I wouldn't call myself a volatile person but I was very irrational when it came to burning off my relationship with Philip. My decision to end things with him before knowing his side was unfair.

As I drove back to LA, I couldn't help contemplate the scenario had Philip divulged the truth about my parents beforehand.

Upon entering the city, my shuffled mind sprang back to the memories of the first time I came here with John and Sasha for my interview. Everything good happened from that day - landing the job, making friends with Lily and Steve but most of all, meeting Philip again.

The blaring traffic, hot, blazing sun and the long wait on the jam-packed highway, all drove me to reevaluate my decision.

My parents, even with their interference in my relationship, suffered much less than they anticipated. Though I blew off my lip upon realizing what they did, I couldn't stay mad at them for long.

But Philip - he suffered in silence while I took an axe of harsh decision making and severed our ties.

If only I gave him a chance to explain.

After an hour's drive, I reached home. I dragged my belongings from the back seat and rushed towards the shade and comfort of my apartment.

Every unproductive second - whether it was waiting for the elevator, staring at its interior while the machine pulled me up to my apartment or even getting inside and plunging onto Linda's death-trap couch - all were spent trying to contact Philip.

His voicemails were full. So the plan to send heartfelt apologies, paras one to hundred, failed. I tried dropping him texts too but all of them bounced.

Failure after failure made the comfort of the apartment turn haunting. It trailed a maddening thought in my mind.

Did something bad happen to Philip?

An idle mind being a devil's workshop, proved to be an understatement.

Every bounced message drew the image of Philip being water boarded in my mind. Every failed voicemail made me believe he was injured in some accident somewhere.

I wouldn't try taking credit for my vivid, gory, imagination. It was a steak I imbibed from my mother. As I child, whenever I reached home late from school, she would conjure up the worst-case scenarios ranging from kidnapped to organ trading.

I assumed, as a mother she might have had imagined even worse scenarios. She never divulged them to me.

As the silence of the house hammered inside my head, my thoughts riveted between worse and worst screenplays, all starring Philip.

I was officially supposed to join the restaurant only tomorrow. When my humble abode acted like a land-based Kraken, attacking my sanity from all sides, I decided to take refuge in the familiarity of my restaurant kitchen.

Philip still had a week left before he joined Quantico.

A part of me was worried. Scared that Philip wouldn't forgive me when I asked for forgiveness. I hurt him when he tried to tell me the truth. I refrained from contacting him even after knowing the truth - hoping to meet him face to face and beg for forgiveness.

In the light of newfound doubts, I realized Philip had genuine reasons to stay away from me, not mend our relationship. With a family of meddling parents and a girlfriend who jumped on conclusions faster than a rocket launcher, Philip might find this breakup to be a boon sent from heaven.

Cynicism was my longtime companion, often visiting me while I was at my lowest.

As I steered into the restaurant's parking lot, my mind conjured up newer scenarios. The changes of Philip rejecting my apology and moving away to find finding someone worth millions, both in the looks and intelligence department at Quantico was high.

Higher were the chances of him avoiding me after the way I treated him.

I turned up the radio. The jarring sounds overpowered the swooshing noise escaping from the ac vents. I sat and watched the entrance of my beloved restaurant like a creepy stalker.

I had no courage in my limbs to walk inside. I had no strength left in my body to face Philip.

Though I wanted to state my fears and insecurities to him, like he always had, I was frightened at the thought of him being mad at me. Rejecting me.

I felt the weight of his undelivered rejection already breaking me apart.

Unlike other times when either Lily or Steve helped me navigate through my doubts, this journey was my own to undertake. Nobody but I could have helped me.

Pulling my purse from the passenger seat, I walked out of my car towards the entrance.

My heart thumped over my chest, my ears rang with a pressure-inducing vacuum and a flatlining sensation. My cotton shirt clung to my skin like a second layer. Sweat beards trailed from the sides of my face as I walked in.

In contrast to the outside inferno, the cool wind from the centralized ac in the lobby trailed goosebumps all over my skin. I stood under the blast vent - mostly used to drive away insects from entering - to blow dry my whole body and reinstate a sense of calmness.

The left turn towards Philip's office halted my steps.

