I frown. What?
Why, what happened?
I got an email last night, I’ve finally found the artist that I’ve been searching for.
I smile. Oh my God. He found her.
Excitement fills me.
This is amazing!
No, it’s not.
She’s not an old lady as I thought, she’s young and beautiful.
Unattached.
I frown. What does that mean?
I read on.
I know who she is, I’ve seen her at auctions and have wanted to chase her before to ask her out. I’ve always felt like she was someone that I was supposed to meet.
I searched for her, even made my brothers follow her once.
And now to find that it was her paintings that have been calling me for so long . . .
I fear my fate has come to find me when I’ve finally found someone who makes me happy.
No.
Wait . . .
I read that last message again and my chest constricts.
What?
I put my head into my hands; this can’t be happening.
No.
You believe this woman, the artist, is your fate?
I don’t want to have regrets.
I can’t go forward with my life and always regret not going to her and finding out what may have been.
This woman has been in my heart long before anyone else.
The words blur as tears cloud my vision.
What about Kate?
I’m confused.
For the first time in my life, I’m happy with where I am, who I am with.
I feel complete, and yet . . . I can’t stop thinking that I have to go to her.
To see for myself if this is where I’m supposed to be.
Why now?
Why have I only found her now when I’ve been searching for her all along?
Why has fate been so cruel to deliver her to me when I care so much for someone else?
I sob out loud.
I’m going to lose him.
What should I do, Pinkie?
I slam my computer shut.
The lump is big in my throat and painful, and I angrily wipe my tears away.
This isn’t happening. Tell me this isn’t fucking happening.
I begin to pace, back and forth. What do I write back?
The worst part is, I already know what a friend would say.
A friend would tell him that he should go to her, that he should follow his gut feeling and find out if she’s the one he’s been searching for all along.
That he’s stupid if he ignores his heart, because it’s never wrong.
How could he ignore this sign and be with another?
But I love him.
My chest hurts and I sob out loud.
A deep sense of dread fills my every cell.
I walk into the bathroom and turn the hot water in the shower on, climb in, and cry.
It’s 3 a.m. I lie in the darkness.
A sense of dread is slowly pumping through my veins as if the hope is draining out, and I know that life isn’t fair sometimes.
Over the last month I’ve been happier than I’ve felt in years. Elliot brought me into his home, shared his farm animals, and showed me what it felt like to be truly cared for. He introduced me to his family and for the first time in a long time, I felt included, as if I were one of them.
The thought of not seeing his family again is another dagger to the heart.
Elizabeth.
I know that I’m standing on the precipice of heartache, and I can’t even begin to understand the depths of the darkness that await me if he goes.
I love him.
Maybe more than I love myself, because his happiness is what I want above all else.
I want him fulfilled, and what good is he to me if his heart is with her? I get a painful lump in my throat because, deep down, I know the truth.
It was always with her.
Oh . . . This hurts.
The worst part is, I can’t even tell him that I know.
This stupid fucking game of online chatting we play . . . has come back to haunt me.
This is what you get for lying to someone, Kate.
I deserve everything I’m getting and then some.
I’ve deceived Elliot for weeks, and I knew it was wrong and I was going to tell him, but the right time never came around.
I thought it was harmless, I now know it’s not.
With a shaky breath I get up and open my computer. I write to Ed.
You should follow your heart Ed.
A message bounces straight back. Why is he still awake?
I don’t want to hurt Kate.
I screw up my face in tears. Too late.
The computer screen is blurred.
It’s your heart that you have to live with, follow it.
Kate would want you to be happy.
She loves you.
Xoxo
Hello darkness, my old friend.
It’s been a while since you graced me with your presence, I can’t say that I’ve missed you.
I sit at my desk and stare out the window. It’s 3 p.m. and I haven’t heard from Elliot.
I don’t expect to.
A million emotions have run through me: sadness, regret, anger . . . but mostly disappointment.