The quiet in his office was tomb-like, Kyr unable to breathe while he waited tensely for his wife to speak. The panoramic windows were completely covered by blinds, and the darkness only added to the room’s funereal atmosphere.

Since his family had left, Kyr had not returned to their home. He was certain if he did, it would only drive him crazy, remembering everything he had and knowing he was on the brink of losing it all.

If he hadn’t yet, he thought dully.

Seconds turned into a minute, and still there was nothing.

He almost started to speak when he heard it, that unmistakable catch of breath, and it ripped Kyr’s heart out of his chest.

She was trying to stop herself from crying.

His throat became tight. “I miss you, psaraki.”

Even in the darkness, images, memories, and visions danced before Kyr’s eyes.

His wife at eighteen---

His wife when she was carrying the twins---

His wife twenty years in the future---

“I miss you so damn much.” And this time, his voice broke.

Pollyanna fought to keep her sobs down.

He missed her, he said.

He missed her.

How could he say that? How could she let herself believe that?

How?

The silence was like a brick tied around his neck, dragging him down, but he fought against his panic and forced himself to say his piece. “I promised myself I would never lie to you again, so I wanted to call you…” He had to pause, emotions making him feel like he was running out of oxygen.

Curling herself into a ball, Pollyanna listened to her husband speak, thinking numbly that there was a part of her questioning if this was real.

“I just wanted...to let you know how things have been…since you and the children left.”

His voice was stiff and guarded, his Greek accent unusually thick. He was acting like she had the power to hurt him, and she wanted to laugh and cry at how insane the thought was.

You can only hurt people who love you.

And Kyr didn’t love her.

Her heart ached so hard at the taunting reminder it had her fingers tightening in a fist against her chest.

And then she heard him say---

“I met with---”

Pollyanna didn’t think.

She simply ended the call.

But before she could even place her phone on the bedside table, her shoulders were already shaking, and she was sobbing hard.

That he would think she would want to hear anything about HER didn’t make sense, but it wasn’t what was making desperation claw up in her throat and her body curling into a smaller ball.

It was something else, something as inexplicable – something worse.

I still love him.

I still love him.

After everything, I still love him.

WHY?

Her phone suddenly vibrated, buzzing loudly and rattling against the wooden surface of the table.

It was a text from Kyr, and through her blurred gaze, she saw its preview flashing on the screen, and it had to be the longest message she had ever received from him.

In their eight years of marriage, she had developed the habit of texting him daily updates on everything that was happening with her day and the children’s, and Kyr would always reply with ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ Or when he was feeling talkative, she would receive an “I see.”

And yet now, he was making her phone buzz continuously, the previews of his multiple messages making her screen flash like Christmas lights.

Taking a deep breath, she reached shakily for her phone.

Kyr: I’m sorry for being insensitive, psaraki. But it is only because I have sworn never to lie to you again.

Kyr: It is the only reason why I wanted you to know I met with her the day you and the children left.

Kyr: I want you to know that I only met with her to make it clear that she is no longer and will never be a part of my life.

Kyr: I love you, psaraki, and I always will.

Kyr: I made that perfectly clear to her, too, psaraki. She knows where she stands.

Liar. She whispered the word in her mind as her phone’s screen became fuzzy under her tears.

Kyr: I have many things to explain, and I will tell you everything – anything – you want to know.

Kyr: Just let me talk to you, psaraki.

Kyr: I do not think it is adequate we exchange messages on the phone.

Pollyanna knew he was waiting for her answer, but she just couldn’t…move.

Kyr: May I call you again?

She didn’t answer still, but after a minute, her phone began to ring.

Kyr: Please, psaraki.

After having his call cancelled five times, his wife finally picked up on his sixth attempt, and he gripped his phone hard. “I am sorry for earlier, psaraki.”

He heard his wife inhale sharply. “Don’t call me that.”

Ah. Kyr stared unseeingly in the darkness. She had used to treasure that, used to tell him that it made her feel special to have Kyr call her by a special name even if – and she would always wrinkle her nose at this – there was nothing sexy about being a fish.

“All…right.” His voice was hoarse, his accent thicker.

Pollyanna was remembering the same thing, too. She remembered how, before their marriage, he would prop his chin on her head and marvel at how tiny his psaraki was. And when she would pout, he would ruffle her hair and whisper in her ear, “This man of yours is not like any others. This man finds fish like you very, very sexy.”

She remembered so many things, and the sobs started to build inside her again, because what she remembered were so…good. They were so…sweet, which was why seeing him kiss that other woman hurt so much.

Then he started to speak, and as she listened to the words, it just wasn’t possible anymore not to cry.

“That night, when I saw her, I forgot everything but pride.”

Oh God.

She didn’t want to remember this. She didn’t want to remember, please God---

“And I let her kiss me.”

She pressed her fist harder against her chest.

It. Was. So. Hard. To. Breathe.

“But then I saw you, and I knew I had made the greatest mistake of my life.”

And now it was too late. She wanted to scream the words at him. But she couldn’t. Because even now, it was already taking everything in her just to breathe.

“I’m sorry---” His voice faltered.

A second later, and she realized that it was because he had been about to call her psaraki.

“I’m sorry, Polly. I’m sorry.”

But she could only cry. She knew she was being petty, and she hated herself and him for it, and she could only cry harder because of it. Who would want to be called a little fish when her husband’s ex was a Hollywood swan? And yes, swans were beautiful, sexy, and elegant, but swans also ate fish like her for breakfast!

