Emma

He called again. This time, he had better information. In exchange, he had asked for an even bigger amount of money. Emma bit her lower lip, thinking hard about what she could do. On one hand, the man had proved himself to be useful, really useful to be honest. But on the other hand, the question remained—why was he helping them?

Emma was not stupid. She might have been driven by her emotions, and too impulsive but that did not mean she could not spot lies. And that was what he did the last time. He called himself Nadir, but when she went investigating she found his many faces. Most importantly, she found a shocking fact, Nadir and David were good friends in their fifties.

It could have been more than friendship, judging from the photograph the private investigators found in his room. The look in his eyes as he stood on a bridge with David was not that of just a friend. It was the look of a lover. She could recognise that longing anywhere. Emma had seen that look very closely and heard the thoughts that went on behind that look.

Life was just crazy at times. Who knew she would fall for the same person whom she hated? And who knew why Nadir was helping them?

"It cannot be just the money. He looked too passionate for that," she said finally to her lover. The beautiful woman was scribbling something in her journal under the lamp. It was a gift from Emma for this sole purpose– so that she could write whenever she wanted without waking Emma up.

"It might be out of spite. He was in love with David but David left him, just like he did with his other lovers." she went on writing without raising her face. Emma missed her, even though she was sitting right beside the bed.

"I never really understood how people do that. Once you love someone, you just continue loving them. Even when they are not with you anymore, you don't just become a villain in their story, right?" Emma rested her head over her hand and watched her girlfriend writing. "If I ever break up with you, would you hate me?"

Finally, she stopped writing. Emma knew what was coming next. She had done something that was preparing the bed for a fight. Let there be a fight, Emma thought. At least then she would get to talk to her the way she wanted. Face to face, without pretending that everything was alright, and would be alright. Being a complete bitch who'd hit or curse her girlfriend without harboring the fear of breaking down.

"Why would you say that?" she asked frowning as if she had seen something ridiculous in the room.

"I want to know. What would you do if I break up with you? Would you hate me, curse me? Would you hit me? Leave me for good? Try to harm me as Nadir is doing to David?"

"Ems, you know we don't use that word." Emma could not believe how patronising that sounded. Did she hear herself? Did she realise how it made Emma feel?

"But we are a couple, right? Couples talk about break up. It's not abnormal," Emma pressed. She wanted a response today.

"They do, but we don't. We promised, Ems." She went back to her writing as though nothing had happened. It was not a big deal. Emma loved her with all her heart and soul. But in that love, there was a small resentment hiding in plain sight.

She took a deep breath to prepare herself for whatever she was going to do next. "I don't remember making any such promise. It was you who stopped talking about break up. The thing is, if we are normal then we should talk about normal things."

"And how is THIS a normal topic to talk about? We are not sixteen anymore Ems, this kind of discussion are made in teens when you first fall in love. We are much grown, don't you think? We have grown up as people and as a couple. Why are we talking about it then?" Zahara, still calm and poised, answered a little louder. She rubbed her temples in frustration, although Emma knew she would try her best to hide her frustration.

"Look, if there is something else bothering you, then let us just talk about that. Not this foolish and childish topic."

Emma sniffed and yelled, "You think I am foolish and childish now?"

Zahara was taken aback. She definitely did not want the discussion to go to this direction. "I did not call you childish and foolish, I meant this topic. After being in a relationship for more than twelve years, how could you ask me that?"

"What is so wrong about it? People do talk about silly things even after twenty-five years of a relationship. I have seen my parents do that. Call them foolish now, will you?" Emma felt invigorated, finally having something to do with no pretenses. "Since you don't want to talk about break ups, let us talk about something else that we don't talk about. What about taking a trip? Since when have you been postponing that? And for what, chasing a mirage?"

"Don't go there. You know it is not a mirage." Zahara stopped writing and shut her journal. She slammed it on the table and stood up, looking for something.

"What are you looking for?" Emma frowned and sat up properly in her bed. "What is it?"

"I am looking for my jacket. I am going out."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to do this with you. I need air." she found her jacket finally, lying around on a chair near the window.

Emma felt something shifting inside her. She was escaping the fight. "You're doing it again." Zahara did not answer and continued buttoning up her jacket. Over the jacket, she chose a red scarf to wear, the one Emma bought last year as an anniversary gift. "You can't just run away every time we have a discussion."

"This is not a discussion. You're clearly aiming for an argument, and I will not fight with you."

There it was. "Why not? Why won't you fight with me?" Emma shouted forgetting everything about manners and decency.

"You know the reason. I will come back when both of us are sober enough to be together." Zahara opened the door and stepped ot.

"I swear by god, if you take another step out you will find me dead when you return. I will take all the pills and release you from this shit."

Zahara felt her blood going cold. Emma had the temperament of committing something like that. She wanted to avoid a fight exactly to avoid this kind of thing. "You wouldn't," she said.

"Oh, yes. I most certainly will. So get yourself back here and talk to me. Why wouldn't you talk to me?"

"You're not talking. You're fucking fighting. You know very well how it will end. Just a little bit of stress can make you sick. You know everything, Ems."

Emma knew, but she also knew that she wanted to breathe like a normal person for a while. "That's it. Stop acting like I am a porcelain doll and about to break. I am still that same person and I am perfectly capable of —"

"Only you're not." Zahara cut in and came closer. "You may be the same person inside but your health is not like before anymore. Don't you see how hard we all are trying to handle this situation and bring everything back to normal?"

Emma snapped viciously. "You mean trying to fix me? I am not broken or anything, Zahara, I am sick. This IS normal. Why can't you just take it like the normal person you are." The sarcasm behind the comment didn't go unnoticed. Zahara's face hardened.

"Where are you going with this, Emma?"

"I want to stop now. I don't want to talk to Nadir anymore. I don't want to go looking for David Maxime anymore. I want to stop here and accept everything with decency. It is time that we stop." Emma felt her eyes moistening, but she kept her head high.

"Emma?" Zahar had lost her words. She didn't know how to respond to what Emma had just proposed. From the way she had said it, and the hints she had been dropping for a while, Zahara knew it was not just a suggestion. She had been feeling this way for a while now.

"Z, let us go for a trip somewhere we have never been before. Somewhere nice, with no crowd, and just stay there for a while. We both know what is coming for us, so let us just accept it like mature people. This would be the real mature thing to do, not avoiding talking about the difficult things."

Emma sniffed, and continued, "You know, we have not sat together since we started looking for David. He is cursed, and so are most of the other people associated with him. Do you really want us, me, to go anywhere near that man? Or get into the cursed scene?"

"Everything alright, girls?" the portly, middle-aged lady from the next door knocked on the door and asked in a concerned voice.

After three hours, around midnight, Emma felt the bed dip behind her. Zahara held her tightly as she faked sleep. She could feel Zahara crying silently. Her heart broke again.