Gemma

After Vincent toured the Moralez mansion and the grounds, he went back to the outhouse. Though he didn't want to go back, the constant chime of messages on his phone didn't let him continue the tour.

I went back to my home. 

Gabriel sat at the entrance steps, peering at the trail of ants that roamed around.

"I knew you loved animals but aren't ants like in the lowest of the lot," I said as I sat beside him on the steps. "Don't tell me you want to adopt ants too now."

Gabriel chuckled but he knew I was telling the truth. He was a big-time animal lover. We have a long list of domesticated pets at home - including a monitor lizard (which I detested from my core).

"You're making small talk again," Gabriel turned to me, ruffling my hair. "You still seem-"

"I'm yet to shake off the image of Sofia when I saw her."

"Come here." Patting the gap on the steps, Gabriel called me. 

I moved closer to him. He coiled his arm around my back, patting the crown of my head. With those soft taps, I felt calm. My head leaned over his shoulder as we watched the sunset.

"I can imagine how you must have wanted to react when you Sofia," he said. "But I'm proud, sister."

"Of?"

"Of the fact that you didn't let your heart rule you. You made the logical judgement in helping her before going after anyone who hurt her."

"As opposed to..." I broke our embrace. My eyebrows bridged and my brother used this moment to display his crooked smile.

"As opposed to those earlier days when you'd just go after the target and not care about people."

"You're just like me, Gab." I pointed at him and leaned back for his warm embrace. I wasn't done with his affection. Neither was I done with what he wanted to convey.

Gabriel was right. In my initial days of training, I'd always focused on the target than people. 

Many lives were lost, and many people killed because I couldn't let go of revenge.

Even this time, when I called in my chit, it was my means to seek revenge.

But something changed when I saw Sofia's limp body on the concrete floor. Though she bled, it was my chest that felt its cut. She wasn't able to talk yet, it was my mouth that dried.

With that, I got an understanding about myself. 

I'd begun treating Sofia as an extension of me rather than my ward. Her happiness and her peace meant a lot to me. And so did her safety.

It stopped being about the mission, about hunting down Vincent, when I saw her battered body.

"You know what," I said while trying to deviate from the topic. "Anto is very scared. He's just putting on a brave face for the rest of the family."

"I can understand." Gabriel sighed, closing his eyes. "He loved Sofia like his sister. And no brother can see their siblings suffer, especially..." he looked down on me. "...if they are their baby sisters."

Guilt warmed my chest. 

"I'm sorry. For the way I'd left things, Gab. I know I shouldn't have left you. I know I should have talked to you about-"

"It's all in the past, Gem. All we can do now is try and move on."

Gabriel hated displaying his emotions. Perhaps, it was the biggest reason for me to have left with Vincent before. I hated seeing my brother go into his cocoon, assuming that if he displayed his emotions, he'd appear vulnerable.

"Right." Clearing my throat, I nodded. "Anyways-"

"Did you talk to him? Vincent?"

"Actually..." I pulled my hair back and tied it in a bun. Strands of hair fell on my face when I peered at my brother. They acted as a veil against the truth.

"You didn't speak to him!"

"I didn't have time, Gab."

"And how much time does it take to say..." He put his fingers out. "I want a divorce."

Counting, he showed me the number - four.

Yes, it was a mere four words to say. Yet, it felt like an eternity to utter it, even if for practice. After all, those four words had the power to crush what Vincent and I once dreamt of as our eternity.

I never imagined the power of words to be so strong that the foundations of hopes and dreams could shudder. 

"Get going, Gem." Gabriel patted my back and straightened from the steps. He moved a step ahead and lent me his hand. "The more you delay in telling him, the more Vincent will be hurt."

It was then I realized another truth. 

I was protecting Vincent by ingesting the bitter truth in me. Spilling it would hurt him, so instead, I decided to keep it in my chest and suffer the pain it caused. 

Like when I ran away from Mexico to avoid any hurt I could cause Gabriel, I was repeating the same pattern. 

I took Gabriel's hand and straightened. 

It was time to break the pattern.

It was time to stop my suffering.

~

I walked up the driveway leading to the outhouse where Vincent stayed. 

Gravel crunched beneath my boots. The harsh winds from the west tossed my hair in all directions and whistled in my ears.

Once I reached the security outpost, the guards saw me and let me inside the first entrance. The metal gates clanged and creaked when the security pushed it open.

I could see a silhouette on the balcony, smoking something.

Vincent loved cigars but occasionally, he smoked weed to relieve the stress.

He must have seen me walk in for that figure disappeared from the balcony. Lights appeared on his front porch. He pushed the door open and walked outside, halting at the last step.

As I reached the entrance, his head slightly tilted towards my side.

"You forgot something, Emm?"

"Oh no." Dammit. I should have called first. "Uhmm. Can we talk inside?"

With hooked eyebrows and a look that hovered over me, checking to understand why I had come, Vincent welcomed me inside.

I'd seen a couple of Moralez outhouses to know how it looked from the inside.

Vincent's outhouse wasn't remotely close to what I'd seen. Antonio gave him the best house.

With a five-foot chandelier that hung from the floors above, the place beamed like the sun. Long windows put on display the scenic sunset and the long range of distant mountains. The ethanol-run fireplace gave a cosy warmth from the chill that was setting in.

"Please, have a seat." Vincent pointed towards the beige couch. "I'll get you something to drink."

Though I wanted to be in my full sense when I spoke, I couldn't say no to alcohol. In some ways, I was prepared to nurse my wounds, and his, with the numbness I felt after drinking.

I sat on the couch, looking around. 

Haruki Murakami's book - Norwegian Woods - lay on the couch. The bookmark peeked from the corner. I picked it up, unknowingly bringing it closer to smell it.

