CHAPTER 22

 

So sorry about the delay... my life's been a bit of a rollercoaster lately. I think I'll try to wrap up the story soon. Thank you for your support. 

Chapter 22

 

At 3 a.m., Lisa zipped up her suitcase with a forceful tug, the sound slicing through the otherwise silent hotel suite. Her movements were automatic, mechanical, as if her body was on autopilot while her mind churned with restless frustration.

She walked across to the spacious bedroom, scooping up the last stray items like her phone charger from the bedside table, the paperback novel she hadn’t even touched and her passport lying forgotten on the desk.

The room, with its modern furnishings and cold, impersonal luxury, felt like a cruel joke after the three exhausting days she had spent in Bahrain, the place and the entire stay making her feel hollow, angry, and bone-deep tired.

Setting her suitcase near the large, leather sofa, she then walked into the bathroom and watched as the mirror over the marble sink reflected her haggard expression. Lisa brushed her hair, though the effort felt futile because no matter how great the hairstyle was, nothing could erase the exhaustion written all over her face.

Her makeup, applied with care just hours ago, now looked faded and smudged and she considered reapplying it but gave up halfway, leaning heavily on the counter instead, staring at her reflection.

Lisa’s three days in Bahrain had been an absolute trainwreck. She landed exhausted, already half out of it from jet lag, only to spend hours trying to track down Michael, hitting brick wall after brick wall because nobody would spill a word.

On top of that, she came down with a sore throat and a low-grade fever, probably from the freezing plane AC, so she felt even more miserable than she normally would after such a journey. She had come here hoping to sort things out with Michael, maybe fix what was broken, but however she had imagined it playing out, this was so far off the mark it wasn’t even funny…

The knock on the door startled her, jolting her out of her thoughts.

“Just a second!” She called out, her voice cracking slightly from disuse and she cleared her throat and straightened up.

Had to be the hotel staff, she thought, probably coming to let her know the car she had booked for 3:30 was already waiting and to help with her luggage. Not that she needed help. She was more than capable of hauling it all herself, just like she had hauled herself halfway across the world for… well, for what, exactly?

Lisa padded back into the main room and glanced at the clock on the wall … it was only 3:10.

It was a bit early but she grabbed her phone with a shrug anyway, stifling a yawn and rolling her stiff shoulders as she ambled toward the door and pulled it open.

She froze and her breath hitched audibly as she stared at the man standing on the other side.

Michael.

He looked like a ghost of himself. His dark jeans hung a little looser than she remembered, and his plain white T-shirt, under a black jacket, did nothing to disguise how much weight he had lost. His face was thinner, his cheekbones more pronounced, giving him a sharp, almost feral appearance and yet, somehow, it was the sunglasses he now wore in the dead of night, that unnerved her the most.

“Michael…” She barely managed to whisper but he didn’t acknowledge her shock. Without so much as a hello, he walked into the room, his shoulder brushing hers as he passed and Lisa stumbled back a bit, stunned, watching as he paced the room like a caged animal.

“What…what are you doing here?” She finally managed, her voice shaky but edged with disbelief.

“Me?” He spun around, his tone biting. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting on my car to take me to the airport.” She snapped, crossing her arms defensively and Michael stopped pacing and turned to face her fully, his brow furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line.

It was then that she really saw him and how different he looked and it scared her because this Bahrain version of him was a shadow of the man she had last seen at the Hideout.

Her gaze moved to the sunglasses still perched on his face, and she tilted her head, frowning.

“Why are you wearing those? It’s the middle of the night.”

He ignored the question and took a slow, deliberate step closer. His voice was low, laced with annoyance.

“Don’t deflect. Why are you here, Lisa?”

She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, suddenly hyperaware of the tension crackling between them as his presence filled the room, making it hard to breathe. He was angry, furious even, and it seemed like he wasn’t there for a friendly reunion.

“I felt like taking a vacation.” Lisa said with a nonchalant shrug, hedging, trying to deflect some more and Michael scoffed, his laugh humorless.

