I don’t feel it. I’m sorry.

You own me, Camilla.

I can’t give you what you want.

I love you.

I tried.

You are the love of my life, Camilla.

I have nothing keeping me here.

Those words echoed in my mind as I looked up at Jonathan. He’d said those words the day he chose to walk out on us. The man in front of me begging for me back said those words to me and he was steadfast in his decision. I couldn’t forget the pain those words caused me.

“Do you remember what you said to me in the hospital?” I ask quietly, sliding his hands down from my face.

Jonathan’s chin tips to the side as my question catches him off guard. The realisation of what I was asking him hits like a punch to the gut. I could see the pain spread across his tired features quickly. He remembered, but I wanted him to say that he did.

“Because I remember.” I move closer to Jonathan, who instinctively steps back, granting me space between us.

“Camilla, I…” He looks at the floor and runs his hand through his perfectly styled hair.

“All you had to say was don’t go, we wouldn’t be where we are now, but you let me walk out that door. Now, you’re asking me to trust you and give you a chance, and you that you love me. I gave you a chance, but you chose this,” I gestured between us. “Aren’t you the one that said you couldn’t give me what I wanted?”

“Camilla… “ He trails off. “I remember what I said, and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. I can’t take those words back; I know that.” A heavy sigh leaves his mouth. “I should never have let you leave, Camilla.” He reaches for me, but I take a step back. “Tell me what you want me to do? I’ll do anything, but I can’t –“

I cut him off. “I’m going back to my date and back to enjoying my night.”

“I can’t let you do that, Camilla.” His words are bitter and dripping with an unseen warning.

“I don’t need your permission, Jonathan. We aren’t anything to each other, not anymore. You made sure of that.” My words came out more spiteful than I had anticipated.

Jonathan moves towards me, but I skirt around him and push the gold doors open. Almost immediately, I come to an abrupt stop as I hit a hard chest.

“Woah! Watch it, little lady.” Dean chuckles as he wraps his arm around my waist, steadying me.

“Dean, shit, sorry. I should have been looking where I was going.” I nervously look up at him and away.

“It’s all good darlin. Are you ok?” His eyes move from mine to Jonathan behind me.

“Yes,” I reply quietly, turning around and looking at Jonathan.

“Jonathan, it’s good to see you again, man.” Dean offers his hand to Jonathan.

Jonathan stills, rage darkening his gaze. I trace his eyes down to Dean’s hand on my waist.

“Dean, let’s head back in.” I turn in his arm, gently nudging him back into the gala, but Dean doesn’t move; his gaze leaves Jonathan and scans my face as his other hand drops back to his side.

He’s not stupid; he can feel the tension in this room, and it’s made all the worse when he realises, I’ve been crying.

“Darlin, you’ve been crying,” His hand sweeps up the side of my face, worry spreading across his face.

“It’s nothing.” I turn my face away and out of his hand. “Please, let just- “

Dean’s hand falls from my side and he steps between me and Jonathan, glaring at him.

“What the fuck did you do?” He grits out between clenched teeth.

“Please, Dean, just leave it. I’m ok. Please.” I tug at his jacket from behind.

Jonathan takes a step forward, closing the gap between him and Dean. I can feel the heat from both bouncing back and forth. Jonathan opens his mouth, hands in fists by his side, but he’s cut off when Anthony approaches from the side.

“Hey man, there you are. Me and Es have been looking for you.” He slaps Jonathan on the shoulder, looking nervously between the two angry men. “Listen,” he says quietly as he steps in front of Jonathan, blocking his view. “Don’t do this now, ok? Let’s just call a truce for now.” He looks at Dean for confirmation of his words. Dean nods his head. “And we can sort this out another time.” His gaze returns to Jon as he places his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder to calm him down.

It felt like an eternity before Jonathan’s shoulders dropped, and he steps back.

“Good, let’s all just take a big breath. Ok?” Anthony makes the breathing gesture with his hands as I glance over to Jonathan, who is watching my every move like a predator stalking its prey. No words were said as his eyes left mine, breaking his hold on me. And, just like that, he turns on his heel and walks out of Gotham Hall.

My stomach twists in knots as I watch him fade from my view. My mind begins to race, a million-question flooding in.

