Too Late For His Regret

My phone rang, shrill in the silent, empty house, pulling me from the suffocating memory.

It was Augustus.

"Hey, Claire," his voice was warm, reassuring. "Just wanted to check if you needed any help with the last of the boxes."

"No, I'm okay," my voice came out a little rough. "Thanks, Augustus."

I closed the tin box.

Then, decisively, I tossed it into a large trash bag, already filled with old newspapers and dusty knick-knacks. The bag went into the main garbage bin, waiting for pickup.

Augustus and I booked flights for that evening.

New beginnings awaited.

But fate, it seemed, had one last cruel twist in store.

As I rounded a corner on my bike, a noisy group of people crowded the sidewalk. Jonah, surrounded by friends, was laughing loudly, his arm around Anisa's shoulders, who looked perfectly content. They'd just come from a celebratory dinner.

I lowered my head, hoping to slip past unnoticed, a silent ghost blending into their celebratory throng.

But Anisa's eyes were sharper than I'd thought. They found me. She pulled away from Jonah's embrace and came running toward me.

"Claire!" she shrieked, darting directly into my path.

I slammed on the brakes. The bike skidded violently. The front wheel wobbled, and I was thrown forward.

I hit the ground, slamming into the side of a parked car, my arm scraping against it with a sickening thud. The world spun, and a sharp pain shot through my leg.

Jonah didn't rush to me. He rushed to Anisa, who was screaming in fright, gathering her into his arms.

"Are you okay, baby? Did she hit you?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger.

His gaze finally landed on me, crumpled on the sidewalk. "Claire! What the hell were you thinking? Were you trying to run her over?"

"Jonah, she fell too!" one of his friends exclaimed, pointing at my bruised arm and scraped knee.

He finally turned, truly looking at me, but the anger in his eyes didn't diminish. "Are you hurt?" His tone was still harsh, devoid of genuine concern.

Ignoring him, I forced myself up, pain lancing through me. My gaze fixed on Anisa, still clinging to Jonah, pale-faced.

"Anisa, why did you jump in front of my bike?" I asked, my voice raspy with suppressed anger.

Anisa's eyes widened with innocence. "Oh, Claire, I'm so sorry! I just saw you! I ran over to tell you I finally sorted things out with Jonah's mom. She said I can stay in the guest room! See?"

She turned to Jonah, pouting triumphantly, a hint of mischief in her expression. "Claire, honey, you misunderstood. She wasn't trying to hurt me just now. You should apologize."

Jonah let out a cold laugh, his face still hard. "Apologize? For what? For protecting you from her attacks? Claire's always been like this, always picking on those weaker than her."

He looked at me, a challenging glint in his eyes. "Claire, if you apologize first, then I'll apologize. And you have to promise to stop giving Anisa a hard time."

Anisa stepped forward, radiating angelic forgiveness. "Oh, Jonah, don't be so harsh! Claire, I'm sorry, he's just so protective of me. He can get a little hot-headed sometimes." Her words were gentle, insidiously skillful.

I just looked at her, then at Jonah, my heart a blank slate. "No need," I said, my voice flat and empty. "Really, it's fine. Don't apologize."

Jonah's face twisted. "There you go again," he sneered. "Acting like you don't care. Always so self-righteous."

I said nothing, just got back on my bike, my leg throbbing, and pedaled away.

As I passed his friends, I caught a snatch of his voice. "She's making a big deal out of nothing," he said dismissively. "It's not like she sacrificed anything. She chose to go. It was her own decision."

But I didn't look back. I just pedaled harder, toward the future, toward Augustus, toward everything that wasn't here.

My flight is about to take off.