your
ervant… it helps you feel better,
So he wasn’t mad, and he wasn’t stupid. He knew I was provoking him, trying to find some sick satisfaction in destroying the idol my parents worshipped. And he was letting me. Willingly
Just so i could feel a little better.
*Actually,” Gervase continued, “there’s an even better way to get back at them. Take me home with you. Order me around in front of them, Humiliate me, belittle me, treat me exactly the way they treated you. Train me like a dog. Completely demolish everything they ever preached. How about that?”
I was stunned into silence by his proposal. “Are you sure you don’t have a masochistic streak?”
“It would be effective, wouldn’t it?” His gaze was calm, almost detached. “Then, the next time they yell at you, you can throw it back in their faces: ‘Even Gervase has to do what I say. Who the hell do you think you are?‘ Wouldn’t that feel amazing?”
“But–that’s not–I mean-” I shook my head, flustered. “You don’t have to do that for me. It’s not fair to you.”
“Fair?” Gervase let out a dry laugh. “Have I ever gotten fairness from you? When we were kids, I asked you why you hated me, and you never told me. I grew up, called you, texted you, you blocked me. I wrote you letters, and you never replied. You never gave me a single opening. And now, when it’s all gone too far, you just tell me you hate me and to get lost. I never did a sing- le thing wrong, Stella. Do you think that’s fair to me?”
He was angry. His voice was level, but I could feel the fury simmering beneath the surface. For the first time since he’d reappeared in my life, his calm facade cracked, revealing something
fierce underneath.
I bit my lip. “I don’t owe you an explanation,” I muttered. “We’re not… bound together. I can live my life just fine without you. But you… this obsessive act of yours is just plain weird.”
“Weird?” He laughed, a sound devoid of any humor. “I told you, I love you. I want to help you. I don’t want you to push me away because of those psychopaths. I want you to let me in. But it’s like you haven’t heard a single word I’ve said. You don’t trust me. Everything I say is just noise to you, isn’t it?”
“You can’t blame me for that!” I frowned. “I told you from the start I don’t like you, I don’t want anything to do with you. I hate you. You’re the one who won’t leave me alone, and now you’re blaming me for not responding? That’s completely insane!”
“Stella!”
Crash!
He swiped the teacup off the table. It shattered on the floor. His dark eyes, now blazing with anger, were locked on mine. “So, even now, you still don’t care about me at all. Not one tiny bit Do you?”
My breath hitched. I didn’t answer.
Gervase nodded slowly. “Right. I get it. I’m the fool. It was all in my head.” He got up and began picking up the shards of glass with his bare hands, dropping them one by one into the trash can. He ignored the fresh cuts on his palm, his face a mask of numb indifference.
‘You..
“I’m leaving,” he said. “And I won’t be back.”
Gervase was gone. I opened my mouth to say something, then closed it. Maybe this was for the best.
He’s finally given up.
I felt a wave of relief, but also confusion. He had shown up out of nowhere, and now he was leaving in a storm of inexplicable anger. What a strange, strange man. Utterly baffling.
The dinner he’d cooked was still on the table. I ate a few bites and put the rest in the fridge. Afterwards, I fell asleep on the sofa, curled around a pillow. When I woke up, the sky was pitch
black
I took the trash out, planning to go for a walk. I hadn’t gone more than a few steps before I stopped dead.
I saw Gervase
He was sitting on the corner of the staircase, his expensive coat smudged with dirt and torn by a nail, a clump of downy feathers spilling out. He was staring at the hole, his handsome features clouded with frustration and defeat. He looked exactly like a stray dog I’d once seen, abandoned and hopeless.
I thought about turning back, but what was the point? I walked over and kicked his leg lightly. “I thought you were leaving. Why are you sitting here instead of going home?”
“Waiting for you,” he said simply, “I was wrong. I’m
ry
It had been less than three hours since his dramatic exit. So much for his tough act. I looked at him, my expression a mixture of pity and exasperation. “So?”
“I was wrong,” he repeated, looking up at me. “And I’m still going to bother you. You promised me a month. This is only day one. You can’t get rid of me yet.” As he spoke, his eyes held a glimmer
of
reading “Stella, I’m hungry.”
“There are leftovers in the fridge…”
“I don’t eat leftovers.” He cut me off quickly. “Let’s go out. I’ll buy you dinner.” He then added, as if I were a child, “And you shouldn’t eat leftovers either. It’s not good for you.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You’re so bossy.”