“I’m sorry about him, he’s… I don’t know what’s going on with him.” Anthony’s tone is exhausted as he rubs his hand over his face.

“Can you just give me a minute?” I put my index finger up and picking my dress train up I run towards the doors, hoping to catch Jonathan before he gets in his car.

The first snow of winter begins to fall, and the cold whips around me, freezing me instantly to my bones. I try to ignore it as I narrow my gaze at the roads, searching for Jonathan’s car. His distinctive brake lights illuminate the road; he’s not far away.

“See me. Please, see me,” My words a whisper that is quickly swallowed by the snow and wind swirling around me, blanketing me in a white dust.

My heart momentarily drops but then picks up its pace as my mind thinks of ways to meet him at his apartment.

Anthony and Dean appear at my side; Anthony’s eyes follow my gaze as he, too, realises that Jonathan is now too far away for him to see or hear either of us. Meanwhile, I hear Dean on his phone as he meets my gaze.

“Yeah, right now,” He says, slowly pacing. “We’re out the front. How long?” He shrugs his coat off and fumbles with his phone, placing it over my shoulders. “10 Minutes? If you can cut that in half, I’ll double your tip,” Dean smiles at me. “Cool, see you soon, man.” He hangs up.

“Who was that?” I ask, pulling his coat tighter around me.

“I called our driver; he should be here any minute,” Dean replies, wrapping his arms around me to warm me up a little more. “Go inside, Anthony. I’ve got this.” He gestures with his head towards the doors behind us.

Anthony nods and in swift strides he disappears behind us.

“Dea-“

Dean cuts me off. “Not another word, ok?” He looks down at me.

We stand there, in a comfortable silence as the cold whips around us. Dean won’t move, even if I begged him, so I don’t.

“The car, darlin.” He shifts so I can see. “Quick, get in before you freeze.” Dean guides me to the car, swiftly opens the door and ushers me in. “Don’t worry, I’ll get a ride with Anthony. He smiles down at me.

I smile back as he closes the door and blows me a kiss. Within moments, we are pulling away into the New York night.

 

Pulling up outside Jonathan’s apartment building felt -strange. I hadn’t seen this building in so long I’d forgotten how intimidating it was at night. Like the old, dark, haunted house at the end of the street, its shadow swallowing light and the street below it. I quickly closed the door behind me and told the driver to go. I can always call an Uber if things don’t go well. Approaching the door, my eyes land on the intercom. Memories of Jonathan’s voice saying my name with such love play in my head. But not tonight; it was deafeningly silent.

Should I press the button? Will he even let me up?

I should go, I think to myself.

“No, we’re here, and we’re doing this.” I remind myself quietly.

As I lift my hand to press the buzzer, the door swings open next to me, and a bunch of very drunk guys stagger out, laughing. I back up and give them space as they clear the door frame. Without a second thought, I grab the door and quickly slip inside.

At least I didn’t have to press the buzzer and risk Jonathan ignoring it or, worse yet, telling me to leave, I thought to myself as I headed for the elevator.

I’m shocked to see they have changed the elevators to new, sliver fancy ones with red curtains draping in front of them. It’s a sad reminder that though time felt like it had stood still for me, it had been moving faster than I anticipated. After a few stops, the elevator finally comes to a stop on Jonathan’s floor. My stomach flips with nerves. This was it, I’m here. The memories of Jon standing waiting at the elevator and pulling me into his arms the moment I stepped out flooded my mind. Now, he wasn’t here, and the floor was cold and dimly lit. I don’t remember it ever being this dark, but then I wasn’t focused on the lighting; I was focused on Jonathan’s all-consuming kiss that left me breathless, his hands running up my spine as he mapped out every inch of me like he hadn’t seen me for years. I missed you, he’d say when we came up for air.

“We can do this,” I remind myself.

When I stop in front of his door, I’m overwhelmed by how intimidating it is. But then, I was never here under these circumstances.

 

**Eight months earlier**

I take a deep breath and go to knock, but before my hand makes contact, the door swings open. There he is. My heart skips a beat, and my stomach starts to flutter. His hair is down and wet.

Yuuuuuuum. My inner voice purrs.

