Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝙄𝙄𝙄. BLINK AND IT'S BEEN FIVE YEARS
──────
HER HAIR WAS shorter than I remembered it being.
She was different; she was old. Or at least, she looked as though she'd aged. The emotional impact of what was happening was causing her to wither and wilt before my gaze.
Her eyes were wide, her mouth was agape and there was a whole host of different emotions playing out across her face. I couldn't quite pick out a significant expression, there were too many-- she'd always been like me, constantly feeling too much all at the same time. However, the difference between the two of us is that she had been more skilled at hiding it.
The tables had turned now. I fought to keep my face emotionless, I met her astounded gaze and kept my chin high.
I channelled my observations on how her arms fell to her sides, her lips slowly closed and her fingers tremored slightly as she began to think of a million things to say-- it was a Montgomery thing, a blessing and a curse. I could tell she was going through a rolodex of a million different apologies, struggling to figure out which one she should dust off and use for today.
But then there was the dilemma of the radio silence, four years of resentment and me ranting about her in therapy. Four years of Addison sat on the other side of the world, my absence reminding her of what she'd done.
That had been her punishment. I hadn't come here to fight. But I supposed that I hadn't exactly come here to make peace either.
My pep talk had considered forgiveness only fleetingly. It was a cursed topic. Again, I was never fond of forgive and forget- always a poster child for resent and remember, and Addison knew that very well.
I hoped that she wouldn't seek forgiveness because if she did, then I'd have to find it within myself to give it to her.
"Oh, Elizabeth."
Unsurprisingly, she sounded exhausted. Idly, I wondered whether she'd had any sleep since she'd reached Seattle-- or whether she'd had a good nights sleep in the last four years at all?
Did we haunt her? A little part of me hoped that I did.
"Addison."
I didn't sound as exhausted as I felt.
I sounded robotic, unattached, completely unaffected. I sounded different and that's when my gaze travelled.
I looked away from Addison, to the two men stood at her side.
At first, seeing Derek stood at her side inflicted a shock onto me; I selfishly saw it as a side that had been chosen, my brain initially choosing to interpret Derek as a traitor, despite the whole conversation we'd had beforehand. But, thankfully, after years of misuse, my little voice of common sense piped up, reminding me that this was about Archer, about my brother and not about bad blood between siblings- my shoulders relaxed after that silent revelation.
