When I got home around eight that night, mildly prepared to deal with the ex who’d been on my mind since the hospital, Daniel had just slipped into the bathroom, leaving the lamp on at his desk in the corner. I’d always been fascinated by the way his mind worked, how he brought together design, math, and physics in his projects. My brain couldn’t fully grasp it.
I took my things to my room and then walked over to the desk. Lines and numbers and symbols in a complex labyrinth. Complicated and beautiful.
I leaned over the desk and was trying to figure out what Daniel was creating when he was suddenly behind me, his arm brushing my back, his breath crashing against my hair. I jumped.
“Like what you see?” he asked, coming to stand beside me. Close enough that his body heat curled over me like a blanket. I wanted to snuggle into him. I pushed the thought out. No. This was how I was supposed to feel about Yuvan, and not about my ex.
Yet I didn’t move away. I loved the smell of him, and right now he smelled like body wash with a hint of musk. “You’re so quiet, like a yellow bunny,” I teased.
He half smiled, like he wanted to crack a grin all the way but fought it. “Funny. It’s this plush carpet.”
“I didn’t mean to be nosy, but I was always amazed by your designs. I don’t understand it, though.”
“It’s part of the new hospital wing, actually.” He swiped across the large tablet, zooming out until it resembled an actual building. The 3-D effects were incredibly realistic, like I could reach inside and be in the building. Technology blew my mind sometimes.
“When did you stop using paper?”
“I design electronically for the most part. Paper design is for passion projects and calming down. Like the house.” He looked at me then, his eyes searching mine as I recalled how we used to spend much of our alone time designing a dream house. It was fun and relaxing but never came to fruition. We’d had our entire futures wrapped around each other, blooming in a dream home where we imagined celebrating, living, growing.
I saw his thoughts materialize on his face. The reminiscing about good times, the power duo we’d been as I sat against him on the floor while he drew my rooms, the sense of us having a future, the joy in our plans. And now, the irritation and hurt because I had thrown it all away.
I straightened while he sat down. He tapped the earbuds left on the desk, his expression pensive, his brows furrowed until he finally grunted. “You wanna talk?”
“Oh. No. I’ll leave you to your work. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You gotta talk to me sooner or later.”
I studied him as he leaned back, his knees apart, one hand on the chair arm, the other rubbing his chin. I bit my lip. The last time we were like this, he’d invited me to sit on his lap and explained the complexities of his latest design for his thesis. Right now, he looked drained. Exhausted. His lips pressed into a tight line, the cut of his jaw even more defined, and his eyes narrowed.
“Are you that mad at me, or is there something else?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m also fighting with my dad.”
“About me?”
“What? No. About work.”
“Oh.” My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides. I knew as well as most that talking it out made a lot of things feel less compact. I wanted to be there for him, but surely, by now, he had someone else to lean on? I also knew that talking to him would alleviate some of my own issues, and that…seemed selfish.
I asked, “The delegating you to grunt work? Do you want to talk about it?”
He watched me for a long minute, as if he was contemplating the implications and consequences of letting down his walls. “Sure.”
I pulled over the round cushioned footrest and sat down beside him. And waited.
“Things were never great,” he finally started. “You know that. Don’t get me wrong, I owe a lot of things to my dad. He pushed me to be my best, but anything less isn’t worth it for him. Things haven’t been the same since he found out about us dating.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I wondered if Daniel knew about his dad running me off, and if so, how Daniel had reacted, whether he thought his father had a point.
“He’s groomed me to take over the business but won’t listen to a single idea, won’t let me make a single decision. Like I’m a child. Like I didn’t graduate with honors or don’t know what I’m talking about or didn’t make my own way in New York. He makes me want to leave again. It’s always his way or no way.”
“Oh, Daniel. I’m so sorry. Is there any other way to reach him?”
He shrugged. “I’m out of ideas. He has to listen in order to communicate. All we do is fight.”
“Are you going to stay?”
His expression fell flat, as if Houston had one too many pains for him to endure. We talked a bit longer about the stunts his dad kept pulling, his mom’s absence from the equation, and how his grandparents didn’t need to be stressed out by an already strained relationship. Essentially, he had no one to vent to.
He half chuckled. “Sorry. I’m unloading a lot of crap on you. Not many people to talk to down here. Jackson was the guy, but there are no secrets between him and Brandy, and she doesn’t need to get involved again. My other friends seem to be too busy with their own stuff.”
“Don’t worry. I’m happy to listen. Wish I had something more to offer.” I gave a soft smile, feeling less and less wound up.
“It’s not an easy fix. What about you? How you doing? Seem to be working nonstop.”
“Work is intense” was all I said.
He lifted his chin and looked down at me through drowsy, weary eyes. “Nah. Something’s going on.”
I scoffed and jumped to my feet but ended up wobbling.
“You okay?”
“My feet are killing me. Thrombosis is a real fear. My brain might explode from a traveling clot one day.”
“Damn, you’re morbid sometimes. Here.” He shot to his feet, whirled me around, and eased me onto the chair while he took a seat on the footrest.
“What are you doing!” I squealed when he took my foot onto his lap. A bout of uncontrolled laughter burst from my lips. “Stop!”
He laughed at me. “Calm down.”
“I’m ticklish!”
“I know!” His soft touch turned firmer as he kneaded the crap out of my arches and oh my lord…
I gasped with the most unexpected, intense explosion of pleasure and relief.
