Ari took another step after her, wanted to protest again, to plead with her once more – but she was gone. And the trouble was she was right, he tried to rationalise, no matter how much he wished he could go with her: Dionisia would do better on her own tonight. She would be less distracted from Elliott without him there, without this betrayal on her mind – and she was capable enough as a mediwitch and a mother on her own. What use was he?
Standing in the gaping doorway of Ben’s bedroom, Ari watched her leave, feeling his life slipping away with her. Elliott would be alright, he told himself. She would owl him if it was serious, he hoped. Everything else suddenly seemed – too much to hope for. He swallowed, ran a hand through dishevelled hair, found the doorframe and grasped at it for dear life, digging his fingers into the wood until his knuckles were white.
Don’t come home tonight. Maybe she would let him come home in the morning, if he was lucky, just to be sure Elliott was recovering – or maybe she would not let him come home again. Ari didn’t dare let go or look back into the bedroom. Somehow it felt wrong that Ben had been here and witnessed all of it; somehow his house felt like a stranger’s now, like Ari had no place in it anymore. He couldn’t be here. It would only be worse, letting it sink into reality, if he tried to meet Ben’s eyes now.
“Her son,” he said hollowly, lifting his other hand to hide his face. He couldn’t think what to do with himself yet, not when she had left him to grapple with that. Worse than her tone or the anger in her gaze – my son, Dionisia had said. Not ours, not anymore. Not that he had ever been, but... Ari was sure he had understood that for exactly what she had meant this time – that he had lost the right to be anyone to her and to her son.
Standing in the gaping doorway of Ben’s bedroom, Ari watched her leave, feeling his life slipping away with her. Elliott would be alright, he told himself. She would owl him if it was serious, he hoped. Everything else suddenly seemed – too much to hope for. He swallowed, ran a hand through dishevelled hair, found the doorframe and grasped at it for dear life, digging his fingers into the wood until his knuckles were white.
Don’t come home tonight. Maybe she would let him come home in the morning, if he was lucky, just to be sure Elliott was recovering – or maybe she would not let him come home again. Ari didn’t dare let go or look back into the bedroom. Somehow it felt wrong that Ben had been here and witnessed all of it; somehow his house felt like a stranger’s now, like Ari had no place in it anymore. He couldn’t be here. It would only be worse, letting it sink into reality, if he tried to meet Ben’s eyes now.
“Her son,” he said hollowly, lifting his other hand to hide his face. He couldn’t think what to do with himself yet, not when she had left him to grapple with that. Worse than her tone or the anger in her gaze – my son, Dionisia had said. Not ours, not anymore. Not that he had ever been, but... Ari was sure he had understood that for exactly what she had meant this time – that he had lost the right to be anyone to her and to her son.
