Leonardo

Just' was such an easy word to use in a sentence.

I thought I would just attend one therapy session.

I would just sit in silence while everyone shared their grief and prove to Amara that I didn't need therapy.

What I didn't realize was the power of that word. Just one meeting felt like a lifetime.

Whoever shared before me, their grief drudged something painful from memory. I ended up speaking when called up. My decision to just sit in silence went for a toss.

It was then that I realized simple words could also have a higher, more profound power than you'd give them credit for.

When someone's phone rang, I was jolted from reliving that wretched day when I lost a part of my body and a piece of my soul.

When I turned around to give a piece of my mind to the person who disturbed me, I realized another thing.

I just couldn't escape from Zemira.

As I watched her stand at the far end of the room - a hand shoved inside her favorite black handbag which she lovingly called Prado instead of its actual name - I knew it was harder than I thought to forget about her.

She wasn't a resident of my mind anymore. She was also a resident in this new city where I moved to avoid her.

"Miss Ford. Is there something else you'd want to say or shall we resume?" Ms. Davis spoke between the loud chatters that ensued since I stopped talking. "Miss Ford..."

I couldn't take my eyes off the woman who ruled my heart and mind. No matter how hard I tried to turn around, I was glued to my chair.

I believe it was easier to forget about someone if they only existed in memories. Zemira wasn't just a memory.

She had become a part of me, my life and my thoughts. Fused over me like a second skin and embedded in each cell, she shadowed me every day and night.

Zemira never vacated her space in my mind. She never abandoned my heart.

She became an infectious entity I tried hard to chop off but failed.

"Miss Ford." The counselor's intonated voice dragged everyone's attention. "I'm talking to you."

My Zemira stood still, mouth ajar, an arm stuck inside her bag to resemble a statue. Her blue eyes didn't twinkle anymore, seemingly having lost their sheen.

I knew better than to believe that our distance made her smile vanish and her bubbling personality subdued. I knew better than to believe that Zemira didn't resemble the girl I left for my mission because she missed me.

All the unwanted media attention she nagged about, all the running and hiding she did from publicity was a façade. A ruse she used to trap me.

"Sorry," Zemira said, her intense gaze boring into me.

It heated my chest and my eyes. What I wanted - to walk over to her and chock the living hell out of the woman - vanished the moment she trembled backwards.

"I need...I ha... have...to attend this call. Sorry, everyone."

She dashed through the doors.

My blood boiled my bones, melting them, searing my flesh. My chest was aflame, pricking my vision and my breath. The world zoomed in and out of focus. I couldn't concentrate on Ms. Davis's words.

Grabbing my bag, I walked out.

Someone called out my name.

I assumed it was the counselor who didn't like the fact that I left in the middle of a sharing session.

I had other things to resolve to bother turning around. Matters of my heart.

I needed solace.

Crossing the hallway, I took a sharp left towards the exit.

I saw Zemira kneeling on the floor at the threshold. Her lower back rested on the exit door, creaking it open. With one hand, she fanned her flushed face while the other supported her head as if it would topple off.

"It's okay. It's fine..." She chanted like those school kids who had stage fright. "You're fine."

I strode ahead, lessening our gap. Although still far, I felt her warmth radiating towards me. Whatever residual connection we shared made me aware of her emotions.

I felt the wetness of her drenched eyelashes, the weight of her thickened throat and the pain in her chest when she wheezed air.

I felt her as if I was feeling myself suffering.

Why was she still acting? Nobody was here to photograph her.

Unwillingly, I moved closer to her trembling figure.

My shoes fell into her line of sight. She looked up at me, her lips trembling.

My girl was still pretty, even when her cheeks were blotched when she wiped with her sleeves. The vibrant ocean in her eyes now brimming with tears.

I couldn't bend to pick her up. If I knelt, I would have to be picked me up later.

Extending my arm, I waited.

She wiped her face clean, gasping a heavier load of air than required to fill her lungs.

I assumed it was for her to spit out a much-needed justification. Of why she did what she did.

Zemira held my hand.

My brain snapped. My body felt cold, then warm, much like the tension in the air.

For a second, I wanted to kiss her. Kiss the woman I had begun to detest.

I didn't know when my heart overtook my mind or when I began seeing her as I always saw her - a happy, smiling girl who loved me.

At that moment when I held her, I wasn't an angry, brooding man anymore. I was transported back to being that Leo who could have done anything to make her smile.

I would have walked back from my mission, without any airlift, had she told me to return. I would have resigned from my post had she called me back. I would have made heaven and hell meet, just to ensure my Zemira was happy.

But my Zemira was a figment of my imagination.

The real Zemira Ford was a ruthless manipulator who donned the attire of innocence and made me fall in love.

Her business had flourished even better since I left. With all her interviews and appearances that she did for god knows how many shows and magazines, she ensured the Ford Hotels thrived.

"Hi, Leo," Zemira tried saying. Part exhale and partly hoarse voice escaped. "What are you doing here?"

"I've shifted to New York..."

"Why?"

To avoid you and my father.

"For a change."

"When? I mean..." She hesitated for a moment, peeling her hand off mine.

"How have you been?" I tried deviating from the topic. "You must be here on a vacation?"

Her eyebrows bridged. She wiped her face again, putting up her smile.