The dim- lighting of his hallway called out to me. Like a person lost in a forest at night, seeking shelter to escape the growing darkness, I moved ahead. I chose to face my fears than to run from them.

I decided to address and accept my mistake and hope Philip saw the truth in my words.

They say that the mind and heart had different ways to operate. While my mind contemplated the worst-case scenarios, my heart was busy pulling its strings that made me walk ahead.

In front of Philip's closed office door, I waited. Watching the cold appearance of his steel doorknob, my hand rose and fell. Then rose again. My fingers trailed over the soft metal. My fist turned into a bunch, raising to knock on the door when I saw the gold-colored, bold letters on the wooden panel.

Christopher Hagen. Restaurant Manager.

My steps fired up, dragging me across the lobby and into the kitchen.

I saw Steve leaning over a plate. His head was tilted to a side, carefully pouring what seemed to be a red wine reduction over a piece of a sizzling steak.

When I moved in with unsteady steps, mind still grappling with the new manager's information, Steve noticed me.

He checked his digital watch, probably to confirm the date before sliding the plate towards the waiter. He moved out from his arena and without a word in exchange, pulled me into a long, rib-crushing hug.

My internal organs said a little prayer but his juggernaut force rendered it useless.

"Steve," a strangled moan escaped from me. "How are you?"

Steve didn't answer. His face hung low. With a flash of pain dancing across his narrowed eyes, he walked me towards the exit.

I looked over to Linda's abandoned station. She wasn't in yet. She wasn't home either.

Outside, under the canopy of canvas overhead, Steve's defeated expressions morphed into a mirror, reflecting the torments of his soul. His face reddened, his eyes closed shut and he knelt on his knees like a warrior who witnesses death and destruction. Defeat.

"Steve," when I called out, pressing my hand over his left shoulder, he tilted his head up. Erecting himself over his wobbly legs, he nodded. "Are you okay?"

"Nothing is okay, Daisy. Nobody is," Steve sighed. He rained the air from the surroundings, waving his hands. The heat from the rising temperature wasn't as harsh as were the words falling off his lips. "That fucking GM took over. Linda's gone and..." his voice trailed off and so did his eyes, dancing over the garbage trolleys.

I wasn't able to piece his words together. Linda's father, GM, was supposed to take over a month later. Since I couldn't talk to Linda, being wrapped in my problems, I wasn't sure where she was. Or why her father arrived sooner.

Drawing a long wheezed breath, Steve held my hands. "GM took over earlier than we expected. Linda and I had a big fight when I said I wanted to leave before her father took over. We sorta broke up."

"But you guys-"

"We knew what we were getting into, Daisy. We both knew of our expiration date but ignored it."

Steve's statement about his relationship was heart-wrenching. Had Linda's father not intervened in the fragile mold of their relationship, they might have survived. Maybe, even thrived.

The exit where we stood, appeared greyish even with the sunlight streaming in through the canopy. It felt as if the murky state of affairs at the restaurant had an overpowering effect to dim the sun's brilliant shine.

"Why didn't you leave?" I asked, watching Steve force shut his eyes.

Why indeed did Steve stay back when everything he held dear was peeled away from him?

GM's takeover meant Steve wasn't in charge anymore. He was a namesake head-chef, who had to suffer the management's interference with his creativity.

"For you," Steve answered. The corner of his lip curled up. "I was asked to stay till you returned. Till you finished your final days at the restaurant."

I knew in my heart, who called in his last favor before leaving.

Philip, whom I falsely accused of breaking my heart and breaking us apart; even in his absence, was looking out for me.

There were moments in everyone's relationship which defined its next course, paving the way for it to proceed ahead. Like a flowing river that defined its embankment, Philip's care and concern for me spoke of his unsaid feelings. It still defined me. Us.

For him, his love never stopped. It never ceased to exist.

For Philip, his Daisy never broke up.

I was just a clone who lived in the parallel version of their true love, trying to separate them. I was foolish enough to think Philip and Daisy could be so easily taken apart.

What I didn't know was the fact that they weren't two but one entity.

~ 

And now that Philip left, what do you think Daisy would do to let him know she forgave him?

Do you think she would succeed?

And with the last few chapters left for this novel to be completed, let me know how have you felt reading this piece so far?

Your inputs are always welcome :X