He’s wearing a white, collared button-up shirt that is only done up to the middle, showing off the top of his chest. The sleeves are rolled up to just underneath his elbow. His signature necklaces adorn his neck while his grey trousers hug his hips in all the right places. I bite my lip at the sight of him. A soft smile appears across his face as I stand there very clearly eye-fucking him. 

He gestures for me to come in, immediately wrapping his arms around me and kissing my forehead before moving to my lips. His kiss is needy but sweet, almost like he couldn’t breathe, and now he finally could. The feeling of his lips on mine, his tongue invading my mouth sends my mind numb and chills down my spine. I bring one of my hands to the side of his, which is now cupping my face, and wrap it over his wrist. The ground begins to feel like it’s about to collapse underneath us. If it does I’ll happily fall with him.

When he breaks the kiss, I unconsciously let out a small whimper, he catches it and immediately chuckles under his breath as he studies my face.

“Hey,” he softly says.
“Hey.” I smile at him.

Jon slowly leans past me and pushes the door closed. As he does, I subtly turn my head to the side and close my eyes, letting the woody and zesty notes of his cologne fill my nose. He is so intoxicating, and all I want to do is bathe in him. He leans back, and I quickly open my eyes and smile at him.

“Welcome,” he smiles at me.

 

Back to present

“Just do it, just do it,” I quietly coach myself. “Just. Do. It.” I relax my body, and taking a deep breath, I knock on Jonathan’s door.

An agonising minute passes, and no one answers. I hesitate for a moment before knocking on the door again. I only get half a knock in when the door swings open, and Jonathan is still standing in his suit, looking at me with shock and concern.

“Camilla, what are you doing here? Are you ok?” He pulls me into his apartment. “Did something happen?” Jonathan asks as he scans my entire body.

“Jonathan,” I place my hands on his chest. “I’m fine, honestly.”

Relief rolls over his face.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. “Not that I’m not happy to see you here, but after what happened tonight, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Why?” I reply quietly, breaking his gaze. “Why did you leave?”

Jonathan leans behind me and closes the door.

Stepping back in front of me, he says, “I left because I would have said or done something that I couldn’t take back, and if you don’t want to see or talk to me, I won’t force you.” Jonathan slowly takes Dean’s coat off, hanging it behind me and softly guides me down to sit on the coat rack bench behind me.

“I didn’t mean what I said, I-“

Jonathan cuts me off, kneeling. “Your words were the truth; never regret telling me that.” His eyes pierce my soul. Slowly his warm hands find my calves and slowly slide down to the buckles of my heels. Electricity shoots through my body, lighting up all my senses and sending a slow, agonising shiver down my back. Closing my eyes, my head falls back, and a soft moan falls from my lips.

He heard you, my inner voice screams.

I snap my eyes open and see Jonathan busying himself, taking my heels off, but I catch a smirk that’s pulling at the corners of his lips.

Yep, he heard me, I sigh internally.

All too quickly, his hands leave me, and I feel cold and naked again. Silence falls between us as we both look at each other.

Jonathan raises to his feet, and offering his hand, he says, “Come, I’ll make you something warm to drink, and we can talk.”

I nod, taking his hand as he leads me further into his apartment. “What would you like?”

His question jolts me back to the reality of the situation we’ve found ourselves in. He doesn’t remember my favourite drink or that I’m allergic to coffee.

“Oh, umm, just a hot chocolate if you have any.” I fake a smile, but I’m hiding an aching heart.

“I do,” Jonathan grins from ear to ear like he’s proud he has something I like. “Go sit, and I’ll be there in a minute.” He winks at me and heads into his kitchen.

His apartment is dimly lit, the only light that is on is a small lamp in the corner of the living room. It shone enough light for me to make out most things around me and eerily looked like the night Jonathan asked me to be his girlfriend.

 

**Seven months earlier**

“Close your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you to, ok?”

“Will you guide me in?” I reply, closing my eyes.
“Of course, Camilla,” he reassures me.

I stand nervously in front of his door as I hear him unlock and open it. Taking my hand in his, he guides me into his apartment.

“Don’t open them yet.”
“Ok,” I reply as I feel his hand leave mine.

I hear him scurrying around his apartment, and then it goes quiet for a minute before I hear Taylor Swift’s – Lover playing quietly and the smell of Chandelle Parfumée fills the room.

“Ok, open your eyes, Melek,” he says quietly.