Vincent cleared his throat. He rattled the ice in the glass and lent it to me.

"You still do that?" He asked, pointing at the book. "Smell them."

"There's something about books, and about people who use them. It differs. The smell."

The side of the couch dipped as Vincent's body rested over it. He turned to me, sipping his drink.

"So tell me, what does this book tell you?"

"You mean the smell?" I didn't know if that was his question.

"Unless you read the whole thing, yes. I'm asking about the smell. You said it, there's something about it." Another sip. "So what does it tell."

I contemplated for a moment, how to go around the topic before striking up the conversation I came to have. Then it hit me. 

Why was I rushing to rip the bandaid?

Why was I in such a hurry?

I knew the answer. 

"The smell," I began. "Tells this an old book. The corners are slightly folded. This means it was passed on by someone to you. And knowing you, you'd not buy something second-handed unless-"

"Unless given to me by someone special."

"So who is it?" 

Why did it spark curiosity? 

"You really want to know?"

Don't fall for the trap, Gemma. 

"Yes, I do."

Crap

"It's my mother."

Dammit. 

I knew it. I had known his mother loved collecting first-edition books. 

Taking a sip of my drink, I hissed between my teeth. 

"Strong," I whispered. "I hate whiskey."

"I know."

When I looked up at him, he appeared closer. Although he didn't move, it was the mirage of it all. 

It was nature's way of showing our closeness to me so that I wouldn't shove him far away. 

I had a theory that for people who loved one another, whenever they tried separating, nature would intervene and show them the happy times. It was like the universe didn't want loved ones to part and in its last attempt, made us feel the nostalgia.

I felt it too. Seeing Vincent smile at me, and challenge me with his questions took me back to the time when all those things impressed me.

It still did. 

Yet, I had to do it.

"Vincent," with a heavy heart, I began. "You know I didn't come here to discuss about books."

"I know." He gulped the whole glass and looked up, constantly blinking. "And unless you've come to sleep with me before we leave for home, I've got a fair idea what's about to come."

"Then put me out of my misery, Vinny. Why are we doing this?"

He tossed the glass to the corner, smashing it into pieces. 

More than the glass, I knew his heart had shattered into uncountable pieces. 

"I can't let you go, Emm. I've loved you too much to let you go."

His back faced me. His arms slid into his hair, holding onto the roots. Vincent didn't turn for long, breathing heavily. 

The only sound in the room was from the soft hisses near the fireplace whenever fuel was released. 

I knew I had to explain. He needed an answer. 

"Vincent..."

"Why are you doing this to me? To us?" He turned around. Reddened eyes, blotched nose and trembling lips had my stutter. 

"Because..." Stay strong. "I'm done pretending."

"Of loving me." Those words weren't said heavily. He said those as the air left his chest. As if my reply deflated his core. "You're done pretending to be married to me?"

I nodded, gulping down the lump in my throat. "Yes."

Right on cue, tears hazed my vision. I knelt on the floor, heaving for air. "I want a divorce."

Four words

No amount of practice would ever prepare anyone to say those words without the tsunami of anger and hatred hitting back. 

Vincent loved me with all his heart. Today, I tore open his chest and smashed his love for me. I was sure to cut and bled with what he assumed to be defending his love.

"I'm leaving," he said. Picking his mobile from the table, he walked away. 

I stayed kneeling on the floor, drawing air through my mouth. 

The worst was done.

The worst, from Vincent's end, was yet to come.

"Please ask them to get the plane running. I'm leaving now."

As soon as those words hit my ears, my legs straightened. Wiping my tears away, I searched for the source. 

Vincent was in the kitchen, leaning over the sink and heaving, clutching his phone.

"We need to talk, Vincent. You can't just up and leave."

"I am." He looked up. Anger and betrayal danced over his face, his narrowed eyes. "I'm done talking to you."

"As always... Run away whenever I want to have a heavy conversation with you. Run away because you can't digest anything remotely realistic."

As his teeth dug into his lower lips, Vincent looked up. His shoulders moved up and down. His throat bobbed.

When he peered back at me, the intensity of his gaze made me scared. 

"You're blaming me, Emm? After all this time, after all I've done for you. To love you. To protect you. You're still blaming me?"

Vincent moved closer and I kept sliding back. 

Once my back hit the wall, there was no escape. 

"You..." he pointed at me, breathing. "You are one to blame me, Emm. Without even looking at what you do."

"What do you mean?"

Vincent's phone rang. He picked it up, nodding to what the other side said. When he ended the call, his intense gaze softened. 

His harsh breathing paced slower. Vincent, like before, appeared calm.

"It means that you run and escape too, Emm. You've always avoided anything remotely personal. Anything that involves love. You run from it. From people who want to love you. Care for you..."

Before I could state my defence, Vincent opened the doors, walked back to pick up his book and stood at the entrance. He didn't speak but wanted me to walk outside.

As I crossed him, he gently held my elbow. "Emm, I'm leaving. You'd not have to see me again."

Words. I had to say something. My mouth dried. My vision hazed again.

Rough pads his thumb wiped the misty corners of my eyes. He kissed my forehead, and patted the crown of my head, signing.

He walked ahead, leaving me standing at the entrance.

Before taking another step, he turned around and pointed at his book. "There's a very beautiful quote in this book."

Wiping my tears away, I nodded. "What?"

"It says - What happens when people open their hearts?"

My throat thickened. My chest felt hollow. "They get hurt." 

"No darling." He breathed harder. "They get better."

~

This chapter was hard to write.

Mostly because while Gemma grew out of love, Vincent was still in love.

And when you are still in love, and can't show or love the other person, it hurts even more...

Let me know your thoughts in the comments <3