I found myself lost in the pages of a photo album, my mind replaying the endless chase after Neil in what felt like a past life, a pursuit that endured until my dying breath.
It was unexpected, to say the least, that he still had this album, each photo immaculately preserved, a testament to careful guardianship.
"Ms. Finch," Chelsea spoke from the doorway, "Mr. Whitmore gazes at this album every night before sleep. It's clear he misses you deeply. His transformation made him believe he couldn't offer you happiness, leading him to let go."
"People are peculiar beings," I mused aloud, placing the album gently aside and offering a wry smile. "I chased him when he showed no interest, and just as I moved on, he began to seek my attention. Now, it's me chasing after a man who's decided to move on. Isn't it ironic, Chelsea?"
Chelsea sighed, responding, "Human emotions are complex, far from black and white. Don't overthink it. Living true to your heart is always the easiest path."
Her words resonated with a deep sense of truth, prompting a smile and a nod from me. "Yeah, I know."
Having lived twice, I had come to understand that life's meaning wasn't in obsessing over a single moment but in respecting my feelings and decisions at different times, without forcing or mocking them.
"Alright, Ms. Finch, you should get some rest. I'll wake you before Mr. Whitmore returns tomorrow," Chelsea assured, understanding my stance.
After she left, I took a relaxing shower, dried my hair, and settled into bed, the familiar scent of tobacco lulling me to sleep.
The next morning, I woke up around eight, earlier than expected, not waiting for Chelsea's wake-up call.
Descending the stairs, I was greeted by the aroma of porridge. Chelsea appeared from the kitchen, surprised to see me up, "It's unusual. Mr. Whitmore typically calls early if he's spent the night next door. It's past eight, and still no word."
"Perhaps he and Russel got caught up chatting late into the night," I suggested, seeing nothing odd about the situation.
The doorbell's chime startled us both, half-expecting Neil to walk in, though Russel would've informed me of his return.
Chelsea checked and returned, appearing slightly uneasy, "Ms. Finch, one of Mr. Whitmore's friends is here...”
"A woman?" I inferred from Chelsea's discomfort, bracing myself for an awkward encounter.
Nodding, Chelsea added, "But, Mr. Whitmore sees her just as a friend. It's her feelings that might differ."
Understanding the situation, I decided not to leave. This visit was about giving Neil and me another chance.
Hiram's arrival, pulling me towards the living room, dispelled my hesitation. If my choice was to stay for Neil, I couldn't just walk away.
Chelsea had already spilled the beans; Neil wasn't into Kitty, or so she claimed. Why Kitty decided to pop up today was beyond me, especially since Neil's demeanor towards her wasn't as icy as Chelsea had led me to believe.
He even went as far as to invite Kitty to stay for dinner.
I followed Hiram into the living room, where Kitty had already made herself comfortable on the couch. Neil, on the other hand, was off to the side, sipping on water and noticeably avoiding my gaze.
"Neil," I ventured, breaking the silence.
He barely glanced up, his once warm eyes now clouded with disdain. "What do you want, Irene? Here to enjoy my downfall?"
His words caught me off guard. "What? Why would you think that?" Despite his efforts to avoid me, I couldn't fathom why he'd see me in such a light.
"Isn't it obvious? I've been avoiding you for a year, Irene Finch. Haven't you got a clue?" His response was harsh, leaving no room for misunderstanding. It felt like a throwback to a time when I couldn't bear the thought of leaving him alone.
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