"We're having a new location in the city. I'm working from here to overlook the developments."

There you go. After everything, her plan did work. She used me and after I left, channeled all of our attention back to focus on her company.

I was just a means to the end.

"Are you here with someone?" I asked.

Fuck. Why did I ask that?

"Leo..." A familiar voice called me from behind.

I turned around to Amara's approaching figure. With a hand shoved inside her bag and another holding a stack of paper, she tilted her head.

"Are you done with the session?"

With longer strides, she approached us.

The minute her vision landed on Zemira, she shoved her bag and the stack of paper in my hand, palming her mouth as if she met her celebrity crush.

"My god, you are Zemira, right?" Amara pushed me out of the way and took my place, grabbing Zemira's palms into her. "We met you at the hospital. I was the nurse who...umm... You remember?"

Amara bit into her lips, hiding the lie she was forced to tell. Before she could continue, Zemira started twisting her head on both sides.

"Yes. You were the nurse... at Walter Reeds Hospital," Zem said. Her eyes widened. "You and Leo...are..."

The rest of her words didn't escape.

"Yes, I'm Amara," my bubbly caretaker said, shaking her hand vigorously. "I can't believe Leo never told me that you are here."

Amara was on a mission when Antonio's incident occurred. Also, knowing her and her love for books over gossipy news, there was hardly any means for Amara to know about Zemira or the rumor that followed us.

It was my mother who updated Amara about my past. And Zemira.

"You are here..." Zemira choked. " With Leo!"

She glanced at me and Amara. Her perplexed gaze fired up my thoughts. I realized what she concluded.

Before Amara could say anything further, Zemira grabbed her bag and tossed it over her shoulder. She leaned on the wall for support, breathing through her mouth.

"I need to go. Nice meeting you... Amara... Bye, Leo."

Zemira looked at me once more, tears brimming her waterline.

That image pierced into my heart. As I watched her take small steps, my bones turned into mush. I wanted to stop her. Ask her for the reason she broke my heart.

I had to stop myself from doing it.

The little bit of self-esteem I had would turn to dust if she admitted to it. My love for her, like all things I felt for her, shall stay dormant in the deepest core of my heart.

As the creaking exit door closed behind Zemira's receding figure, Amara addressed me.

"Did I say something wrong, Leo? Was I not supposed to tell her something?"

I continued staring at the shut door, remembering the ocean blues eyes that were ready to weep.

"You did nothing wrong, Ama. Zemira thinks you're my girlfriend."

"What the fish? Why would she think that? Was it me? Did I say something that made her believe that?"

"Ama, I don't know why she concluded that." I ran my fingers through my curly hair, dragging it backwards and trying it with a band I had on my wrist. "She can think whatever she wants."

"Listen. I don't know what issues you have but I want you to rectify it. I don't care how but do it. She deserves-"

"She deserves nothing." I leaned over my knees, suddenly feeling the pain searing from my stump and coursing into my gut. "She doesn't need any sympathy from me."

"I don't care what she did to you, Leo, but I saw something in her... I can't explain what it is but I know that she deserves to know the truth. When you start dating for real, you can introduce your girlfriend to her." Amara gripped my arm, pulling me up and shoving me towards the door. "But don't try masquerading me as one. That's just fucked up."

"Did you just swear?"

"Shut up. And go."

She pushed me harder, standing behind me and breathing down my neck. When I didn't open the door for long, Amara let out an exasperated sigh.

"Don't you want to meet Faizal?" Her playful tone addressed me. "Like ever?"

Like a child who wanted to get her way around, Amara played the trump card.

I desperately wanted to meet her seven-year-old son whom she couldn't stop talking about. I don't know why, but since she spoke about Faizal - Faizy as she lovingly called him - and his likes and dislikes, all I could picture was my childhood.

I turned around, arms crossed over my chest.

"That's cheating. I've never used a cute person against you."

"You always do, Leo." She threw both her arms in the air. "You keep playing with Romeo all the time and never let me play with him. That's borderline torture. I'm just returning the favor."

Since my move to New York and after a few episodes where I was on the verge of harming myself, Amara forcefully got me a therapy dog.

Romeo was an ivory Retriever - a ball of fur - who I never thought could help me but surprisingly, he did.

"Go on now." Amara tapped her heel on the tiled floor and pushed open the door. "No meeting Faizy till you clear this misunderstanding."

I didn't require a lot of pondering before I walk out.

Zemira was my past and I had made up my mind, not to delve into it anymore.

This was me moving ahead for closure. For the solace of my heart and my soul.

I was walking with determination as my shovel, ready to bury the carcass of my love. Whoever said love never dies was wrong. It rots, deep in the corners of your heart till one day, it turns infectious and consumes you.

Not far away, I saw Zemira.

She stood between a pole and a bench. Bent, she resembled someone who needed support even to stand. Her grip on the back of the bench and the side of the pole slid.

Gravity was ready to embrace Zemira.

My feet fired up and I ran towards her, constantly reminding myself.

I was breaking her fall. Not falling for her. 

~

I love creating intense, agonizing scenes wherein you'd question everything in existence before having to enjoy the sweetness of a second chance.

Do you think Zem and Leo's misunderstandings would be cleared? 

Or would it destroy them once and for all?

Let me know your thoughts in the comments :) <3