“And whenever I do see you,” she continued, “you’re either wrapped up in family drama, or you’re so tired that we can’t even have supper together, let alone talk. How am I supposed to tell you anything like this when the only time I see you anymore is when you’re in bed?”
Even though what she was saying was true, and that so much had changed since I took on The Foundation. I left the hospital six months after our relationship began, and I thought we had done our best to work around it and find a way to be together. I knew she still resented me for it, even if she never said it, but I thought she at least understood.
I moved my hand back to hers, trying to entwine our fingers, but her fist remained clenched.
“I’m sorry about that,” I said, genuinely meaning it. “But I’ve told you why. It will only be for a few more months, and then I’ll have time. I’m planning on hiring more staff and—”
“No, Harry.” Her eyes filled with the same pain that appeared every time we argued about work. “You can’t say it will get better. You’ve been saying that for over a year and it’s not getting better.” She unfurled her fist to tuck a frayed hair behind her ear. “That’s why I want this holiday to be a chance to see if we really want this.”
I drew back from her, sighing as I replied.
“So, you’re breaking up with me. Right before you leave?”
“I’m not breaking up with you. I just think we should separate for a little bit. And when I come back, we can talk properly.”
I turned my head to look at the far wall to take another moment to gather myself. Emptiness beat a hole in my chest, and I was torn between breaking down or exploding. But neither would have any effect when my emotions were so dead.
The wall was filled with hundreds of memories we had built up over the years. Photos from dates, short holidays, beautiful days out together, as well as certificates of our achievements, and anything else we thought was worth remembering. It was a chaotic mix of knickknacks, but it was a collection of us.
I was amazed that she thought something like this could be so neat and tidy, that I would somehow be happy being left to deal with the consequences while she was off celebrating her freedom with her family.
“That sounds like you’re breaking up with me,” I said softly as I turned back to her. I wanted to talk about this now that we’re actually sitting down together, but I was too late.
My phone dinged, announcing her taxi had arrived. She jumped up, nearly sprinting towards the door to get away from me.
“You’re honestly leaving me like this?” I tracked her movements as she zipped up her suitcase, her back to me. She didn’t even have the decency to look at me. “You’re just walking out the door after dropping that bombshell on me?”
I heard her draw a ragged breath before she shot back around, eyes blazing.
“It wouldn’t be a fucking bombshell if you sat up and paid attention for once in your life!” she burst out. “If you weren’t so obsessed with doing right by everyone, you’d realise you’ve been ignoring the one person who’s meant to be at the centre of it.”
I didn’t have any answer to that. I knew in the back of my mind what I was doing every time I chose to stay at the office instead of coming home.
“Me, Harry!” she shouted across the empty space between us. “I’m talking about me! The person you’re supposed to love. The person you want to marry!”
I could have shouted back, joined her in the argument she so obviously wanted to have, but I was too numb. What was the point when the taxi that was ready to whisk her away to a finer life was parked outside our front door?
“You need to go to the airport,” I sighed, all my energy dropping away. “The driver is waiting.”
I was tired of arguments, of these moments of tension that always brought out an ugly side of both of us. We had had something special, but we'd changed too much since then. I didn't want to let her go, but would it make a difference if I asked her to stay?.
“So, you just want to get rid of me then, is that it?” Molly lifted her chin, her pain shining through her anger.
I shook my head. “Can’t we talk properly when you arrive?” I was done. There was only so much I could take.
“I don’t have a phone, Harry!” she yelled, suitcase in hand, backing towards the door. “How are we meant to talk, huh?”
I rose as well, walking towards her, wondering if this was really goodbye.
“Then buy a new one when you get there. Or I’ll have one sent to your parents. Or email me, or something that doesn’t mean we’re ending it like this.”
“We don’t stay in touch even when we live together. What makes you think we’ll talk when we’re apart!?”
I pressed the heel of my hand against my forehead, glad that the driver honked the horn again. She needed to go before this got any uglier.
“Molly, why are we even getting married if you feel like this?” I looked up at her, rage marring her face.
“You tell me!” she snarled as she opened the door, slamming it behind her, shaking the picture on the wall of the first day we brought Mr Snuggles home as a kitten, both of us beaming at the camera as we held each other.