Damsel of Destruction

ELOISE The smell of jet fuel, the hum of rolling luggage, the distant announcements—they all press down on my chest like a quiet grief I’ve learned to carry. Airports are supposed to be gateways to new beginnings, but for me, they only ever feel like endings. Every time I walk through those glass doors, suitcase in hand, a part of me splinters. I’m leaving again. I’m leaving my little brother again. The weight of it presses against my chest as I step into the airport, familiar and unforgiving. I still remember those quiet nights when I chose my career over him—when I left him alone in that house that once echoed with laughter and shared secrets. It’s just the two of us at that time when our parents and our older brother left the country first. I promised Daze we wouldn’t be separated. I swore I’d stay. But I broke that promise. And even if he doesn’t say it, I know he’s still angry. Maybe he has every right to be. “Bye.” he said coldly. “Too cold, Dazey!” Nadia, her girlfriend, scolded him. It’s a comfort, in a way, knowing Daze has someone special. Maybe I was never meant to be the only woman he leaned on. Laughters escaped my mouth when I saw their cute banter. “Say it again,” Nadia demanded. “Goodbye, El,” he said without taking a glance at me. “Our Daze is very cold and very cute,” I giggled. “Cute? I’m not the 13-year-old Daze you left behind,” he said, his voice sharper than he probably meant it to be. But there it was—the ache, still alive in him after all this time. No matter how many times I’ve said sorry, no matter how much I wish I could undo it, he can’t forget. And maybe he shouldn’t. This is the consequence of my choices, and if carrying that weight means he keeps his guard up, I’ll accept it—gladly. “Goodbye, El. I’m going to miss you.” Nadia smiled. “You can always visit Paris.” I said. “When we’re not busy, we’ll surely pay you a visit.” the sweetheart said then hugged me tightly as if I will never go back. Returning the embrace, I looked at Daze who had an agonizing look on his face. “Come here, you!” I uttered, so our embrace became a group hug. After we said our goodbyes, I turned away before the tears could betray me. I moved through the airport like a ghost—checking in, passing security, walking gate to gate—but I felt nothing. Nothing but the familiar, crushing loneliness that always greets me when I leave. I’m leaving the country again. Leaving him again. And every time I do, it feels like a piece of me stays behind. I didn't even notice the tears until they streaked down my cheeks, smudging the makeup I had carefully applied to look strong. Composed. Beautiful. But no amount of foundation could hide the truth. How long has it been since I left Daze the first time? Too long. Long enough to build a name in Paris. Long enough to walk the runways, to hear the applause, to see my face on billboards. I am an international model, the woman who made it. But none of the lights, the cameras, or the crowds can drown out the quiet voice that asks me, every time I board a plane: Was it worth losing my brother for all of this? “Eloise Kreall?” I looked up when I heard my name. I turned toward the voice that called my name—and of course, it had to be him. My friend’s brother, the relentless thorn in my side since the day we met. He’s like a golden retriever in human form: too much energy, too many smiles, and absolutely no sense of personal space. Every time I see him, he manages to be both charming and utterly infuriating. “Kieran Jilliard.” I answered. “What are you doing here?” “I’ll ride an airplane?” he shrugged. “Oh absolutely—airports are great for impulse decisions, overpriced coffee, and emotional breakdowns. Total vacation vibes.” I said sarcastically. It was even more annoying when I heard him laughing. “That truly got me, El. I’m here for a business trip.” "Why complicate things when you could just give a simple answer?" “Quick answers are for people with simple lives.” “You’re saying you’re complicated?” “Why are you putting words in my mouth, princess?” What did he just call me? The nerve. My blood boiled the second that ridiculous endearment left his mouth—we're not that close. Daze and his brother, Kite, have been best friends since middle school, sure. And yes, I’ve been around—shared dinners, laughed at their table, even praised his mom’s cooking like a loyal guest. But we’ve always known our places. There’s a line, and he’s never hesitated to toe it… or cross it with a grin that makes me want to both slap and strangle him. A storm of emotions swirled inside me, threatening to take over. The sadness of leaving my country—leaving Daze—weighed heavy on my chest. Then there was the looming stress waiting for me in Paris, with its flashing lights, flawless expectations, and brutal schedules. And now, him. This man with his infuriating charm and boundary issues, throwing my already fragile mood completely off balance. It was too much, all at once. And I wasn’t sure which emotion would