AGAROS : The Love Betrayal

« I don't want to go back. »

Chapter V

Petter's POV

— Damn it... I hate having to go to Richet, especially when it's about that girl.

I tossed my sweatpants into the laundry basket and set my phone on the desk. I closed the window overlooking the rooftops, my mind still filled with her image. I was desperate to forget her, that girl, but the more I tried to erase her from my head, the more she came back to haunt me.

I took a deep breath. I didn't want to get lost in those thoughts. If I really wanted to focus on something else, I had to keep busy. Distracted, I pulled off my t-shirt, tossing it carelessly onto the bed, and headed for the bathroom. The hallway was narrow, lit by a flickering bulb—one of those broken ones you see in horror movies.

The cold water made me flinch. It flowed over my skin like a sharp shock, sending a chill down my spine that made the hairs on my neck stand up. I turned off the tap after quickly scrubbing myself with soap, but when I tried to turn the water back on, not a single drop came out.

— Shit, what am I supposed to do now with all this foam?!

I looked around, irritated. It was really not my day. Dressed only in a towel, I stepped out of the shower, almost slipping on the bathroom floor. This wasn't just a shower problem; the water had been cut off in the whole apartment. I shot a frustrated glance at the ceiling, letting myself go.

— Seriously? This is what I needed today.

I didn't want to stay there, stewing in my own frustration. So, without thinking too much, I went to knock on my neighbor's door, Mrs. Devagio's. She was an adorable old gossip, though sometimes a bit too intrusive. She lived alone with her cats, treating them like they were her children. She was over fifty, but she had the soul of the neighborhood matriarch.

I knocked, and after a few seconds, she opened the door with a smile on her face.

— Hey, old lady... I tried to tease her, a smirk on my lips.

— You've got the wrong door, Petter, she replied, winking. I'm not your grandmother.

I smiled. She was right. She wasn't my grandmother, but she had that reassuring warmth about her, that human touch that did me good. But then, a familiar voice echoed from behind the door.

— What are you doing here, Petter, with all that foam on you? Elene's voice.

She was standing in the doorway, her gaze curious, a bit mocking.

I froze. Elene... She hadn't changed. I remembered everything we had shared, but also everything I regretted now. Yet, I couldn't help but look at her, to see her again in this old setting. It pissed me off. Why did she have to be there, all the time, with her ways?

She stepped closer, almost too close, her eyes scanning every detail of my still-damp skin. Her hand lightly touched my chest, but I pushed it away firmly.

— I think I made myself clear, Elene... I said in a low voice, almost painful. I don't want to go back.

She laughed, lightly, but there was annoyance in her voice.

— Don't be like that, Petter. It wasn't that bad, between us, was it? She slid her hand lower, and I felt a wave of discomfort sweep over me.

— Stop. That's enough. I took a step back. I don't want to relive that.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, but the spark of challenge in her eyes didn't fade. She leaned forward, as if she couldn't understand what was happening to me.

— You're so cold, Petter, she murmured, a hint of frustration in her voice. You know I've always known how to make you melt.

I was on the verge of cracking, but I forced myself to breathe. I had to hold my ground, stay true to what I had decided.

— No, Elene. I'm telling you for the last time. My tone grew sharper. I don't want this anymore.

She opened her mouth to respond, but just then, Mrs. Devagio's voice rose.

— Elene, stop bothering Petter. Her tone was firm, almost maternal.

— But, Grandma, I didn't do anything, Elene replied with a mischievous smile, never taking her eyes off me.

Mrs. Devagio insisted, more seriously this time.

— How's your mom, Petter?

That question froze me for a second. I wasn't ready to talk about it. Not to her, not to anyone. But it was like it was pulling something from me.

— She's holding up, I answered, forcing a smile. My heart tightened. The question had dragged me back into that harsh, uncertain reality. I didn't want to relive it every day, but it was part of my life now.

Mrs. Devagio smiled, compassion in her eyes.

— We're all praying she pulls through.

I nodded, a quiet gratitude in my eyes.

— Can I finish my shower at your place? I asked, hesitating.

She waved me in with a warm smile.

— Of course, come in, Petter. I don't mind. Then, before I could answer, she added, Did you hear about the story with the grocer?

I shook my head, irritated by how often this question came up in the neighborhood.

— No, I don't know, and frankly, I'm not interested. I let out a small, nervous laugh.

A few minutes later, I found myself under a hot shower, the warmth calming me, soothing me. The water flowed over my skin like a caress after the harshness of the cold surrounding me. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the feeling of comfort.

When I stepped out, I thanked Mrs. Devagio and made my way to the door. She was there, surrounded by her cats, one curled up beside her. She had a serenity I lacked, but I didn't envy it. It was just... comforting.

— Did the shower help? she asked with a warm smile.

— Yeah, a lot, I said with a faint smile. A shy one, but sincere.

Elene followed me then, without saying a word. At the last second, she grabbed the towel, stopping me from leaving.

— Elene, I'm really done with this. Want me to spell it out for you? I looked her in the eyes. I'm tired of your attitude.

She froze, thrown off by my words. But quickly, she lowered her gaze, as if something had shifted inside her. She handed me a small bowl.

— I just wanted to give you this, she murmured. It's nothing big, but it might help with your training.

I took the bowl without a word, a little surprised by the gesture. Nothing big, but... it was something. A simple, almost humble gesture.

I thanked her in a calm voice, but she had already slipped into the kitchen without saying a word. Maybe she understood. Maybe she just didn't know what else to say.

I took a deep breath and left without looking back.

A few minutes later, I found myself in front of Patty's bookstore. It was strange. The roller shutter was still down, even though it should have been open by now. Intrigued, I headed toward the back. The smell of coffee immediately filled my nostrils. But as I approached the door, slightly ajar, I wasn't ready for what I was about to see. A young man, his body tense, held a gun to Patty's head. His face was marked by fear and anger, and Patty, though calm on the outside, was clearly not in a comfortable situation