I groaned with frustration as I forcefully slammed the door, causing the delicate rose-etched glass to vibrate. Carefully, I placed my hand on the vintage glass insert to steady it, relieved that it hadn’t shattered. The thought of damaging one of my ancestral doors, crafted by my great-great-grandfather and an original feature of the house, was terrifying. I cast a sour look at Caleb, but he seemed oblivious to my presence. At this point, I felt like an unseen participant in a never-ending argument that had been on replay for the past four weeks.

Caleb towered over me, his height stretching a full foot beyond my 5′2 frame. As he spoke, his eyes refused to meet mine, instead fixating on the shelved wall behind me. It was as if he was engaged in a heated debate with the very bricks and mortar that surrounded us, leaving me feeling utterly useless in this one-sided conversation.

“Be rational, Elizabeth,” Caleb growled, finally dropping his head and meeting my eyes. His voice was a rumbled mixture of frustration and determination. His irises’ once vibrant cobalt blue now swirled with a storm of emotions, transforming them into a dull shade of steely gray. Caleb’s raven black hair, typically rebellious even on the most sensible of days, now stood as a testament to the chaos that I apparently was inflicting on him. With each tug and pull, he sought composure in the familiar motion, something he had done even as a small child when he was angry or upset.

Back then, before I understood what the flutter of butterflies was in my stomach, I always found myself drawn to this vulnerability in him. It made him appear so human, so real to me. And even now, as we approached the age of adulthood and the boy faded into a man, his angelic face, and his kind and truthful eyes never failed to take my breath away, no matter how angry I was with him.

I couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss and longing. Gone were the carefree days of our youth, replaced by the burdensome weight of age and all its accompanying responsibilities. The future now seemed like a menacing beast lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce at any moment and rob us of our very essence. It was as if we were constantly under siege, with no respite from the ever-present threat of tomorrow.

Stealing a glance out the window, hoping to escape his words, I hoped my distraction would give him a hint that I was nearing the end of my rope. Sadly, he remained in my peripheral vision, unmoved by my silence. He took a beat and ran a hand through his hair once more as if trying to smooth out the tension in the room.

Perhaps, deep down inside, he too wished things could be the way they once were between us. If I were only brave enough to ask him, maybe he could understand why I was so pissed. Tomorrow had caught up with us, complicating everything in its wake. I couldn’t help but wonder if our friendship could withstand the injuries we have done to each other. And if all this arguing would ever break through his Ella’s arrogant upbringing and understand why I couldn't bend to him now.

I turned fully from him, searching outside of the heaviness of the room, hoping to find peace in the view. I had hoped that my silence would have been enough to deter him, but he stood his ground.

I could feel his eyes on me, waiting for me to turn back to him. And when I finally did, my heart sank. Time had a way of changing things. Before age and duty had become a factor in our relationship, we had been the best of friends. Now, we were burdened by the weight of our choices and bullied by our responsibilities.

Sure, I missed the boy he once was, as I was sure he missed the fun girl he had met in a strange new world over a decade ago. But as I looked at him now, I knew that those days were long gone. All we could do now was try to navigate the complexities of our present and hope that we could find a way to move forward without killing each other.

But his words still stung. “Honestly Elizabeth, I’m not sure I even know who you are anymore.” I wanted to lash back with the same hurtful words, but I knew it wouldn’t solve anything. I was tired of apologizing for things I hadn’t meant to happen. So I bit my tongue and reminded myself he was baiting me and I did not want to be hooked.

He acted as if I had deliberately dragged him across the divide, but it was he who stubbornly clung to my arm when the Veil opened up. And he had been punishing me since with his absurd and tainted perspectives on how it went down.

“You are a completely different person in this place. You act like this at home. The Elizabeth I know understands the consequences of-” I abruptly cut him off, raising my hand towards his face in a dismissive gesture. Rolling my eyes and sighing dramatically, I added a raspy growl at the end for good measure. “Ella is not my home.” Swiftly turning toward him, I caught him off guard, causing him to step back and grant me some much-needed space.

“I don’t want to argue anymore.”

Nor did I have the desire to continue to engage in this conversation with him, not even in the slightest. My head throbbed, and all I wanted was for him to shut up the fuck up and back away from me. His emotional rollercoaster was dampening the cheerful mood I had woken up with this morning. I simply wanted to finish the dishes in peace.

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Retrieving the scrunchy from my wrist, I hastily gathered my long, golden chestnut locks into a messy bun atop my head, securing it with three loops. With the weight of my hair off my neck, which had become a constant reminder of how long I had been trapped in Ella, I felt a small sense of liberation, as if I could finally speak some truth. It was time for him to see things from my perspective. It’s time for him to understand that I was not being selfish, but rather taking care of myself.