win—grief, anxiety, or pure, unfiltered annoyance. “Let’s not see each other again, Kieran,” I said coldly, brushing past him without looking back. But of course, he couldn’t leave it alone. “Nice walk,” he called after me, then added with a smirk, “and even nicer ass.” I froze for half a second. Of course he would say that. That infuriating, golden-retriever energy never knew when to shut up. AFTER THE ALMOST 15 HOUR FLIGHT, THE PLANE FINALLY LANDED to Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport. My nostrils familiarize with the smell of Paris, France—my second home and a place that fulfilled my dreams and desire. Pulling my luggage with me, I walked out of the airport to see the person who will pick me up from here. He’ll drive me back to my pied-à-terre so that I can rest for a bit before going to work tomorrow. Picking out my phone from my jeans pocket, I sent him a message immediately. Eloise: Where are you? Did he forget that I’m coming home today? Disappointed, I massage my temples to ease the headache my boyfriend gave me. Eloise: In case you forgot, my flight is today and I am already in Paris. I’ve been waiting, giving him time, watching the clock tick past ten agonizing minutes. He still hadn’t opened my message. With a huff, I called him. The annoyance must’ve been written all over my face—I didn’t even try to hide it. The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. By the fifth ring, I was seconds away from hanging up… and then he finally answered. Finally! “Jacob, where are you?” with a voice that tried to hide my irritation. [I just woke up, babe.] His voice is hoarse—a sign that he just woke up. Jacob—my boyfriend—definitely forgot about my flight. My blood boiled, and I could feel the heat rising to my face—red with anger, red with disappointment. He had done it again. For the nth time, my boyfriend showed just how little he cared. That same careless tone, that same dismissive attitude… like our relationship was something he could pick up and put down whenever it suited him. “Okay, sleepwell, dumbass.” I said then hung up the call. Breathing heavily due to my annoyance, I closed my eyes and find ways to bring my heart back to its normal beat. Jacob makes me feel that I am unworthy and I will be forever lonely. My friend once told me that I deserve what I tolerate, it is my fault why he’s treating me this way. “Boyfriend problems?” “Oh f**k!” I shrieked when I heard someone close behind me. Turning around and staying away from him, I saw the golden retriever man I left in the airport. Wearing his wide smile and sparkling eyes, he’s looking at me as if he’s wagging his tail in front of his owner. “Do you want to f**k?” I am dumbfounded by his sudden question. The Kieran I met several years ago was direct but not this straight-forward—he should be shameless because his parents are very kind and hospitable. The redness on my face became crimson because of anger and embarrassment. “What are you doing here?” I repeated the question I asked hours ago. “Are you following me?” Kieran placed his hand on his chest as if he’s hurt by my words. I squinted my eyes at this overreacting man, can’t he act like a normal person. “You’re accusing me of something I didn’t do. Do I look like a stalker to you?” Kieran while pointing at himself using his index finger. “You look like one.” I answered. His expression darkened after hearing my answer. Why is he looking at me like that, was he possessed or something? Kieran took another step towards me and I took a step behind. He bent a little because he’s taller than me. “You didn’t listen to what I told you, I am here for a business trip. It just happens that it is in Paris and I don’t have to explain anything to you.” he answered. I gulped the lump in my throat, thinking that Kieran has an aura of a monster. All this time, he’s showing a golden-retriever facade but he can also change his attitude to a stern one. Turning my eyes into slits, I scrutinize his weird behavior but he changes it back to a jolly one. “I need your help, princess.” he smiled. “No.” I answered then walked past him. But this time, he actually followed me—like a damn dog that refuses to be left behind. With his stupid long legs, he caught up to me in seconds, naturally towering over me like always. Taking a halt from walking, I glared at him who is now standing in front of me. “I said,” he repeated, “I need your help.” “Is it bad that I don’t want to help you?” I asked, voice thick with sarcasm. “You don’t really have a choice,” he said, grinning. “I’m your friend’s brother, it’s my first time in Paris, and I need someone beautiful like you to show me around. Don’t you have a heart, El?” I groaned. “Fine.” But it wasn’t because he called me pretty. It was because his family took care of my brother when I couldn’t. That kind of debt doesn’t just disappear. If helping him once means I can avoid him for the next few days, then fine—worth it. I need to make sure he doesn’t haunt me all over Paris later.