Chiara Wilde knew she had made a mistake the moment the words had left her mouth.

“I need time to myself to think about my future,” she said.

She had said those words over a year ago and, at the time, had meant them. Deep down, she still felt that way even though seeing the anguish on his face almost proved unbearable. She expected some demand for an explanation which she was ready to give. She had rehearsed it for fear of relenting and staying with him. After seven years together, she knew she could possibly waiver and comfort him from what she felt he would see as a betrayal. She was surprised by his response.

“I understand,” he said.

She realized that he had not been entirely shocked by her declaration, given her many recent concerns about the state of their relationship. Though he was a wonderful person, gentle and kind, caring and thoughtful, he was not always present and supportive. She had found herself catering to his needs but not receiving the same level of care from him.

And so, the worrying thoughts often consumed much of her waking hours, pushing out other concerns about her writing. The deadlines for her stories, which she often missed, proved too much to ignore. She could not balance her relationship with Jasper with her expanding career as a writer. And he either did not understand the gravity of the situation or did not care to. Though she did not regret the decision she had made, which proved fruitful with three new publications, she missed him.

So, it was a surprise and delight when Jasper called her three days ago, and they talked as if the months apart had never happened. His voice was a balm to her soul, always had been, and she listened to him recount the lost year with eager anticipation. Could they repair their relationship, build on it? With her writing producing favorable results, she was excited about the chance to see what she could make of their relationship. And a little anxious. But mostly excited, especially when he asked to see her. He had some news that he wanted to share with her in person.

Chiara stirred the pot of doro wat carefully, her thoughts emersed in a sea of hopeful what ifs. It was one of Jasper’s favorite dishes which his great-grandmother had shared with her. The aroma of the spicy stew filled the kitchen and evoked images of the past where she shared this meal with his family. When she had mastered the complicated cooking process, her efforts were rewarded with his praise—and his requests for second and third helpings. She could not help beaming as the memories continued to flash before her unabated.

The door ringing shook her out of her reverie, and she turned down the heat on the pot to avoid ruining the stew. She would need to turn off the heat in about ten minutes to preserve the flavor and avoid overcooking. After removing the apron, she stepped out of the kitchen into the spacious living room of her townhouse.

Second only to the beautiful bedroom and walk-in closet to die for, this was her favorite room. Though she had moved in five months ago, it felt like home. She had designed the spacious room with earth tones, including an ornate mahogany coffee table and end tables. The 100” foot flat screen television mounted on the wall next to the exit was accompanied by paintings that were inspired by her writing. As she crossed the room, she breathed in the lavishing aroma of mediterranean lavender emitting from the Febreze plug in.

Chiara opened the door to see Jasper’s 6’3” frame looming in the doorway. She had always thought her 5’10” voluptuous frame awkward until she was held by him. Her slight bulge and thick thighs always bothered her. But in his arms, she had felt wanted and beautiful and safe. His dark brown eyes sparkled with joy in seeing her, and his full lips parted slightly in that way that made her tingle a bit. Until this moment, she didn’t realize just how much she missed his presence in her life.

The movement behind him captured her attention. She pulled her eyes away from his to investigate who could be intruding on their reunion. It took her a moment to notice a figure standing slightly behind him. One thing Chiara knew was that this was not one of his four sisters, for she had met them. They had all bonded well with her.

“Hello, Chiara,” he said, reclaiming her focus.

His voice—she missed the sound of its gentle tenor, the way it lifts at the end of sentences. Almost musical. It had lulled her to sleep many nights.

“Hello, Jasper,” she said, slightly distracted by the woman who moved to his side.

She was beautiful, her caramel color skinned glistened, and her oblong face was framed by straight auburn hair. She stood four inches shorter than Chiara, but there was strength in her stance.

“We need to talk,” Jasper said softly.

He gestured, and Chiara moved aside to let them in. As they took a seat on her sofa, she observed their interactions. The woman touched his back as he entered and now sat with one knee touching his.

“This is Lenore,” he said and seemed uncomfortable introducing the woman.

It was clear to Chiara that they were romantically connected. The what ifs she had dared to imagine were beginning to dissipate. This was not a reconciliation. This was something else.

“Well talk,” Chiara said after taking a seat in the decorative chair. She turned her attention to the woman, and said, “Or maybe it is you who need to talk to me.”

Chiara observed her shift uncomfortably before admitting, “To be honest I am not sure why I am here.”

“Neither am I,” Chiara agreed.

She glanced at Jasper, and Chiara surmised that this was not the first time she had sought an answer to this question. Jasper did not return her gaze or offer a reason.

“Jasper told me so much about you,” Lenore started, then added, “that you broke his heart.”

“Well, he spent seven years breaking mine,” Chiara countered, then added, “so we’re not really even.”

“She has a point,” Lenore mumbled, glancing at him.

The sour expression on Jasper’s spurred her on. She returned her attention to Chiara and continued with a story of how they met, fell in love, and decided to get married. Lenore ended with the notion that she sensed that Jasper may still have feelings for Chiara, which she did not see as a problem.

“I encouraged him to seek you out to make amends,” she said softly.

“Really?” Chiara asked, turning to Jasper for confirmation.

He did not return her gaze or say anything. His silence stung her, and his long absence filled the air around her. How many times had she attempted to contact him, to at least try to repair the friendship they had had before they decided to plunge into the choppy waters of a romantic relationship? They had promised that their decade-long friendship would remain strong even if they could not make a relationship work. She had believed it, but she had been wrong. His disappearance was almost as troubling as his presence in her life. She had begun to question the very foundation of a friendship she had trusted in for years, a friendship that she had relied on to sustain their now failed relationship.

After a few months, Chiara found it better to put thoughts of Jasper out of her mind as she thought he had done of her. It appears that this may not have been the case. Now Lenore was here because she needed to know if Chiara posed a threat to their relationship. She had to look Chiara in the eyes to see what manner of woman she was.

Chiara smiled. This woman had no idea who she was dealing with. If Chiara wanted to, she could have him back. All she had to do was give up more of herself. Which she had no intention of doing. It was nice thinking about the what ifs, but Chiara was a realist. Nothing had changed in the man who sat across from her. She could sense it as clearly as she knew her current path was true and right.

It was time to end this visit.

“I wish you well in whatever you two deem to do,” Chiara said, her words measured and devoid of emotion.

Jasper tilted his head in that way that always made her heart flutter. She fought the urge to smile, knowing that he had caught the smell of her efforts.

“Is that doro wat?” he asked, his smile held a hint of sympathy—and something else.

Jasper glanced in the direction of the kitchen, a look of forlorn etched across his face. In another lifetime, his expression would have elicited joy from Chiara. Not today. Today, she barely registered his interest.

“Well,” she said softly, “I believe it is time for you two to leave.”

Jasper sighed, clearly disappointed, most assuredly about the stew, and stood up. Lenore followed and moved to the exit. Chiara did not walk them to the door but watched them leave.

Chiara sat in her own thoughts, trying to regain balance. The audacity of her ex-boyfriend still hung in the air. It took an odd smell in the air to get her attention. A smile, almost imperceptible, creased along the corners of her mouth. The what ifs that dissipated during the conversation with Jasper and Lenore was then replaced with the clarity she had found refreshing for so many months after the break up. She had made the right decision.

She stood and took a deep breath, savoring the odd smell, knowing the truth of this source.

Unlike her future, the stew was ruined.

THE END