I stand under the hot water. How dare they gang up on me like that? I came back, didn’t I? I am stressed out as it is, without them adding to it.

I know that I’m strong and stubborn and sometimes impulsive, but even I have my limits. Right now, I want to sob away the last seven months and counting of my life, and so I do.

I sink down on the tiles and cry myself out. My tears dissolve in the water. Eventually the hot water runs out and I’m flooded by cold water. I ease myself off the floor and close the faucet.

I step out of the shower and wrap myself with a towel before going into the bedroom. I find Mark sitting on the bed. I swiftly ignore him, dry myself and get dressed.

“Are you mad at me?” he says carefully.

“No,” I reply sharply.

“Looks like you are.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” I quip.

“We were only concerned, Alex,” he says, his tone softer now. I sigh, because I don’t want to get into that again.

“I know,” I say.

“I’m sorry Alex,” he says again. I take a peek at his reflection in the mirror. “Will you please come sit down?” he asks, patting the bed next to him.

“I’m drying my hair,” I sulk. Mark glares at me in a way that tells me that he means it. I sit cross-legged on the bed next to him.

“I’m sorry you had to think I was dead and grieved for me. I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you, but it was for our own good.” He plays with my hands, and I feel new tears spilling out of me.

“It was horrible,” I tell him. “I felt empty and lost. I thought I had killed you with my stubbornness. I couldn’t even go to see your Mom because I was on the run. I was angry and I was in perpetual darkness. Everything was a mess. I thought I’d never see you again.” I confess my deepest pain. Mark gives me his hand. I rush onto his lap and continue sobbing into his chest.

I’m blotchy and swollen after crying. I have a headache and I’m tired.

“Blessing said you were very brave during this whole thing,” Mark says with pride in his voice. “He told me that you handled it all like a pro.”

“I would be dead without him. He carried me in more ways than one,” I tell Mark. He raises an eyebrow at me.

“He understood when I cried,” I continue. “He put up with my mood swings and my smart mouth. He’s not at all the Mr Sharp Suit we met in that boardroom.”

“Sounds like you two got to know each other well,” Mark says cautiously. It’s a ‘tell-me-more’ kind of statement.

It’s now or never. I pull out of his embrace and look at his anxious face.

“We did…” I swallow. “We did get close. Through my grief he comforted me, and in danger he kept me safe. We talked until the early hours of the morning,” I whisper. “Blessing and I got emotionally attached to each other.”

“What does that mean?” he asks.

“He has feelings for me, and I feel the same about him.” I cry anew.

“So you are a couple now?” Mark squeaks.

I shake my head. “No, we never really spoke about anything like that, but we’ve been …physical…” The last word is barely audible.

Mark inhales sharply, as if I have slapped him. I peep at his face. Tears dance in his eyes and his jaw hardens, as he tries to control his anger and disgust. “Physical?” he says, through gritted teeth.

“We kissed on numerous occasions. We slept in the same bed…” The words tumble out of me.

“Did you sleep with him?” Mark asks. His voice is strained.

“No, of course not,” I say. The words rush out. “We haven’t gotten that far.”

“Do you love him?”

“I…I don’t know if it’s love, Mark. I am not an expert in this department. I’ve only ever been with you. So many things were…are…” I struggle to make sense of this anarchy. “I’m sorry, Mark. I just tried to get through one hour at a time. I never meant for things to be this complicated.”

Without saying a word, Mark stands up and walks out of the room, past Blessing and out the kitchen door. I remember him well enough to know to leave him alone. He needs to process what I’ve just told him. I know I still need time to process it.

***

Tell us what you think: Did Alex make the right decision in telling Mark the truth? How would you feel if you were in Mark’s shoes?