“Oh, yeah? Why here, though? I hear Iowa’s just precious this time of year.”

“Stop it.” She said, her voice firm as her jaw tightened, anger flaring in her chest. “This is so low, and so unnecessary.”

“Whatever.” He muttered, turning away, but his agitation was palpable.

They stood there for a moment, two fighters in a ring, circling each other, sizing each other up and Lisa felt her heart racing and her mind spinning.

How had it come to this? This was Michael, her Michael, the man she had once loved with every fiber of her being, the man who had been her partner, her confidant, her everything. And now? Now, once again, they were just some angry strangers, locked in some godforsaken room in the middle of a desert country neither of them belonged in.

She exhaled slowly, letting her body language do the talking. She wasn’t engaging anymore. She wasn’t going to argue and Michael seemed to notice, of course, his sharp eyes clearly catching the subtle shift. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and broke the silence as she walked over to the table and put her passport into her purse.

“What are you doing, Lisa?”

“What do you think?” She shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “The vacation’s over. Time to go home. It was a blast, though. You have no idea.”

He flinched at her tone but said nothing as she then grabbed the handle of her suitcase and rolled it toward the table.

“Almost twenty hours on a plane to enjoy an empty hotel room, a lobby, then another lobby, two or three dead-end phone calls, and a harsh reality slap in the face.” She snatched her purse and slung it over her shoulder, her movements sharp and decisive.

Lisa had spent nearly twenty agonizing hours on the plane, most of the time spent by reading and re-reading Michael’s letter… She had read those words so many times they seemed seared into her memory, convinced that she needed to see him, no matter what it took.

The moment she stepped off the plane, she hailed a cab and collapsed into the backseat, barking out the name of the hotel she had booked the day before. She barely noticed the blur of the city lights or the modern skyline of Bahrain, her thoughts were elsewhere, tangled and relentless. At her hotel, she rushed through check-in, all polite smiles and distant nods, before bolting upstairs.

She dropped her bags unceremoniously and headed straight for the shower, the scalding water washing away the grime and smell of travel but doing little to ease the knots of tension in her body. Afterward, she blow-dried her hair, applied a light layer of makeup, and slipped into a simple, yet flattering dress. If she was going to do this, she might as well look presentable.

Another cab ride took her to the hotel Michael was rumored to be staying at. It was the only shred of information she had managed to dig up, courtesy of a mutual friend whose reluctance to spill the beans had been obvious. She stepped out of the cab and into the grand lobby, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure everyone could hear it.

Lisa knew better not to approach the front desk, that would be completely useless. Michael was a master at hiding and at avoiding people he didn’t want to see, not just because he wanted to but also because he just had to, and she had no doubt he had booked an entire floor off-limits to the public.

She had to play her cards right…

She scanned the large lobby, her eyes searching for someone who would fit the profile of Michael’s security team … tall, broad, dressed in black, maybe a little too conspicuous for their own good.

And then, she spotted him. Big, muscular guy dressed in black and… Hmm, sunglasses indoors, at dusk? That sealed it. Bingo.

Lisa straightened her shoulders, smoothed the front of her dress, and strode toward him, trying to exude a confidence she didn’t really feel. As she approached, she cleared her throat, and when he turned to her, she fixed him with a firm stare.

“Hi. I’m here to talk to Michael.” She said, her voice steady, though a part of her wasn’t hundred percent sure she had the right guy. For all she knew, that dude might have just been some random person standing there, and she was making a complete fool of herself.

And for a minute the man’s face remained impassive, but his silence actually spoke volumes. He did work for Michael. She could tell.

“I need to talk to him.” She pressed, not missing a beat. “It’s urgent. Can you please take me to him or at least tell me where he is? If he’s still rehearsing or…” She trailed off, trying not to sound desperate.

The man gave her a slow once-over, his expression unreadable.

“Name?” He grumbled.

She swallowed hard, but didn’t waver. “Lisa Marie Presley.” She said, her chin lifting. “His ex-wife.”