“You should try massages on the regular,” he said as my head floated back.
“Yep,” I mumbled.
“Is this helping? Too hard?”
“Perfect,” I moaned, then stilled, realizing how that sounded.
“So I see that I still got you making those noises.”
“Shut up.” I pushed my foot against his stomach.
“This isn’t free, you know.”
“Yeah? How much do I owe you?”
He pulled my ankles toward him so that he dragged the rolling chair and suddenly he was sitting in between my knees, his hands gripping the chair arms, his biceps and forearms strained as he leaned into me. “You know what you owe me.”
“Um…” Wow, it was suddenly hot in here.
“Um?”
“What exactly…”
“An explanation, Pree.”
My stomach dropped. I should’ve pushed back, gotten up, anything, but Daniel was a force field and I’d gotten sucked into it. “I-I can’t right now.”
“Why not?”
“I’m going through a lot.”
“So am I,” he replied, his tone sharp.
“Not right now, Daniel.”
“You gonna run again?”
“Kind of hard to run when you have me trapped.”
“I’ve got a lot of problems being back in Houston. Can you alleviate just one?”
“I’ve got a lot of stress, too!” I shot back. “You being in my face doesn’t help. And why do you care so much about what happened six years ago?”
“Because one doesn’t just get over the love of his life walking away! What the hell, Pree? Why can’t you just give me a damn answer?”
I blinked, a nauseating sensation rumbling through my insides. How hard was it to tell him that I never stopped loving him, and worse than that, that I left him for the wrong reasons? The words were simple and few, but they knotted on my tongue and refused to come out.
Daniel grunted and tilted his head back, biting his lip to keep from cursing.
I stood then, still straddling his thighs, and looked down at all the pain and turmoil I’d caused, plain as day on his face. I touched his cheek as tears welled in my eyes, my thumb grazing his lips.
His hands touched the backs of my knees but quickly fell away when all I could muster was “I’m so sorry that I hurt you.” I walked away as tears blurred my vision.
I closed the bedroom door and wiped away the tears and tried not to succumb to the growing, overwhelming panic. I wanted to ease his pain and anger. I wanted to be better. I wanted to not be that person who ruined things. I wanted to be stronger than this.
But I wasn’t.
I didn’t have anyone to talk to. My parents would be concerned about Daniel being back in my life and worry about my anxiety. Yuvan seemed to see only black and white when I was full of gray. Liya had her own problems. Reema was on a honeymoon high. Sana was too busy.
After several minutes of lying in bed in silence, I heard the front door open and close. Daniel must’ve left while all my attempts to fall asleep failed. I plugged in my earbuds and listened to the calming app, contemplating why I hadn’t gone to my doctor to get diagnosed for this throbbing, engulfing anxiety that prowled toward the verge of depression.
I closed my eyes tight. There was a huge stigma around doctors having mental illness. No one wanted to be treated by them. No one wanted to work with them. The same stigma existed in the community, in society in general, and in my family. It was taboo, shameful. I didn’t agree with any of it, but it had prevented me from seeking help.
I needed help. With gnawing anticipation and trembling fingers, I booked an online appointment with a shaky breath. Why was I, a physician, so scared to face my issues? Guess even doctors weren’t perfect or logical all the time.
I couldn’t sleep and there was no time to feel pity or overwhelming confusion. I had things to get done, projects to finish, and a job to nail down. I grabbed chips and salsa, opened my laptop and pulled up my slide deck. Now to transfer essays’ worth of information into a presentation worthy enough to wow my boss into giving me the job. Olivia was my closest competition for the position, and her case studies were typically brilliant, so I needed to bring my A game and had only another week to prepare.
When Daniel returned, it was midnight and I almost walked right into him when I came out of the bathroom.
“Oh!” I jumped, placing a hand to my chest. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he said, a little startled to find me awake.
“Where were you so late?” I asked out of curiosity, realizing only after the fact that it prodded into an area I had no right asking about.
He tilted his chin up. “Drinks with Alisha. You might’ve met her at my parents’ house.”
My heart sank into my stomach, my head dizzy. I didn’t understand why. Of course Daniel would’ve moved on. He didn’t love me anymore. He probably didn’t feel half the things I still felt for him.
I hardened my emotions. “You make a nice couple.”
“Thanks,” he gritted out.
“Good to know things worked out for both of us.”
There was a flicker of anguish in his expression, a flash in his eyes. “You’re dating someone?”
“Yes,” I said boldly, proudly, my chin up.
His gaze swept down my body, leaving a white-hot trail. “You have sauce on your socks,” he said dryly and went to the bedroom.
I scoffed, letting out a tattered breath, and exchanged my salsa-stained socks for a new pair.
Daniel stripped off his shirt and undid his pants at the edge of the bed.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, begging my eyes not to glance down. Don’t do it, eyes, don’t you dare peek or I will end you.
“Going to bed.”
“I thought you were sleeping on the couch.”
He stepped out of his pants, letting them drop to the floor, and slipped underneath the covers and closed his eyes. “Nope. But you can.”
I could. Reason told me it was best. But the bed was more comfortable and warmer. I wasn’t going to relinquish a good night’s sleep for the sake of being stubborn.
I huffed and climbed underneath the blankets. Daniel was sprawled across his side of the bed as if he’d fall asleep any moment in restful bliss, whereas I lay as stiff as a log staring at the ceiling. Another night of sleeping together in silent war.
