Secrets Aren't Meant to be Kept

A Possible Reconciliation (2/3): Willow and Victor

A Possible Reconciliation (2/3): Willow and Victor

Victor watched as the movers in khaki color uniforms traveled back and forward between the moving truck and Willow's house.

Well, her fake house with fake memories.

He had been watching those memories play out inside his head while he sat inside his car for the last thirty minutes, trying to gather the courage to get out.

He had received a text message from Willow asking him to talk with her before she moved out of her house. That was almost a week ago. He left her on read.

Instead, he would drive to her house every day and stare at it, hoping to get a glimpse of her.

He sighed. He knew that he should get over her. He should put a stop to all of the feelings that he felt for her. However, he couldn't easily forget her. Nor, could he forget another fact.

She had played him like a fool.

She had pretended to be someone that loved and cared for him. And he fell for it.

Hard.

He had fallen in love with the woman of his dream, only to find out that she was just that: a dream. A dream that was full of good times, warm laughter, incredible dates, passionate kisses, and constant lies.

The lies.

He gripped the steering wheel as fury flooded his system. Each day that he came to her house, going down memory lane, he reflected on each moment, wondering how he didn't see the truth.

Even to this second, he still couldn't figure it out. However, he knew one thing was true: he still loved her. He hated himself for it.

A tap on the window of the car passenger side brought him out of his memories.

He turned to see the object of his pain beaming at him within the frame of the window. His heart stopped. How could someone that you hate still control the beating of your heart?

Reluctantly, he wound down the window. It was no point in ignoring her now that she saw him.

"Hey," she said, "The taxi that I called hasn't arrived yet, and my uber app isn't working for some reason. Do you mind giving me a lift somewhere? If not, I can try to call another taxi."

"What happened to your car?"

"It was part of my contract with the FBI. They already took it back."

He clenched the wheel even tighter. After days of not seeing him, the first words out of her mouth was to ask for a favor. The worst part of it was that they both knew he was going to do it.

Also, given the recent news about kidnappings related to taxi cabs, they knew that he wouldn't let her take one.

.

"Fine," he said, regretting the word that came out of his mouth. "But you have to sit in the back since this is a courtesy ride."

"Thank you," she said with a smile that he started to hate. It was like she knew the reason why he didn't want her sitting next to him. He would reach out and touch her if she was too close.

She got in the car. He waited for her to buckle up and give him an address before he drove off.

They rode in silence. It was suffocating. He stole glances of her from the rearview mirror. The view of her looking out the window was killing him. She was smiling with content as if she hadn't thrown his world out of orbit.

"I was just passing by your neighborhood to check out a call." He felt the need to explain a lie and to end the silence. "It turned out to be a false report."