His reaction was subtle but unmistakable, a flicker of recognition, a shift in his stance and he muttered something under his breath as he told her to wait before he stepped aside to make a call. Lisa watched as he spoke in low tones, her heart thudding as she tried to catch fragments of the conversation.

When he returned though, his expression was cold and indifferent.

“Madam, my boss is busy and not interested in seeing you. I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

The words hit her like a slap. She stared at him, uncomprehending.

“Excuse me?” She managed, her voice cracking slightly.

“You heard me.”

Lisa’s chest tightened with a mix of frustration and disbelief. She had come all this way, poured every ounce of her resolve into finding him, and now this? No, she wasn’t about to back down, not after everything.

“I’m not leaving.” She said, crossing her arms. “I’ll wait. Right here, if I have to. I don’t think your boss would appreciate the scene that’s about to happen if you don’t let me talk to him.”

“Ma’am, this is private property.” He said and his jaw tightened visibly, his patience clearly wearing thin. “If you don’t leave, I’ll have to call the cops.”

“Go ahead!” She shot back, her voice rising. “Call them. Let’s see how Michael feels about that kind of circus I’m about to pull at his doorstep.”

She was bluffing, of course. She had nothing in her back pocket, no real plan to back up her words and the idea of causing a scene made her stomach twist with dread. How would it even go? If Michael didn’t want to see her, what was there left to do? She would make a fool of herself and then leave, feeling even more insignificant than before, or worse, they would throw her in jail for disorderly conduct or something.

She really hoped the bodyguard didn’t notice the uncertainty creeping into her tone or the doubt flickering in her eyes knowing she had to keep up the act, make it look like she wasn’t wavering, even though inside, she was already half-defeated.

But before he could even respond to her ridiculous threat, a second man approached, cut from the same mold … tall, broad and actually pretty intimidating. They exchanged a few words before the second bodyguard turned to Lisa, his tone no less curt.

“You need to go.”

Lisa was about to fire back with another sharp remark when she noticed that both men suddenly glanced toward the large windows overlooking the hotel’s entrance and she followed their gaze, her heart skipping a beat.

A sleek black SUV was pulling up to the front of the hotel, its tinted windows hiding everything inside and her breath caught in her throat.

It was him.

She instinctively moved to head toward the door, but one of the men stepped in front of her, his hand gripping her arm - not necessarily painfully, but firmly enough to make his point, while the other one ran quickly through the lobby toward the door.

“You stay here.” He said, his voice low and forceful.

“Are you out of your mind?” Lisa’s blood boiled. Some random goon was not going to dictate her what to do and what not!

She tried to shake him off, but he held his ground.

“Let me go!” She hissed, glaring up at him. “I swear, if you don’t let go right now, I’ll make a scene you’ll never forget.”

The man hesitated, clearly weighing his options, before releasing her with a muttered curse, but it was too late, anyway. As Lisa turned toward the entrance again, she saw the other man talking to someone in the SUV and seconds later, the car pulled away, its taillights disappearing into the dimming evening.

“No!” She gasped, her hands clenching into fists. “No, no, no…”

She stood there, helpless, watching the car vanish while her chest heaved as anger and heartbreak collided in a dizzying wave. She spun toward the man who had stopped her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Do you have any idea…”

But he was already walking away, ignoring her as if she didn’t exist.

Defeated and gutted, Lisa returned to her hotel, her steps heavy and her mind racing. She barely slept that night, replaying the humiliating scene over and over and by morning, with her throat scratchy and her head throbbing, she decided she needed a new plan.

She shifted gears and zeroed in on his producer and after some digging, she managed to find out some names behind the project. It took a couple of calls and a favor pulled here and there but she eventually scored a number or two.

The first call rang a few times before someone picked up and Lisa introduced herself, trying to keep her tone polite, firm and very confident, asking if she could speak with Michael.

There was a brief pause before the person on the other end, sharp and impatient, simply replied, “Michael’s busy,” and hung up without another word.

Stunned, but not ready to give up, Lisa tried calling again but this time, the call didn’t even go through and her chest tightened as realization sank in: she had been actually blocked…

The gall of those people!!

