He'd been there. She could smell the lingering scent of roses permeating the air. She rushed down the stairs like a child on Christmas morning, her heart racing at the thought that he'd come back. His name died on her lips as she reached the bottom, her heart sinking as she saw her clothes neatly folded on the couch, a blue rose and a note perched atop them.
She glanced around the house before moving slowly towards the pile, picking up the rose and inhaling deeply with a soft sigh, not allowing her eyes to stray to the note. After several long moments she settled onto the couch, holding the rose on her lap as she slowly read the note.
She read his words once. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes as she read it a second time. By the fifth reading she was sobbing silently, the tears running streaks down her pale skin. She read until the words were seared into her mind. She searched through the words, looking desperately for a sliver of hope she could hold onto, her fingertips clinging to the small jade kanji around her throat. She could not find it in her to force the hope or a promise out of the scrawling script.
With a heavy sigh she set the note back on top of her clothing, standing and inhaling deeply from the rose. She made her way towards the back door, her eyes spotting his socks and shoes where they had left them before their last evening walk on the beach. She stepped outside, shivering slightly in the cool morning air, walking in his footsteps down the sand.
She couldn't help but smile softly at the indentation in the sand where he had sat and watched the ocean, letting herself fold gracefully into the exact spot, drawing her knees to her chest and looking out over the waves. It was a pain she hadn't experienced before, and one she always swore that she would avoid. Her mother had been right - love was painful and distracting.
She stood eventually, ignoring the odd looks from passerbys as they strolled the beach, wiping her tears and setting a smile on her face, the way her mother had taught her so many years ago. We don't cry, Elana. We don't let them see the way we hurt. We smile with grace and we go about our duties as though nothing is wrong. That is what we do, as women.
It wasn't good advice. The heartbreak would still be there and the pain would always be just below the surface. But knowing that she could push it aside long enough to function and make it from one moment to the next was enough.
She turned to go back into the house, pausing for a moment before turning back towards the water. She kissed the rose gently, stroking it against her cheek before padding down to the waters edge and tossing it far out into the water, tears stinging as she watched it fly through the air and then rest on the waves.
She made her way home, picking up his shoes and socks on the way and stowing them in the closet next to the back door. She made her way into the kitchen, setting water to boil for tea.
She had no regrets. But of heartache, she had plenty.
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