What's Left of Our Hearts

Before and After You

Dominic couldn't untangle the sorrow from the rage, nausea from the sadness, and began choking up. He refused to believe it, but there she was: happy in the arms of another man. Right there and then, Dominic Cole felt capable of murder. 

He took in the pressed shirt and polished loafers, the strong jaw and shapely muscles of his rival—was this man even his rival? Of course not. Dom was out of the picture, obviously. Besides, he could see why she was with him. This man looked like he'd stepped out of a women's Dream Bachelors catalog, and judging by the way he spoke about Clara, he was head-over-heels for her. Dom could hear the sutures on his heart tearing.

All those years he had spent hungering for her, trying to find her in the eyes of other women who couldn't measure up to her inner beauty, all those days when he hit rock bottom and let himself become the definition of walking sin, they all felt bitter in his dry throat now. He felt as if the debauchery, the endless wondering without a direction, the drinking and the drugs, all of it had somehow made him unworthy of her. He had hit rock bottom and kept drilling down, and he was far from proud of it. He had gotten himself back on track since, but those were long three years of his life spent searching for a sliver of light that would help him recognize his own reflection in the mirror.

He could remember a time when he was truly happy, and truly the best man he could be, and that time was with Clara. It was she who made him want to be the best version of himself. His beautiful Clara. She had not changed so much, he observed. She wore her golden locks a little shorter, a little lighter, wavy and free, and she still took his breath away.

He frantically searched for words, something to say to her, anything, but his mouth was parched and his lips would only quiver. He didn't trust himself to speak. After spending so much time trying to erase the feelings, hurting inside until he finally went completely numb, the crushing realization of how much he wanted to see her again was like swimming against the tide. He'd spent his years separating his life before and after her. He couldn't bring time back, and he couldn't bring her back.

Clara could not forgive him for what he'd done, but she couldn't forgive herself for not even trying. Seeing him now was opening old wounds fast, and before she knew it she was gasping for air, silently, almost imperceptibly. It was something that no one—except probably he—could notice. He passed by her so close, she could nearly touch him. The distance between them could be closed in mere seconds and his lips could be on hers in less time than it took to speak his name.

Dom felt the electricity in the air between them like it was a physical presence, so powerful his skin tingled. He almost took her hand in his, the way he used to do. He tried to recall the silky feel of her skin. He wondered if her hand still fit perfectly into his. He could have stopped, turned to face her, and say, time and the world can wait, let's be us again. Give me a chance to make things right. But he wasn't strong enough for another heartbreak, because this time he knew, just as he knew she was his soul mate, that it wouldn't just shatter his heart, this time it would entirely wipe out whatever was left of him. With one last heart-wrenching look, with the very last ounce of his will, Dominic did something he'd never be strong enough to do again. He looked away, and kept walking.

After all this time...

He had to let her go.

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