She spent the rest of the day chasing dead ends, desperately trying to find a way to reach him but every door was slammed in her face and by evening, she had run out of options… and hope.

And then on the third day, Lisa finally gave up. As she packed her suitcase and prepared to leave Bahrain, a bitter realization settled over her. She was in the same country as Michael, on the same small island, yet he might as well have been a million miles away and the result would be the same anyway…

 

Lisa blinked, jolted out of her racing thoughts by Michael’s sharp tone. He still stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his face etched with equal parts fury and confusion while his question lingered in the air like smoke, curling around her, demanding an answer.

“I’m asking you why you’re here, Lisa Marie. Answer me.” He repeated, his voice cutting through the room like a blade and she opened her mouth to respond but hesitated. For a second, the words sat heavy on her tongue, too loaded to let loose but then her frustration surged, breaking her restraint all the way.

“What do you think, Michael?” She snapped, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “I wanted to talk to you, you dumbass!

Her tone was biting and if anything, her words seemed to land wrong, making his frown deepen. The near-endearing term she had thrown in seemed to bounce right off him, ricocheting back with unintended consequences. She watched his jaw clench and the muscle just above his temple twitch.

“Talk to me?” He echoed, the disbelief in his voice evident. “Did you bring your boyfriend with you? Is that it? Got some happy news to spring on me?”

Lisa’s eyes narrowed, her breath catching in her chest.

“Shut up, Michael.” She hissed, the anger bubbling up before she could stop it. “I can’t believe you’d actually buy into that trash.”

“Trash?” He scoffed, his lips curling into a humorless smirk. “I saw the photos, Lisa and trust me, I really didn’t need to see more.”

“Oh, I saw some photos too!” She fired back, taking a step toward him before she jabbed a finger in the air, her voice rising. “You replaced me with that botoxed, plastic Middle Eastern Barbie? Real smooth, man. Real mature.”

“Lisa, Lisa…” He drawled, his voice laced with mockery as he clicked his tongue. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you at all.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.

“Right back at ya.”

The words hung there, suspended in the thick tension between them and for a moment, neither of them moved, their breathing loud in the oppressive silence. Michael eventually broke the standoff, turning on his heel and walking toward the window and then he stood there, his back to her, one hand resting on the sill as he stared out into the night. His silhouette, framed by the dim light outside, looked almost fragile, and it made something inside her twist painfully.

Lisa watched him, her chest heaving as the anger in her ebbed and flowed. She felt like a bottle shaken too hard, moments away from bursting, wanting to scream, to cry, to storm out, but her feet wouldn’t move.

Then, a knock at the door shattered the moment, pulling them both back to reality and Michael turned his head slightly, looking at her over his shoulder, but said nothing.

“That’s for me.” Lisa said, her voice sharper than she intended before she moved to grab her suitcase, pulling out the handle with a sharp click. “Got a plane to catch.”

She started walking, her movements jerky, every step fueled by sheer determination… She was done with this, with him, with everything. There was no point in trying to save whatever had become of their relationship. The letter he had sent her had been a fleeting hope, a moment of weakness, but now it was just another relic of a time that had passed. Too much water had flowed under the bridge in the weeks it took for the letter to make its way across the world and in that time, everything seemed to have changed. What was left between them now felt like nothing more than a hollow echo of something that had once mattered…

But as she reached for the doorknob, she heard Michael’s voice, low and firm behind her.

“Wait.”

She didn’t stop though, didn’t even turn around, yet before she could take another step, Michael crossed the room in a flash and he reached the door before her, swinging it open with an ease that almost startled her. Standing in the doorway was a young, pimply bellboy, his wide eyes darting between them as he stammered something unintelligible.

“Apologies.” Michael said smoothly, his voice taking on that charming tone he could summon at will. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a few folded banknotes, which he handed to the boy with a disarming smile. “Please cancel the car. She’s not leaving yet.”

The boy hesitated, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, before nodding and scurrying away and Michael shut the door with a quiet click before turning to face her.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lisa exploded, her voice rising. “Are you out of your mind? I need to get to the airport!”

