𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨 - 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚒 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚔

chopsticks.

I feel chills in my spine, my legs tremble and for a moment I think I'm having a nightmare. He's really in front of me. My eyes go from his Nike Air Force 1 to his black cap. His almond eyes are focused on mine and silence takes over. A disturbing silence between us both bothers me, making me shrink in fear.

"Hello Dominique." His voice is deep and low.

"Oliver" I answer, taking another step back.

"I won't hurt you, I promise." He tries to convince me by raising his open hands to his chest.

"I don't trust you," I say, hesitant to raise my voice.

The distance between us doesn't seem to be enough for me. All I want now is for him to go away so I can cry in my room. We continue to look at each other, hesitant to do anything that triggers the other.

"What do you want?" I ask, holding the yakisoba pot with both hands.

"I just want to talk," he says, with a tone of sadness in his voice. "I miss you."

"Stop" I say, interrupting him. "How did you find out where I live?

He takes two steps forward, approaching me. He interrupts me, "It's true. I miss you." Something in his tone seems genuine. "I thought you might invite me in," he adds, nodding his head toward the door.

I get thoughtful. What Oliver wants after all these years apart. I learned that he was following me everywhere after I broke up with him, which was a shock to him because for the first time I raised my voice to him. He thought I was the love of his life after two months together, putting too much pressure on me to be the perfect girlfriend. He was always obsessed with me, but I thought after years he would have found someone.

I walk towards the front door, my right hand going through the inside of my bag through a bunch of keys. He's right behind me, with his hands stuck in his jeans pockets. I open the door with my trembling hand, wondering if that's a good idea. I walk in and wait for Oliver to come in, looking at every step he takes. His eyes wander around the room.

I take my cell phone from my purse and put it in my pants pocket if anything happens. He takes a few steps and he realizes that I'm staring at him. "You don't have to be afraid, I won't hurt you," he warns me.

"That's what you said when you hit me," I reply, defensive and still standing in the corner.

He turns to look at the furniture. "Beautiful house." He praises, touching with his fingertips through the upholstery of the chairs.

I'm scared. It's all I can describe. No more chills or hesitations. Just fear. I go to the kitchen counter and put my yakisoba pot and my bag on. I turn slowly, not knowing how to start this conversation. I believe he has something to ask.

"So... what do you want?" I ask, already impatient.

"I wanted to see you, Dom," he smiles a nice but false smile.

"Don't call me Dom" I reprimand him.

"I'm sorry," he says, approaching me, which makes me more nervous.

"Why are you here, Oliver?" I ask once again.

Your body is a few feet away from me. His body is leaning sideways, his head is a little low, and his eyes are focused on mine, scared. His hands seem nervous inside his pockets and the silence of the house makes me anxious. He seems to want something.

"Are you seeing anyone?" he asks, a little hesitant.

"I am," I say, trying to sound as confident as possible, "but you already know that.