Dahlia Wellburg hates her misery as much as she loves it. She sees herself as a stone: ordinary and unwanted. Yet, they know her to be a rose: soft, but with thorns.
. . .
Mature Content. Check the tags.
"It took many years of vomiting up all the filth I'd been taught about myself, and half-believed, before I was able to walk on this earth as though I had a right to be here."
- James Baldwin
. . .
Dahlia
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I watched as Evan exited the coffee shop, his face split into a grin as he looked at me. He was dressed in a suit and was glowly. He looked handsome, I realised. But not as much as...
I shook my head.
"Dahlia!"
"Hey," I said, pushing myself off my car. I walked towards him, my blue dress fluttering in the breeze. The sun was harsh today, and I had forgotten my sunglasses at home.
I shielded my eyes with my hand. "What do you want?" I asked him. "Why did you call me here?"
"I needed someone to talk to," he said.
I laughed. "And you decided it should be me? I don't know if I should be mad at you or pity you."
He chuckled, taking off his sunglasses. His pretty eyes looked down at me, and for a second my world was calm. Till the memories came back, of course. "Just one coffee with me, Dahlia. Half an hour. As much as you don't like it when I mention it, you are a wonderful listener."
I walked into the cafe with him, wondering if this meeting was going to end in tears and anger. It probably was.
I was just a bit of a fool when it came to matters of the heart.
"What is it?"
He sipped his coffee, sitting across from me. The sunlight danced in his hair. "I miss you, Dahlia."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "The marriage is a joke, and you know that."
"Do I? It's certainly not a funny one." I sipped my coffee, ready to get it over with. It burned my tongue. I focused on the burn.
"Don't act like that," he said. "You miss me, I miss you. I talked to her, she said she has no problem with an open marriage." He took my hand in his. His eyes were gentle and for a second I was a stupid teenager.
"We can have fun," he said. "Like we used to. She won't bother us, Dahlia."
I looked at his bigger hand holding mine. His hand was soft and without scars, unlike the Kozlov and the Monet. They were rugged men, the suits they wore seemed to be a disguise rather than just clothing.
"How..." I sighed. "Fun, is that what you think I want?" I asked quietly. "I wanted the world with you, Evan."
His smile flickered. "Why don't we take what we can?"
"What you can," I said. "You're the one who is tied here, not me. I can have the world, with someone who won't marry someone else just because their daddy said so." I took my hand away.