Michael walked toward her slowly, his face unreadable.

“Do you?” He asked, his voice quiet but firm. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you came all this way to talk to me. So talk, Lisa.”

He reached for her suitcase, his fingers brushing against hers as he took the handle from her grasp and the touch sent a jolt through her making her instinctively pull back, but it was too late. A shiver ran down her spine, and she hated herself for it. Hated the way her body betrayed her, the way her chest tightened and her knees felt weak.

“Michael, let me go.” She said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. “I wanted to talk yesterday and the day before. Today? Not so much.”

But he wasn’t listening. This time, when he stepped closer, he didn’t stop. He grabbed her arms, his grip firm but not painful, and held her in place.

“We will talk. Right… now.”

Lisa’s heart was pounding now, the proximity, the tension between them, almost suffocating. She tried to twist free, but his hands stayed where they were, holding her steady, anchoring her in a storm of emotions she couldn’t name.

“Let me go.” She repeated, her voice cracking this time.

“Not until you stop running. Not until we figure this out.”

“Figure what out?” She asked, her voice barely a whisper while her chest heaved, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She felt like she was drowning, like the air in the room had been sucked out. “There doesn’t seem to be anything left to figure out, Michael. You told your bodyguards you didn’t want to see me. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?! Being turned away like some nobody? After everything we’ve been through? I thought I at least deserved a conversation, some basic respect, but no, you just… shut me out. What a joke.”

His grip on her loosened, but he didn’t step back.

“You’re not the only one who’s been hurt here, Lisa.” He said softly, his words barely audible.

Then Michael stepped back and she saw him biting his lip before he casually walked over to the mini-fridge like he had all the time in the world. He opened it with a lazy motion, grabbing a bottle of water without a second thought and when he straightened up, he glanced at her, just for a second, like he was asking if she wanted one too.

It wasn’t a question he had to ask out loud, it was something they had done a thousand times before, that silent back-and-forth, and Lisa just shook her head, pressing her lips together. She didn’t want anything.

Instead she flopped onto the couch with a tired sigh, her arms crossed over her chest as if she was already bracing for whatever came next, even though she wasn’t sure she was ready for it.

She saw Michael shrug and unscrew the cap, taking a slow, deliberate gulp, the silence in the room growing thicker with each passing second. Finally, he meandered over to the couch and dropped down next to her, though he kept enough distance to make the space between them feel like a chasm. He leaned forward to set the bottle on the coffee table, his movements unhurried and casual.

“So?” His voice was calm, but there was an edge beneath it, a faint rasp of impatience that she couldn’t miss and Lisa narrowed her eyes at him, feeling almost irritated by his nonchalance.

“Do you think you could take off those damn sunglasses while talking to me, Michael?”

The dark lenses, paired with his distant demeanor, made him feel like a stranger, like someone she couldn’t reach no matter how much she tried and Michael tilted his head as if considering her request, before she heard him sigh. With deliberate slowness, he slid the sunglasses off and placed them next to the water bottle on the table.

Lisa looked up and bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to react. His eyes, once sharp and full of fire, were rimmed with dark circles so heavy they almost looked like bruises and they were bloodshot and glassy, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. She hadn’t been prepared for the rush of concern that hit.

Her gaze lingered too long, and Michael seemed to notice. He turned away abruptly, clearing his throat, his jaw tightening.

“So?” He asked again, his voice flat. “What did you want to talk about, Lisa Marie?”

Lisa’s hands fidgeted in her lap, and she forced out a humorless laugh.

“Oh, you know, the yoozh... weather, world peace, groundbreaking cancer research.” She said, rolling her eyes, her sarcasm used as a shield, though she could clearly feel it cracking under the weight of the moment. “I wanted to talk about us, Michael. Duh.”

His expression didn’t change. He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink, didn’t smile, nothing.

“Then talk.”

His eyes were studying her and Lisa’s breath hitched, her carefully rehearsed speech crumbling under his detached gaze.

“I read your letter.” She said softly and his brow furrowed slightly.

“Oh, okay.”

