Oliver knew it was late. Too late for him to come over. But he didn’t care. He needed to see her. If only for a minute.
He needed to know that she was alright.
He left his house in a hurry before his father woke up and made him stay in.
He needed to get to her.
It wasn’t far to her house. He would be there in minutes. He needed to know that she was alright.
The street was quiet at this time of night, and Oliver had no problems crossing the usually busy road in front of her house.
He would see her soon. He would talk to her.
The lights were on in her apartment. She was home. She was in there.
Oliver knocked on her door and waited for an answer. She didn’t open. He knocked again and waited. This time he could hear her footsteps on the other side.
She was coming.
Soon he would be in her arms again.
Soon everything would be as it was.
She opened the door and saw him. She didn’t smile. She didn’t say anything.
“I had to see you,” Oliver said.
She didn’t say anything.
“What’s wrong,” he asked
“You shouldn’t be here. We can’t do this again.”
“But it’s fine. You’re free now. We can pick up where we left off.”
“We can’t, Oliver. It’s not safe. For either of us.”
Oliver didn’t understand what she meant. He was eighteen now. She was free. There wasn’t anything stopping them from being together?
He felt tears start building up in his eyes.
“Why?” he asked
“It was a mistake. I should never have done what I did to you” she said.
Oliver saw that she was trying to be kind, she was trying to let him down kindly. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want anything to do with him.
“Please” he began, tears running down his cheeks.
“I’m sorry, you have to leave,” she said and closed the door.
Three years he had waited for her. Three years to see if she was okay.
And she let him go just like that.
Oliver returned home heartbroken. Home to his father. Home to the man who got her sent away.
Home to the man who destroyed his life.
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Categories: flash fiction