As my eyes flutter open, they immediately find Jonathan; the room is entirely dark except for a circle of tea light candles surrounding him, red and pink rose petals scattered on the floor. I cover my mouth with my hands; I’m completely speechless. I take a few steps back and look down; I realise a tea-light candle path leading right to him.

My eyes shoot back up to Jon, who is standing smiling at me. “Dance with me, Melek?” he offers his hand to me.

My stomach is so full of butterflies that I almost can’t get my words out. “I-” tears filling my eyes.

“Say yes,” Jonathan smiles nervously at me.

“Yes,” I whisper.

Relief visibly rolls over him at my answer.

Awww, he’s as nervous as me, I think to myself.

Jonathan meets me at the end of the path. I reach out and take his hand; his grip is soft as he leads me into the middle of the candles. As he twirls me around and pulls me into his arms, we both stumble on each other’s feet. We immediately start laughing as we fight to regain our balance. 

Once steady on our feet again, Jonathan slowly pulls me back into his arms. Holding my hand firmly, he kisses the back of it, then places it against his chest, holding it tightly. His other hand slides down and wraps around the base of my back. I rest my hand on his shoulder as he slowly begins to sway to the music.

Jonathan watches my face, trying to see if I’m enjoying this or if I’m bored. I lay my head on his shoulder, letting him know I’m enjoying this moment with him. Jon lets out a sigh of relief as I do.

Feeling him this close to me, surrounded by candles and roses, made the guilt of lying to him immensely worse. The butterflies scattered, and the anxiety crept back in. It was so overwhelming that before the song could finish, I slowly pull away from him.

“Are you ok, Melek?” His eyes flash with confusion and concern.
“I- I need to tell you something,” I reply quietly, looking at the floor.
“Before you do, I need to say something before I lose my nerve,” he nervously laughs.

Stepping closer to me, he lifts my chin softly bringing my gaze to his.

“You’ve brightened my every day since the first night we met. I can’t stop thinking about you; you have consumed my thoughts and dreams. I want to call you mine. Will you be my girlfriend, Camilla?”

 

Back to present

The weight of that memory almost crushes me. It seems like a lifetime ago when we were both very different people in different places. Now we are nearly strangers; only I know him better than he knows himself, but he doesn’t know me. Watching him move around the kitchen, I slowly make my way to the living room. I glance at the bed that used to be our bed and notice that it is unmade and messy, with pillows strewn everywhere. Under one pillow is the corner of what looks like a top or shirt of some kind. My first reaction is jealousy. Is this another woman’s shirt that she left here? He wouldn’t do that, right? Right?

Looking over my shoulder, I check where Jonathan is in the kitchen, his back is turned to me.

This was our side of the bed, my inner voice scowls.

Was, I remind her.

Turning my attention back to the shirt, I lift my dress a little to give me room to bend down and slowly pull the shirt out from under the pillow while continuing to watch over my shoulder for where Jonathan is. Pure shock hits me when I realise it’s the shirt, I stole from him when we first started dating. The one I slept in every night until a couple of months ago, the one I sent back to him.

“You found your shirt. I thought I had hidden it well,” Jonathan chuckles from behind me.

I drop the shirt and spin around to face Jonathan. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop, I mean touch your stuff. I just – “

Jonathan cuts me off. “You can touch…” he smirks at me suggestively. “…anything you like. That shirt is yours after all,” he says contently, leaning down, picking up his shirt and dropping it on his bed behind me.

“Were you… I mean…” I avoid his gaze, my cheeks burning red hot from his words.

“It has your perfume on it. I’ve slept with it every night since I got back. It’s the only thing that calmed my mind and heart.” He shoots me a mouth-watering, panty-soaking smile as he walks over to his couch, clearing a space for our cups amongst the many papers that litter the coffee table.

Hearing him say those words in that tone sent my stomach into a tailspin, chills running up my spine and heating my core. He always had a way with words. I mean, come on, this man could talk the panties off the Queen.

Let’s take our panties off now and have that drink later, my inner voice purrs.

Shut it! I snap back at her while trying to maintain my composure.

Completely unaware of the internal battle I’m having with myself, Jonathan says, “Where would you like me to start?” He places the drinks down, bringing his gaze back to mine.