“We have to go home,” he said, his voice laced with frustration.

“I am home,” I snapped sharply, my tone biting. I could see the anger written all over his face. It seemed we were both speeding down two completely different highways with two very different destinations in mind.

Was I willing to sacrifice what was left of our friendship just so he would return to Ella without me? At this point, I was starting to think that I might be. I had hoped we could part, managing some sort of warmhearted goodbye. As much as I wanted him to leave, I loved him and I would miss him. Every moment of my life since I was 5 years old has been wrapped up in him somehow.

“Are you even listening to me?” he demanded, his voice growing louder and more desperate. I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my mind so that I could focus. But I was getting hit with wave after wave of his inner turmoil so suddenly I was beginning to feel inside out and no longer knew which were my feelings and which were his.

I wished that I didn’t feel everything so intensely, especially when he was standing so close to me. His emotions were like a rollercoaster, sending me spiraling out of control lately. And at the moment I suspected that he might actually be doing it on purpose, feeding them to me in huge helpings, spoonful after spoonful.

Sadly, it wouldn’t be the first time that he had used my gift against me, so I wouldn’t put it past him to do it again to try and get what he wanted from me. I lost a moment. Was I the one angry or was it him?

My focus returned for a moment as I brushed the pieces of him out of my insides. He must have sensed my return to the moment because he ran his hand through his hair again and chewed on the inside of his lip. It was a small gesture, but it was one of his tells, of course, he was trying to use my gift to his advantage.

He was chewing his lip, those sweet, soft lips of his. I was lost again, and I took a step back. I tried to push the thoughts away, but they lingered, fueling my suspicion of him. And I narrowed my eyes, in study.

It was frustrating how quickly my emotions could swing from anger to desire. He was so irritating, yet so irresistible, and I was always falling back into old habits with him so close.

My heart skipped a beat. I realized I had lost where we were in our conversation. What were we even talking about? Both hands were in hair again pulling the shag of its length from his eyes and holding it into place, resting them atop his head, reminding me of my annoyance.

Oh, yeah.

“I hate when you do that.” he reminded me.

Now I knew for sure that he was tapping into me. I hated it when he used my own emotions against me, trying to control the narrative. But I kept my distraction to myself, not wanting to give him any more power over me. “Go home, Caleb,” I said, trying to regain control over my core as I swallowed hard.

He dropped his hands finally and crossed his arm across his chest as if to shield himself before he bit back, “You’re so infuriating and self-destructive,” he retorted, taking a few steps away from me. The tension between us was now palpable, and I refused to back down after the way he just used me the way he did. And I stepped toward him, filling in the space.

“Me? You’re the one who’s risking your life every day just to prove some half-assed point to me. You don’t care about what I want, you just want to ease your own guilt. You’re the selfish one. You fucking egotistical hypocrite.”

His jaw tightened, and I knew I had hit a nerve. But I refused to let him manipulate me any longer. It was time for me to take charge of my own life. And I was so over his shit.

With a deep breath, I pushed past him, my small frame bumping against his arm as I forced him to move further away from me. He complied, he was too much of a gentleman not too. Besides, my aggression wasn’t meant to antagonize him into a physical altercation. It was for my own self-assertion, to show him that I wouldn’t be pushed around anymore. That male alpha part of him was always challenging me, and it had grown tiresome. His biological excuses for being overprotective and pushy didn’t seem all that gallant anymore.

“It’s my life, not yours,” I spat at him, my words mean and vicious, as I turned to make eye contact, so he could see my truth, “How I choose to live it is not your business anymore. I don’t need you to take care of me. I am capable of taking care of myself. I do, however, have serious doubts about you, you’re the one that requires a babysitter. Go back to Ella, Caleb. You don’t need me to hold your hand. You know your way home.” I could feel him seething from his corner of the room, his anger thick like honey sticking to my insides but instead of sweet florals, it smelt sour, like rotten milk, pungent and chunky after two days of fermentation out in the hot sun.

I wavered slightly, when his impetuosity hit me like a rock in my stomach, unsure if I had gone too far. But then I saw the rage turn to that of misery, and I knew that I had broken him.

For the first time in weeks, I saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the distress that had been shrouded in his anger. I never wanted to hurt him, but I had been so focused on asserting myself that I had lost sight of him.

My Caleb.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I don’t mean to hurt you.”

He kept his silence.

I didn’t know if we could ever get back to being friends again like we once were, it might be too late for that, and once he left it would be too late altogether. I would never return to Ella, and I would make sure this time that the door to the other side remained closed forever.