The thought was so damn silly, she knew it could only mean she was about to have a breakdown. The thought had her fumbling to press the loudspeaker button before letting the phone fall on her bed. Then she covered her mouth and cried.

Hard.

“I’m sorry, Polly. I’m so damn sorry. I’m sorry.” He could only hear silence, but he knew that was worse because he knew his wife well, and he knew what that meant. He knew how she was feeling now, and it was goddamn killing him that he was the reason for it.

“I’m sorry, Polly…” Her pain devoured him, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “I know the words are meaningless…and inadequate…but I am sorry.”

Her silence, her pain, lashed at him, and his chest tightened at his wife’s suffering.

“Please…” His voice stumbled to a stop. He had almost called her psaraki again. Dragging air into his lungs, he tried one more time to speak. “Polly, don’t let the kiss erase the years we had.” His fingers tightened around his phone. “Come back, my love.”

Pollyanna’s body shuddered. It was his first time to call her that, and he had to know it. But she didn’t know if she could ever believe him, and he had to know that, too.

“Come back, my love,” Kyr repeated doggedly. “Come back, and let me fix things.”

But it was like he was talking to someone who couldn’t hear him.

Trying to keep his desperation at bay, he started to speak. Fast. “Let me fix things for you, let me make it up to you.” He didn’t want to waste a second, knowing she could end the call anytime, and so he told her the truth, even knowing she would doubt him.

“That night…I was planning to surprise you. I had an office built for you, and I was determined to stop being a selfish jerk.

“Those years I stopped you from working, it was because I was terrified…” His laugh was filled with bitterness. “I was goddamn terrified it would be like the past all over again. She left me for her dreams, and then suddenly there you were, practically saying the same things she did, and all I could think was had I chosen – no, had I fallen again for someone who loved her dreams more than she loved me?” He stopped, just so he could breathe, and then he added jerkily, “It took me a while to realize I was wrong. There shouldn’t have been a choice at all.”

He waited, but still she didn’t speak, and the pain of his defeat began to bear down on him.

Was he really too late?

His face ashen, he made himself continue, saying rawly, “Come back, please. Come back, my love, even just…” He closed his eyes. “Even only so I could give you the life you should have had if I hadn’t stolen your childhood and your dreams away. Let me at least just do that for you, before you...”

Ah, God.

He loved her so damn much.

So damn much.

And because he did love her, Kyr said dully, “Let me give you the life you deserve before you leave me.”

* * *

Pollyanna came down at a quarter to six in the morning the next day, and the only noise that greeted her came from chirping birds and the softly spoken words from the garden at the back of the house. She followed the sounds and saw her parents standing side by side. Emma was watering the plants while Andrew was wielding a pair of shears.

“Good morning.” Her voice was scratchy from all the tears she had cried, and she knew that she must look like a fright, too, because of it. Her parents turned to her, and she waited for them to tell her, finally.

Finally she was done moping, finally she was done hiding her head in the sand, finally she was acting like a grown up.

But instead, as Pollyanna walked towards them, tears started to glisten in her mother’s eyes, and her steps faltered.

A tremulous smile touched Emma’s lips, and there was no recrimination at all when she asked simply, “You’ve made a decision, haven’t you?”

Oh.

She blinked rapidly. Why was she even surprised that they knew?

Then her mother opened her arms, and she just didn’t think. Pollyanna ran and cried in her mother’s arms. “Thank you, Mom.” She hugged Emma more tightly, and opening her eyes, Pollyanna gave her dad a watery smile. “Thank you, Dad. Thank you for not stopping me from marrying Kyr. Thank you for being okay that I didn’t get to visit you often, thank you for letting me mope and lick my wounds like a kid.” She swallowed back a sob, promising feverishly, “And I swear, I swear I won’t be so weak anymore.”

Emma shook her head. “Oh, baby.” She cupped her daughter’s face, saying fiercely, “You’re not weak.” A grown woman stood in front of her, but Emma could only see the tiny strawberry-blonde angel she had nursed in her arms, and her heart hurt.

“A weaker woman would have turned a blind eye, a weaker woman would have been afraid to lose the kind of lifestyle you’ve become accustomed to.” With a trembling hand, Emma wiped the tears from her daughter’s cheeks, and she choked out, “If there was ever a time you felt weak, it was only because of us. It was only because we loved you so much that we wanted to protect you. And Polly---” She made her daughter look into her eyes so Pollyanna would know what she was about to say was from her heart. “We saw that, too.”

Realizing what her mother was saying, Pollyanna started to shake her head, but Emma said vehemently, “We saw it in him, too, baby. Your husband loved you. Your husband loves you – whether he knows it or not.”

The words washed over her, and Pollyanna bowed her head, not wanting her mother to see how hard she was crying. But her shoulders were shaking so badly, and they knew it anyway.

Andrew’s chest felt like it was about to explode. Unable to bear the way his daughter was crying, he pulled her to him, and he exhaled harshly as she sobbed against his chest. “Cry it all out, baby.” She shook her head, but he hushed her, saying gruffly, “It’s okay. Because with your mother and me, you never have to pretend to be strong. We’ll be strong for you. That’s how we parents are.” He kissed his daughter’s hair. “And that’s how you’ll be with your kids, too, believe me. You’ll be strong for them. Because we see ourselves in you. You love them as much as we love you.”