The Heart Thief

the heart thief - |31|

Millie

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           I sat at the kitchen table, running over menu ideas in an effort to do something productive. Since I was out of a job and currently not in the mood to work, I decided to give cooking a try. I called mum for recipes, and she happily obliged after hearing about it, even insisted on getting me to help her in her kitchen. I appreciated the thought, but even I knew there was no way she'd let me step into her kitchen and ruin her reputation. However, she was happy to provide the family recipes.

           I didn't sleep well last night. I haven't managed to sleep well in over a week. That was the same amount of time that I hadn't seen Roman. I didn't want to acknowledge the real reason I hadn't been able to get a good night sleep, but I couldn't deny that it was solely because of him. Roman had kept his distance, and though it was my own damn fault for pushing him away, I felt the loss of his affection and intimacy.

          Why did things have to turn out this way?

          I was about to open my fridge when he appeared, dressed in a sweater and loose pants, dark coat with a scarf around his neck. It was freezing outside, but he wasn't wearing gloves. He ran a hand over his hair, dusting off the snow.

           Roman peered at me with eyes that were vulnerable. Regret pushed through my middle, a thick ugly knot that had me pressing a hand to my stomach. I was the one who put those lines of strain at the corners of his mouth. It's because of me that his shoulders, usually straight and proud, now hung low.

           "The door was open." His voice crackled in the silence."

           I cleared the lump in my throat. "I must have forgotten to lock it."

           "Who forgets to lock doors?"

           "It didn't happen before."

           He made a noise in the back of his throat as he slowly approached. "It's dangerous to leave your door open."

           "This is a safe building," I told him with a swallow. "The tenants are nice people."

           Watching me with wary eyes, he took a seat. Thick thighs parted, elbows on his knees, Roman studied the kitchen as he began to speak in a voice like sandpaper. "I know you said you didn't want to see me."

           I licked my dry lips. "That's not what I said."

           "It's still the same thing." His voice broke and he tried again. "You broke up with me."

           "I can't break up with someone I never dated."

           His lips pinched, and I knew he was thinking of ways to deny that truth, but he couldn't because we never labeled what we had. "Yeah." He gave a nod, eyeing the menu in my hand. It was the faintest smile that appeared on his face that made me relax. "You're trying out cooking? What does your mum think?"

           I laughed a little, running my hand over the menu book. "She gave me her recipes."

           "It's cool that you're trying out something." His gaze drifted to my face. "Ask me how's work."

          I looked away, feeling unsettled with the topic because I still felt hurt over the company letting go of me. I busied myself with cleaning up, even though there was nothing to clean. "How's work?"

         It's the first time I saw the huge smile that took over his face, so effortlessly easy and cute that I stilled when I saw it, drawing out intense feelings out of me. I almost buckled over and fall to him. It was embarrassing how much I craved him more than I did when we were together.