Chapter 005

"We need to talk, Ava."

The room is quiet, but Rogan's quiet, controlled voice breaks the stillness. I turn away from the window, the metropolitan skyline stretching out in front of me, and I wince, my heart pounding. It seems as though the immensity of the outside world is making fun of the cramped sensation in my chest, the sense of being confined to someone else's life.

He goes on, "You've been avoiding me," as he moves deeper into the space. "You haven't spoken much since that evening."

The irony is that the man who has been aloof and uninterested for weeks is now inquiring as to why I have separated myself. However, I find it difficult to express the idea. It won't help, I know that.

I bite my lip and look back out the window, hoping that the lights of the city will somehow comfort me. I know it's pointless, though. There is no way out of this, no way to hide from the oppressive coldness that looms between us.

I remark in a tight voice, revealing the irritation that has been rising inside of me, "I don't know what you want from me, Rogan." "You made up your mind. Isn't this marriage what you're after? what your family wants.

He murmurs, "You know it's more complicated than that," in a deeper tone. "In all of this, I had no choice."

The bitterness rises like a bitter tide as I scoff. "So you're the one who was hurt? Do you not believe that I share your feelings? You don't believe that I had no other option? Do you believe I desired any of this?

His deafening quiet simply serves to widen the gap between us. I'm not sure what I was hoping for—any gesture, some indication that he was more than the icy, uncaring man in front of me—but there isn't any. Only the gap that has widened between us.

I mutter, almost to myself, "Rogan, I've never been this person." "I knew you once. I knew who you were once.

A pause. Finally, I got an answer, but it wasn't what I was hoping for.

"You don't know me," he adds in a flat, emotionless voice. "You didn't."

I felt like I was slapped across the face by the words. There's no great surprise there, yet they hurt. No more. I've known him for so long that I no longer find the distance shocking. It simply aches.

I look at him after swallowing the lump in my throat. That makes two of us, I suppose.

I anticipate that he will depart and withdraw to whichever part of the world he has been hiding in. However, he doesn't. Rather, he just stands there, staring at me as though he's trying to find something. Or perhaps... awaiting my capitulation.

With a softer, more sensitive tone, he says, "What are we doing, Ava?" Neither one of us wanted this. But whether we like it or not, we can't avoid it. Can we at least attempt to make it work, then?

I give him my full attention, and for a split second, I catch a glimpse of the man I used to know—the one who embraced me and gave me the impression that I was the only person in the world. However, it is really a momentary illusion, a flicker. And before I can even grab it, it's gone.

My voice quivers as I confess, "I don't know how to do this." "I'm not sure how to behave the way you desire. I have no idea how to act as though nothing is wrong. I am unable to.

With a gentle yet firm tone, he interrupts, "You don't have to pretend." "I didn't ask you to."

But in actuality, he has. Since this arrangement was formed, he has wanted me to act out the scenario every single day. Even if we're not, he has wanted me to act as though everything is fine. And it's gradually wearing me down.

I mutter, more to myself than to him, "I'm not sure if I can continue doing this." In my personal life, I feel alienated. I feel as if I'm merely acting as though nothing is genuine. Not with you or anybody else.

Rogan stands there staring at me as there is a long pause. I'm not sure what he's thinking, but I feel like he's staring straight through me. And that's when I realized that I am actually a stranger in my own house. in my personal life. I have no idea who I am anymore, and I have no idea how to change it.

With a final sigh, Rogan walks away and toward the door. I can sense the weight of his retreat because of his tense posture and back. I need him to be the guy he used to be, so I want to stop him and implore him to stay. However, the words become lodged in my throat, entangled in a jumble of feelings that I am unable to unravel.

He says, "I'll see you at dinner," his voice once more icy, the warmth of a few seconds gone.

Then he's gone, without warning.

I feel disoriented as I stand in the middle of the room. Now the silence envelops me like a smothering blanket, silencing me. I feel like I'm stuck in a life I didn't choose, and the walls appear to be closing in on me. A life I never desired.

I've lost my sense of how to do this. I have no idea how to act.

I make my way to the window and gaze out at the city. The lights in the distance seem so far away, even though they are twinkling. Now everything seems so far.

The doorbell rings as I'm standing there by myself in a house that doesn't feel like home anymore.

I go cold. It's late. Nobody is ever this late.

I walk to the door with unsteady hands, my heart pounding in my chest. The last person I anticipated seeing was there when I opened it.

Aria.

Standing on the doorstep, she has a pale face and large eyes that seem to be filled with anxiety.

"Is it possible for us to speak?" Her question is hardly audible above a whisper.

I start to say something, but the words get stuck in my throat. What is this? What's going on?

She moves forward, her face tense with intensity, before I can respond.

Her voice quivers as she says, "There's something you need to know." It has to do with Rogan. He hasn't told you anything.