Giselle fought the knot in her stomach tighten as she watched Ian leave. The whole restaurant seemed to pause their conversations. Most people didn't turn their heads to stare. After he had vanished through the door and didn't return, Giselle returned her attention to the table. Annie looked away and avoided eye contact and Celestine met her glare, but smiled and shrugged. "Payback's a bitch, ain't it?", Cel laughed and leaned back into her chair. The superior posture disgusted Giselle. Why would anyone go to such lengths? It's been 8 years!

Without a second thought, she pushed herself up, turned on her heel and dashed after Ian. This time people did stare, but she couldn't care less. After passing the main entrance door, she glanced left and then right, "Ian!!!". Her way lead her to the car. "Iaaaaan!!", she yelled again. The parking lot was concrete, but the small shortcut from The Mariner was a dusty trail with lots of pebbles. She stumbled across it as fast as she could with her heels. "Fuck, why did I wear those", she cursed when the thin stiletto sunk into a small hole between the pebbles.

Emerging from a hedge line, Giselle saw Ian in the car. He looked angry and frustrated, his hands gripped the steering wheel and she could see his white knuckles. When she tried to pick up the pace a little, she stumbled and fell. Her hands and left knee hit the dirt. A nail chipped, the polish with it, the expensive cloth tore on her knee together with her skin, scratches all over the toe cap and a bloody scratch on her other palm. "Ah fuck, that hurts", Giselle's face showed a grimace and she checked her hands. They were the most noticeable source of her pain. She pushed herself up and quickly pulled her shoes off. In beige, skin-coloured socks, she ran to the car and climbed onto the passenger seat.

Ian looked at her with worry in his eyes, "Are you ok?". "It'll heal, but it bloody hurts", she responded while checking her knee. Blood seeped through the dirt cover and her right hand showed blood oozing along a scratch that reached across half her palm. "I'll deal with that at home", she concluded and winced.

"What do you mean, home?", Ian wondered and the emotions rose inside him once again. Giselle didn't look at him, instead she checked the trail to the The Mariner, that stayed devoid of anyone. Then she said, "Just drive. Your bleeding ex can drive Annie home for all I care". Ian hesitated, but nodded eventually and started the car.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

They drove in silence. Ian's anger made him speed multiple times and take turns way too aggressively, but Giselle knew, talking to him now would make it worse. Instead she wondered what to do about this now. Was she really mad at him? She should be. And was he mad at her? His bad judgement calls were years in the past, but hers happened days ago. Now that she thought about it, she didn't even know whether it was worth it at all. Hindsight is always done with more clarity.

The car arrived in the underground parking garage, that belongs to the apartment complex. They had made it without a speeding ticket or accidents. Both walked up the stairs to their apartment, Giselle's steps were quiet and stealthy as she carried her heels in her hand.

Her first stop was the bathroom. She slipped out of her pants and socks, threw them into the corner and stepped into the shower. Moments later, warm water ran down her legs. It soaked the wounds on both her hands and knee. The dirty, dried blood washed off and fresh blood emerged. It stung. "Fuck, that hurts", Giselle exclaimed while gritting her teeth.

When she was done, she used a clean, burgundy towel to dry off. It wouldn't show the blood stains. From the cabinet, she took two patches and put them on the wounds. Slipping out of her t-shirt blouse and bolero, she walked into the bedroom and changed into her pajamas. As she had passed through the living room, she noticed light in the kitchen.

Dressed and patched up, she joined Ian in the kitchen. He was sitting on the wooden floor and held a glass with a light brown liquid. He pushed another glass over to Giselle with his foot and motioned her to sit. Reluctantly she decided to sit. This was not something she had ever seen him do, and while he didn't look scary, there was a certain amount of hesitation in her.

Making eye contact, she let herself slip down to the floor along the wall. The glass next to her held at least four shots, if not five and smelled of alcohol. It was from Ian's "emergency stash", as he called his selection of vodka and whiskey. After she pulled a face at the smell, he motioned his hand at her to drink and took a sip from his glass. He pressed his lips together, swallowed and then showed his teeth while squinting with his eyes. She waited, holding onto the glass for now. "Now you know how my fucked up relationship with Cel ended. Your turn, explain to me what the fuck happened between you and our neighbor, will you?"