Heart of Emily

This was just something I wrote when I was bored one day:)

The first thing he sees is her jet-black hair cascading down her back. Her hair is wavy and something in her hair shimmers in the moonlight. He thinks it’s tinsel. It must be the trend these days. After a while, he gets up and follows her. She is walking, almost swaying to the music playing in her ears. He strains to hear her humming. Soothing, though slightly off-key. She is on her way back home after work. He can vaguely smell the deep-fried batter on her clothes. They reach a traffic light. Red man. He stops a few steps back and looks away, trying to look casual. He feels her merely glance at him, then turn to cross the road. He doesn’t cross the road with her.

His heart sinks. She didn’t recognise him.

She recognised him. The tuft of white in his hair, the crookedness of his nose, the small scar leading to his lips. How could she forget? She walks faster now, more urgent. He doesn’t follow her. How did he figure out where she worked? Does he know where she lives? Her phone rings.

“Yeah, okay. I’m coming back soon... 10 minutes. Mummy loves you. Bye.”

He sees her smile when she picks up the call. He feels a prick in his heart. She used to look at him this way. Whenever they shared exciting news, he used to lift her up and spin her around and she used squeal at the top of her lungs. She lost her innocence because of me. He sighs and follows her with his eyes. Then, he walks a different, longer route and ends up at her block. Eyeing a nearby bench, he dusts off the dried leaves and lays down on it, staring at the third storey.

He must have been exhausted because he woke up the next morning to the sound of children’s laughter.

He is here. She can feel it in her gut. She scans her surroundings and her eyes land on the bench two blocks away. He seems to be waking up. He stretches his back and rubs his eyes as he sits up on the bench. He looks around. His eyes meet hers. They widen. She immediately calls to her daughter coming down the slide and asks her to go back upstairs first. Her daughter takes her time saying bye to her friends and by the time she sends her off into the lift, he is close enough to touch her. She grabs his elbow and pulls him away from the other parents in the playground.

“Why are you here? When did you get out?”

“A few weeks ago. I just wanted to see you and Emily.”

“We don’t want to see you.”

The tears in her eyes mirrored his as he reached for her hand.

“When you’re ready.”

He had slipped his number on a piece of paper into her hand.

He has a hopeful look on his face as he turns to leave.

“She’s not yours.”

He freezes.

“Not anymore.”

Now it is her turn to walk away from him.

Cover image from here.