“I...” She paused, swallowing hard. “It just hit me in a lot of ways, Michael. I couldn’t just... not come. I needed to see you.”

“Yeah, well…” He said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “That was all before…”

“Gosh, I know, Michael!” She quickly cut him off, her voice rising. “I know it was before the photos! Before the mess!! But those photos were just blown out of proportion, they didn’t mean anything, okay?! And also, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“For all I know, you just got bored with him and thought you needed something new again. It's like that with you, right? You get tired of one thing and move on to the next, no warning, no looking back. So just tell me… who do you really want, Lisa? Me or him? Because, honestly, I’m done with all the guessing and back-and-forth. I’m not gonna hang around while you play these stupid games, flipping a coin every time you get bored.”

His jab hung in the air like a grenade with its pin pulled, and Lisa’s stomach churned but instead of responding to his insults, she took a deep breath…

“What do you think?” She asked, her voice trembling but steady enough to meet his challenge.

It was a low blow, hitting her like that, and they both knew it. Classic Michael, going for the jugular when he felt cornered but she recognized the tactic too well, the way he would deflect his own vulnerability by throwing barbs that cut deep.

This time, however, she wasn’t going to bite. No, she would stay calm, or at least she hoped she could.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“What about you?” She countered, her tone more defensive now. “Who do you want? Because those photos of you and... her... looked pretty serious.”

“At least I wasn’t almost licking ice cream off someone’s cleavage!”

“Oh my god! That day in the park was taken completely out of context!” She let out, her voice desperate. “Matt and I were celebrating! The doctors gave him good news about his condition and he wanted to celebrate with ice cream, that’s all. Michael, you of all people should know how much the tabloids lie! How can you believe those rags??”

His silence was way worse than his words and she watched him lean back again, his gaze boring into hers, unreadable but heavy enough to make her squirm. The room felt suddenly too small and the air too thick.

“I’m sorry the photos hurt you… but I promise you nothing happened. And... and I’m sorry about the voicemail, too.” She added, her voice breaking slightly. “I was falling apart, overthinking everything and I really felt like I’d failed you, Michael. That’s why I said what I said. That… that you’d be better off without me. I’m really sorry. So fucking sorry.”

His gaze softened, but only a fraction.

“Do you still think that?”

“In a way, yeah…” She admitted, her words barely audible. “Let’s be real here, I mess up left and right. It’s like… like everything I touch gets complicated or breaks apart and you know how I second-guess everything, Michael. Every choice, every word… I feel like I’m stuck in this loop of screwing up, and… I don’t know. I’ve always just wanted what’s best for you. You deserve it. You deserve to be with someone who doesn’t fuck up like I do.”

“What does that even mean, Lisa?” Michael snapped, his voice rising again. “I hate when you talk in circles like that. Just say it. If you’re done with me, fine. Say it and leave … for real this time.”

Her eyes started burning for some reason, and before she could stop herself, the tears spilled over. She wiped at them furiously, but they kept coming, hot and unrelenting, a clear testimony to her incredible physical and mental exhaustion... It was all too much.

Her shoulders shook as the sobs came, ugly and raw and Lisa pressed her hands to her face, trying to stifle the sounds, but it was useless. Tears streamed down her cheeks, soaking her palms, and she gasped for air between those loud sobs desperately.

Through the blur of her tears, she saw him, though. He was sitting there, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read… somewhere between frustration and something softer but he didn’t move. He didn’t reach out. He just sat there, his hands clasped in front of him, looking as lost as she felt.

She wanted to stop crying, to claw back the last shred of dignity she had left, but it just seemed impossible. Everything, from the long flight and the sleepless nights to the hopelessness of this entire situation, was finally crashing over her like a tidal wave while Michael… just… sat… there.

Watching.

Waiting.

Hesitating.

His arms stayed glued to his sides, his posture stiff, as if he was afraid to touch her, afraid to even breathe too loud and Lisa hated it. She hated him in that moment for being so distant, so untouchable. The man she once knew would have pulled her into his arms without hesitation and told her to knock it off. He would have tried to soothe her, calling her a nutjob for crying like that, making some stupid joke to break the tension. He would have teased her mercilessly until she laughed despite herself, until the crushing weight on her shoulders lifted, even if just a little.

