Not Anymore

Pain

The next morning, Chris was jolted awake by a series of sharp knocks reverberating through his small apartment. Groggy and disoriented, he peeled himself away from the heavy blankets that were still bundled around him. His eyes felt puffy and bloodshot, remnants of a restless night clinging to him like a persistent fog. He realized with a slight embarrassment that he hadn’t taken a shower or changed out of the black T-shirt he had worn the day before.

His heart raced a little as he jumped out of bed, the cold wooden floor sending a chill through his bare feet. “Who is it?” he called out, his voice hoarse from sleep.

A calm and composed female voice filtered through the closed door. “It’s me.”

Instantly, Chris straightened up, a wave of alertness washing over him. “Irene? What is she doing here?” he wondered, feeling a mix of surprise and apprehension. The last time he’d seen her had been under rather complicated circumstances, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about this unexpected visit.

“Chris? Are you there?” Her voice came again, slightly more insistent now, pulling him from his swirling thoughts.

“Yeah… be there in a sec,” he mumbled, quickly brushing a hand through his disheveled hair as he hurried toward the door. There was an unsettling blend of hope and anxiety dancing in his chest, but he pushed the feelings down as he hurried towards the door.

Pulling the door wide open, he was met by the alluring figure of his boss.

“Morning?” she greeted, pushing her way past him.

Chris was taken back. He hadn’t expected her to be this nice towards him, especially considering how their earlier encounters had been. But shrugging, he followed after her.

She was in a pink pajama which seemed to enhance her features, making her seem even more alluring.

“Morning boss,” he responded back, sounding as casual as he could be.

“Boss?” she frowned and turned to face him.

Chris didn’t react as he pulled the door shut.

Irene stared at him sternly as she walked over, taking short, slow, deliberate steps.

He didn’t move.

She scanned him from head to toe and frowned, “You didn’t change last night?”

Chris shrugged, “I was tired.” He mumbled, and she nodded as her expression shifted to something tender and almost imploring as she began walking towards him,

“I know…” she began.

“I have been hard on you these few days,” She said almost as arm reach to him.

“I haven’t been giving you the attention you deserve, my sweet pie.” She took one final step and stood directly in front of him.

Chris looked at her eyes as she blinked and continued.

“I apologize, hope you are not mad, you… you aren’t mad, right?” she said, slowly and coyly wrapping her delicate arms around his waist.

Chris didn’t react. He looked down at her, his breath quickening.

“Honey, say something?” she asked as she pulled her body closer to his.

She whispered into his ear, the warmth of her breath sending a shiver down his spine.

“I love you.”

That got his attention and his eyes went wide as the words seemed to find their way into his mouth.

“You what?” he blurted out.

“I love you,” She said, slowly brushing her lips against his pinna ear.

Chris blinked.

“I mean I don’t understand?” he said, and slowly she pulled away, not letting go of his waist.

“Look, it's not what you think it is between me and…” she started, but he waved her off.

“It's not about him. I mean, what are we? Really, Irene?” He paused, his eyes searching for hers.

“I mean, I just don’t know at times, if I…” he was about to continue, but the next second, she put a finger against his lips and with a, “shh!”

Slowly pushed her face forward and planted a kiss directly on his lips.

“Calm down, honey.” She whispered, slowly pulling away.

Chris, closed his eyes and opened them back, his face looked almost strained.

He slowly pulled away and, without a word, walked towards the bed and sat as he buried his face in his palms.

She watched him go without a word.

After some time, he sighed and lifted his head.

“I don’t know Irene, I… I think I am tired of this, I… I don’t think I can keep on doing this anymore.” He explained the bitter strain in his voice.

Irene walked over and climbed onto the bed. She slowly hugged him from behind, her hands wrapped around his chest.

“What are you talking about honey? I told you there is nothing going on between me and Marlin?” She spoke.

“Irene, if you were asked what kind of person I am, what would it be?” he asked.

She hesitated, “Honey, you are the sweetest, most hardworking and intelligent creature I know.” She said with conviction.

"Irene, amidst everything we’ve talked about, don’t you think you’ve overlooked something important?”

She narrowed her eyes, confusion crossing her face. “What do you mean?”

With a heavy sigh, he searched her gaze, desperation lacing his words. “I’m human, just like you. I have real feelings, a heartbeat that sometimes feels like it’s about to break. I can feel pain—not just the physical kind, but emotional turmoil that shakes me to my core. I get tired too; exhaustion seeps into my bones and weighs me down.

I feel hurt when I'm dismissed or ignored, just as you would. I experience frustration that bubbles over like a pot on the stove, anger that flares up unexpectedly, and loneliness that wraps itself around me like a heavy blanket on the coldest nights.” He paused, his voice thick with emotion, each word steeped in the rawness of his truth.

“I’m just like you, Irene. I experience the world with the same depth, the same vulnerability. I feel everything as keenly as you do, as every other person does. I can feel overwhelmed, lost, and yes, I can also reach a point where I want to give up.” The pain in his voice was palpable, echoing in the silence that followed, leaving a lingering weight in the air—a truth that hung between them, asking to be acknowledged.