She didn’t know what had happened. It took barely a minute for something to suddenly click. There was something, something about this episode that stirred her memory. She remembered sitting on a sofa with Aidan, watching it. She couldn’t remember anything else.
Ten minutes in, another flash. He was drinking. He was laughing. She was happy.
Seventeen minutes in. Everything changed. This scene, something about this scene. Amber closed her eyes tightly, digging and digging to figure out what significance it had. Finally, a rush of thoughts came over her. A pub, hot chocolate, piles of books, Aidan’s coffee, his bed, the bathroom floor, his lips against her neck, the car, the feeling of her broken body on the cold pavement. They were flatmates. They weren’t dating at all. It felt like her breath had been sucked out of her lungs, and she began gasping.
“Amber? Amber, are you all right?” Aidan asked, panicked.
“Get out,” she said firmly.
“What?” Aidan replied, shocked.
“Get out. Get out now.”
“What do you mean? What are you talking about, sweetheart?”
“I remember,” she said coldly, tears beginning to well up, “Get. Out.”
It hit Aidan like a tidal wave. He messed up. He really, really messed up, and he knew it. He knew this would never work out. God, he was such an idiot.
“Please,” he whimpered.
“If you don’t get out of this room right now, I’m calling security.” She wanted to scream, to beat him, to cry, but she couldn’t. Not here.
He stood up, ran his hands through his hair, and walked out. Amber angrily pressed the power button on the television remote and hurled the remote across the room before pressing her face into her hands and sobbing. He lied to her.
