behind me.

Ignoring him, I walked past him into the living room and placed the vase on a small wooden table.

— Damn it, Aria, — he muttered, — I imagined a different reaction.

I froze. He imagined a different reaction.

— How long have you been preparing for this conversation, Matthew? — I finally forced out.

— I wasn’t preparing, Aria, — he sighed раздражённо, running a hand through his hair, — I just… realized it.

— This morning you kissed me, and everything was fine, — I frowned more and more, — and now you’re telling me you just realized it. What exactly did you realize? That you want to leave? Matthew, we’ve been together for five years, and all you can say is “I’m leaving”? What the hell?

I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to protect myself from what was happening and from whatever he was about to say next. But he just stayed silent. Looked at me as if deciding whether it was worth saying what was on his mind. And I looked back at him, unable to understand how the person who had been my closest one just five minutes ago, my other half, the one I wanted to build a family with and have children with, could now be talking about leaving. After everything we had been through together.

God. I’m going to be sick.

— I don’t feel anything anymore, — he said flatly.

— So… — my voice trembled, — you don’t love me?

Something tightened painfully in my chest. And somewhere deep inside me, there was still a small spark of hope that he would say he did love me, that he just needed time. That everything would be okay. But he stayed silent.

And that was enough.

— Why?..

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. A sob escaped me, and tears started streaming down my face. I quickly wiped them away, smearing my makeup, but I didn’t care how it looked.

— We’re not who we used to be, Aria, — Matthew said. — Everything has become so… ordinary.

— Ordinary… — I repeated, as if tasting the word.

We’re not the same anymore.

— Yes, exactly, — he nodded, avoiding my gaze, — the spark between us is gone.

I kept looking at him, hoping that any second now he would laugh and say that this was all a stupid, cruel joke.

— What are you talking about? Everything is good between us. Stable and good…

— That’s not enough, — he cut me off. — I’m not interested in you anymore.

The words sounded too sharp.

My heart skipped a beat, and then started racing so fast it became hard to breathe.

I sank onto the couch. This was some kind of nightmare. Just a dream. I pinched my leg, squeezing my eyes shut from the pain, but when I opened them, I realized it was all real.

Matthew was still standing in front of me, avoiding my gaze.

— I became uninteresting? — I asked stupidly.

— You became… — he hesitated, — everything with you became the same. Do you understand?

— No, Matthew, I don’t, — I frowned even more.

— I got bored with you, — he added.

It felt like all the air had been knocked out of my lungs. I held my breath, hoping it would somehow stop the growing ache in my chest, but it didn’t help.

— Five years, Matthew, — I whispered. — Five years, and you just… got bored?

He let out a heavy breath, lowering his gaze.

— I didn’t want it to turn out like this.

— And that’s it?.. — my voice trembled. — Just like that?

— I’m sorry.

He said it like ripping off a bandage. And with it, a piece of my heart.

I stared at one point, still not fully understanding that this was happening to me. To my life. To my relationship. In our apartment.

— Please, try to understand me, — Matthew said, stepping toward his suitcase. — This decision wasn’t easy for me. And I hope one day you’ll forgive me.

He picked up his suitcase and walked toward the door. He was really leaving me.

— I’m begging you, — I whispered through tears, — Matthew, please don’t go. We can still fix this…

He paused in the doorway, his back to me, as if thinking about my words. And for a moment, I thought he almost put the suitcase down.

But he stepped out.

And left.

I stared at the closed door, unable to believe it. He really did it. He left me.

The realization slowly started to sink in, and unable to handle the overwhelming emotions, I slid down from the couch onto the floor. Wrapping my arms around myself, I began to rock back and forth, trying to calm down.

It didn’t help.

I couldn’t breathe. The walls felt like they were closing in on me.

I pressed my forehead to my knees, holding myself tighter, as if that could somehow keep me from completely falling apart.

But inside, nothing was holding anymore.

Everything had fallen apart.

And only then did I allow myself to truly cry.