Since the current situation made no sense to me whatsoever, I gave up on trying to analyze it. Or, at the very least, until I finish my breakfast.

I must commend the waiter’s professionalism. He had it in him to take Helen’s order before storming off. That alone deserved a generous tip.

I took a sip of my cappuccino and dug into my breakfast. I was certain that Helen was proficient enough in reading people to understand my cues.

So, quite a situation I found myself in there, eh? I had a number of questions that I would like answered, and ‘Why haven’t you answered my message then?’ was somewhere near the top of that list.

A different waiter brought Helen’s order. Understandable.

The young woman in question thanked him with an awkward smile in response to his questioning look.

I took another sip of my coffee.

What was I even supposed to do now?

“Michael.” Helen called out my name.

“Mm?” I let my attention be known, since my mouth was busy chewing

“Why have you ghosted me?” She decided to go straight to the point.

I swallowed the food and took another sip of coffee to give myself some time to think about it.

“Hm. It’s very hard to explain to anyone who isn’t me. I think the closest thing to the truth should be something like,” I paused for a moment, choosing my words. “I came too close to falling for you and became afraid. So I ran away.”

And it was, in fact, as close to the truth as possible. I only changed one word—from ‘interest’, the loaded term that made full sense only to me, to ‘love’, an abstract concept I never fully understood but should be infinitely close in this context.

“And, did it... work?” Not at all.

“In a way,” I lied.

The time helped a lot to take the edge off, so, in a way, I wasn’t that close to falling for her anymore. Yet, in actual truth, my interest in her was still as strong as ever.

Helen, to me, was like the first-ever hit. No one after her could come even close to that high. And my endless search for a repeat led to the idea of Beast.

“I see…” She lowered her eyes. Then, trying to change the topic, she asked another question. “So, erm, why have you thought I moved on?”

Another direct one, eh?

“This,” I clapped my phone that was lying on the table.

“Your phone?” She raised her eyes again.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Well, to be precise, a message.” The one she still hadn’t even read.

Her pretty face showed a complete lack of understanding, as if my words didn’t make a lick of sense to her.

“Have you even read my messages?” There was a bit of anger mixed into her tone.

“Yes?” More than twenty years into the future.

A scene from my first life flashed before my mind’s eye.

I had been drunk out of my mind, which was my usual state back then. And I was waiting to pass out while watching TV. It was a show about powerful women in this hellhole of a city, and the episode was about Helen Smith.

One of the questions was about her love life, and she gave a very vague answer that could’ve meant that she had someone in mind but was otherwise free. I still remember feeling like a complete loser after having a fleeting hope that those words might’ve been about me.

.

Hah, as if!

“And which of your blind eyes found something about moving on in my messages?” Oh, Helen was definitely angry.

I chuckled. Regarding her temper, Helen was a true granddaughter of Grandpa Smith.

“It’s more about you leaving my message unread for the last two weeks,” I shrugged and shoveled a bit more of the breakfast inside myself.

For some unknown reason, my words made her even angrier.

“When exactly have you sent it?” She asked another question.

“Two weeks ago. I'm not sure about the exact time, but it was Friday evening.”

Helen put down the coffee cup, which was about to be used as a projectile. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. A look of grim determination appeared on her beautiful face.

“I’ll kill him,” the young woman across the table stated.

“Who?” I had a hunch it wasn’t me.

“Grandpa...” she groaned, slumping down in her chair. “He took my phone away two weeks ago, when we left on a vacation trip. He hasn’t returned it yet.”

Was it wrong of me to feel happy about her reaction?

“What was in that message?” Helen asked before I had an opportunity to react.

“I asked if you wanted to go on a date.” I shook my head, remembering the cringe-worthy words I wrote while still thinking it was just a dream.

My ex-girlfriend stared blankly at me after hearing my words. Well, kind of expected reaction, to be honest.

“It was a spur of the moment decision when I woke up...” I tried to explain.

“Yes.” Only to be interrupted by her.

I could’ve played dumb there. I could have lied. There were many surefire options open to me. Yet none of them would have led to the outcome I desired.

Fuck.

“Helen, listen…” I started again.

“No.” Only to be interrupted again.

Why the fuck did it have to be so complicated?

“A lot has happened since that message was sent.” I ignored her words.

“Unfair.” Her whisper reached my ears.

It was. To her. To me. And to other girls. But such was life.

“Not getting your response gave me a push to do something new…” I continued, ignoring her response.

“Stop.” Another whisper.

“And it made me meet someone...” And again.

“I said stop.” More of the same.

“You know, in a way, I am grateful to your grandpa for taking your phone.” I finished my words.

Helen just glared at me.

“Helen, I’m sorry. I have someone already.” And she was not the only one, either; I left those words unsaid. “You should find someone better than me.”