“Elena, please, just let me come in so we can talk.”
“No, it’s too late for that.” I felt such rage inside that I was almost afraid of what I might do. The tears that I’d been fighting so hard to contain were winning, and I hated that for myself; I hated showing any kind of weakness in front of him.
How dare he show up here like this? Acting so blasé, as if he wasn’t the monster who had hurt me in the worst possible way. How dare he think that all the pain and hurt of the last five years could just be swept away and forgotten by his mere presence?
In the past, it was always like that. I was always quick to forgive him and move on from whatever idiotic thing he’d done. Because I believed that that’s what love was. Long-suffering, forgiving, merciful. All the things an innocent young girl should believe. But look where that got me.