But that man felt like a memory now, someone who had vanished the moment they unraveled. The man she once loved, still loved, damn it, would have whispered soft reassurances into her hair until the world made sense again.

But that man wasn’t in the room anymore…

“I’m so… sorry.” She managed to choke out between sobs, her voice trembling as tears streamed down her face. “For… for everything. For all of it. I fucked up everything.” She swiped at her cheeks, her hands shaking, and looked up at him. “I… I still love you, Michael. So fucking much it makes me h… hate myself for h… how badly I’ve s… screw… screwed this up.”

Michael’s expression didn’t change right away, and that split second of stillness was enough to twist Lisa’s stomach into tight, painful knots. She wanted him to say something, anything, but he just stared at her before he slowly, almost painfully swallowed, the muscles in his throat working as he seemed to gather himself.

“I wish that was enough, Lisa.” He said finally, his voice low and rough, as though the words physically hurt to say and her heart felt like it stopped mid-beat. She stared at him, her wet lashes blinking rapidly in disbelief.

“What?”

Michael shifted uncomfortably, breaking eye contact to look down at his hands before he reached for his sunglasses on the table, fiddling with them as his movements slowed, deliberate, like he was trying to contain something volatile.

“You shouldn’t have come…” He said quietly, still not meeting her eyes. “You’ve only made this harder.”

The room spun and for a second, Lisa thought she might actually pass out. Her chest tightened painfully, and she stood up so abruptly that the coffee table rattled. She couldn’t sit still. She couldn’t breathe. Her legs carried her in aimless circles as she tried to process what the hell he had just said.

“Are y… you s… serious?” She asked, her voice shaking like crazy but Michael stayed quiet. When he finally looked up at her, his gaze was steady but unbearably sad and then, with a small nod, he confirmed her worst fear.

Lisa doubled over slightly, clutching her stomach as if she was trying to hold herself together, but it didn’t work. A fresh wave of sobs tore through her, and she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes to keep the tears from spilling over.

“Jesus Christ.” She muttered, her voice muffled by her hands but Michael said nothing. She could hear him shifting on the couch behind her, the sound of his heavy sigh filling the room.

In her wildest dreams she had never thought this moment would come and for some reason her mind had always kept assuring her they could work their problems out.

And then his phone rang, the sharp, electronic sound making her flinch. She kept her back turned to him, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, as she listened to him answer.

“Yes?” His voice was gruff, somehow impatient. There was a small pause, and then he spoke again. “Really? Okay, I’m on my way.”

He hung up without saying goodbye and for some reason the finality of the gesture sent a chill down Lisa’s spine.

“Lisa.” He said softly and she heard him stand up. She didn’t turn around, though, instead, she stared out the window at the faint glow of sunrise on the horizon. The sky was painted with delicate streaks of pink and orange, so beautiful it made her chest ache even more. “I’ve gotta go. Prince’s running a fever. I need to get back.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry I made you miss your flight.” Michael continued a long minute later, his tone somewhat strained. “I’ll have my assistant book you on the next one, first thing, okay?”

Lisa bit her lip so hard she tasted blood while her vision blurred as fresh tears spilled over, hot and relentless. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

She finally turned to look at him while Michael stood a few feet away, his posture awkward, like he didn’t know whether to reach for her or keep his distance.

“Who… who are you?” She asked hoarsely, her voice trembling. “I thought I came h… here to fix… to fix things, Michael. I thought we… we could make this r… right. But… but this? This is…” She couldn’t finish the sentence as she watched him shift uncomfortably, his hands shoved into his pockets. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating, until he finally cleared his throat.

“Um, safe travels, Lisa. Take care of yourself."

The words hit her like a physical blow. She watched, frozen, as he turned and walked toward the door. He seemed to hesitate for the briefest of moments, his hand on the knob, before he pulled it open and stepped out into the hall…