Orleana's POV
“Greg!”
The door suddenly slammed shut behind me, making the door vibrate on its hinges. Then came the turning of the key locks.
“Please wait, Greg!” I called out. My voice came out blunt and weak, like a dull knife that had been used for years.
Greg didn't wait; he didn't listen to me. He didn't even look into my face, he looked away as though we had been long-time enemies slugging it out as rivals, just the way Joan had always seen me.
We had shared fantastic memories. His childhood memories. Even his parenthood memories, of course, he had two kids, but their mother was late.
He left without turning back, I could hear his footsteps thundered against the floor as though they were determined to break it apart.
Maybe to some extent I wouldn't blame him; maybe he was
