Page 51 of Time for You
I’m getting him ready and we’re going now, I’m so sorry he can’t say goodbye to anyone but it’s this or waiting until the solstice, which is months away
Henry says “farewell”
Henry was leaving, and Daphne wasn’t even going to get to say goodbye.
Chapter Twenty-One
Vibol checked his watch. “If you go now, you might catch them.”
“Go? We’ve got an hour left on our shift.”
“I’ll cover for you. Go, Daph.”
“But—”
Vibol held up his hand, an exasperated expression on his face. “Do you, or do you not, love him?”
“I—I can’t—”
“Exactly. If you didn’t, you’d say so. So fuckinggo, Daphne, now, before you miss your chance.”
“What will I say? He’s leaving.”
“You’re smart, you’ll figure it out. Now go, before I stop being magnanimous and change my mind.”
Daphne hesitated, her heart suddenly pounding. “I owe you!” she called, feet starting to move before her brain made the conscious decision.
“Big time,” Vibol yelled after her.
Daphne grabbed her bike and started racing down the streets, feet pumping as hard as she could. She wasn’t sure of the portal’s exact location—Ellie had said it wasn’t the same place as before, but she hadn’t narrowed down the location, as far as Daphne knew—so the best place to start would be back at home. She’d just have to hope they hadn’t left yet.
Daphne abandoned her bike, unlocked, at the rack and sprinted inside, not willing to even wait for the elevator. By the time she made itto their door, she was a disheveled, sweaty mess, but it would be worth it if she could see Henry and—
Well, she wasn’t sure what she’d do or say. She couldn’t keep him from leaving and wouldn’t want to, but it felt strange for him to leave with so much left unsaid. She wasn’t even sure how she’d phrase it, but she knew he needed to know how she felt, as clumsy and insufficient as her words might be.
But the apartment was silent. The tears sprang into her eyes as she closed the door behind her, wondering if it was even worth texting Ellie to find out where they were. It sounded like she and Henry had been rushing, so perhaps there wasn’t any point.
A folded piece of paper lay on the table, and Daphne forced herself to pick it up. She knew what it was before she even opened it, and part of her didn’t want to read it, because a goodbye from Henry would be too final to bear. But Daphne hadn’t gotten this far in life by shying away from hard things, so she opened it and read through tear-blurred eyes.
Dearest Daphne,
I’m not sure if I’ll ever get the courage to give you this, but I am afraid our days together are drawing to a close, and I don’t believe I’ll ever quite work up the nerve to tell you this directly, either. Which leaves the written word, and this has never been my forte. For that I apologize, but leaving without telling you the truth seems far worse than exposing you to my inelegant phrasing.
First, an explanation for my reticence on the balcony that morning. Not kissing you may be one of my life’s greatest regrets, and indeed it is already the thing I wish I could change between us. But I’ve had my heart broken before, and I knew that if I kissed you, it would shatter.
When I was still at university, I fell in love with a woman far above my station, the daughter of a duke. I know you’ll likely scoff at that, and I understand, as after living here for this time, I understand why it seems absurd. But where I am from, it doesn’t matter how wealthy one is—if you’re not from the aristocracy, there are limits to how far you can rise. I had naively thought my father’s wealth might be enough, but it wasn’t. I went to offer for her hand in marriage, and her father laughed at me.
A year later she was married to someone else, and I swore I would never risk a heartbreak like that again. That was an easy promise to keep until I met you, Miss Griffin. I’ve never felt this way before, and I know I never will again. More than anything, that morning on the balcony, I wanted you to ask me to stay. I know I cannot, but I wanted it all the same, and that breaks my heart more than you’ll ever know. You’ve wounded me so deeply, I fear I shall never recover. I do not tell you this to hurt you, but so you know, if I am gone, that the feelings I suspect you have were returned, but that it was for fear of breaking us both that I refrained.
I also suspect you will find that unbearably patriarchal of me, and for that I do beg your forgiveness. It may not have been my decision to make for you, but my cowardice won out. Please forgive me for that, and for letting you doubt I felt the same. I love you, Daphne, and I suspect I always will.
Forever yours,
Henry MacDonald
The world spun around her. Henry loved her, and he was gone.
Forever.
