"You should talk to him," Melissa suggested, her voice steady and calm, cutting through the tension in the room. She fixed her gaze on me with an intensity that made me feel exposed, as if she could see right through my doubts and fears.
"Just listen to what he has to say," she urged, genuinely encouraging me to explore the possibility of understanding his perspective.
"Are you sure about this?" I asked, my skepticism evident in my tone. I was taken aback by her unexpected support for the idea. It seemed so out of character for her.
"Look, I'm on your side," she replied with a weary sigh, her patience wearing thin. "Xia, when he opened up to me about the marriage, I could feel his sincerity. He seemed genuinely remorseful for what He said."
"But that doesn't justify the lies he's told," I countered, frustration lacing my words. "It just doesn't make sense!"
"You're not wrong," she acknowledged, her expression softening, "but the truth is, only he can give you the answers you're looking for."
"What should I do?" I asked, my voice trembling as tears began to fill my eyes, threatening to spill over. The weight of the situation felt unbearable.
"I know this is hard," Melissa said softly, her eyes filled with empathy. "But one thing is for sure," she continued, reaching out to take my hands in hers. "I don't want you to get hurt, and I will always be by your side, no matter what." As she wrapped me in a warm embrace, I could feel the tension in my body start to ease. The comforting scent of her perfume and the strength of her presence enveloped me like a safety net. In that moment, I could sense the sincerity in her voice—and the love she had always shown me during my toughest times.
Her unwavering support was exactly what I needed, and I felt grateful to have her in my life.
"Please, just hear me out," Harrish's deep voice interrupted my thoughts, pulling me back into the present. He was seated across from me, his expression serious.
"You probably do!" I shot back, my anger bubbling to the surface. I locked eyes with him, searching for any sign of honesty, just as Melissa had suggested.
"I'll explain everything to you after dinner," he said, his tone serious and his gaze unwavering. That familiar intensity in his eyes made me feel uneasy—he always had that effect on me. We were at a two-person table in one of my favorite restaurants, the ambiance filled with soft lighting and the sound of distant conversations. Normally, I would relish this atmosphere, but right then, nothing mattered because I was overwhelmed by a storm of emotions directed at him.
"I-I don't understand!" I stammered, frustration creeping into my voice. "Why are you doing this to me?" I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the whirlwind inside me.
Ever since he returned, everything in my life had unraveled, and I detested it all. I hated that he still had a grip on my emotions, that he could dictate my feelings, and, most of all, I hated the nagging question of why he had come back when he seemed so happy and settled living in the States.
"And why are you fabricating stories to Mhel?" I demanded, my voice sharp. His expression remained calm, as though he was expecting my interrogation. "What exactly do you want from me?" I pressed, noticing the way his eyes sparkled, reminiscent of the first time I had met him.
"Marry me!" he declared suddenly, the words hanging in the air like an electric charge. I couldn't help but laugh humorlessly at his audacity.
"We broke up eight years ago, and now you want to marry me?" I exclaimed, disbelief twisting my features. My voice rose slightly with anger, and I continued, "Why bother marrying me if you just want me in your bed?"
"Is that really what you think of me?" he snapped back, his voice laced with hurt. I flinched, not expecting such a fierce response from him. The look in his eyes was intense, so much so that it caught me off guard. "If that's all I wanted, then I would have done that eight years ago," he countered, his words coming through gritted teeth, leaving me momentarily speechless.
At some point, he was undoubtedly right. If that had been his only intention, why had he waited this long? Yet the question lingered: why did he want to marry me now?
"Look," Harrish said firmly, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. "I'm truly sorry for hurting you," he admitted, his voice softer now, tinged with regret. His dark brown eyes had shifted from hard to tender, and as he gazed into mine, something in me softened too.
But just as I prepared to respond, a young waitress approached our table, balancing a tray of food in her small hands.
She set our dishes down carefully, her eyes drifting over to Harrish who gracefully seated across at me, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks as she caught my gaze.
The moment felt surreal, and I couldn't help but feel a small smile creasing my lips—a contrast to the tension moments before. The young girl, named Joy, returned my smile sheepishly when she notice me looking at her intently before retreating, clearly flustered.
"Let's eat first," Harrish suggested, sensing the tension still hovering in the air. It was a welcome distraction, but the weight of our conversation still loomed over us like a dark cloud, waiting to be addressed.