The Game of Breaking Bones

I leaned against the headboard, sleepless the entire night.

At five in the morning, the rusted iron door let out a grating screech.

Julian walked in reeking of cheap tobacco and motor oil. His left leg dragged stiffly along the ground. His forehead was drenched in sweat, his expression one of utter exhaustion.

The moment he saw me sitting on the bed, he instantly switched to a look of tender concern. He limped over and crouched in front of me, taking my hands in his.

"Why are you still up? Didn't I tell you not to wait for me?"

He pulled a cheap little cake from inside his jacket -- crushed and misshapen -- and held it out with both hands.

"Saw it on sale at the convenience store on the way back. Happy three-year anniversary, Lily."

I stared at the cake, then my gaze drifted to his shirt cuffs, exposed where he'd crouched down.

The motor oil couldn't mask the cold, distinctive scent of oud. It was Victoria Sterling's favorite custom perfume.

On the side of his neck, there was a faint red mark, deliberately concealed under a layer of foundation.

I pulled my hand free from his grip. My fingertips were ice-cold.

"Weren't you supposed to be pulling an all-nighter at the shop?"

Julian's eyes flickered for a split second, then he put on a sheepish grin.

"Boss saw my leg was hurting bad, so he let me come back early. What, worried about me?"

He reached out to touch my face. I turned away. He froze in place, his hand hanging in midair.

"I was delivering food downtown today. Passed by The Grand Pavilion." I locked onto his eyes, watching for the slightest shift in expression.

Julian's pupils contracted sharply. But he recovered fast, even letting out a sigh.

"A place like that -- we couldn't afford it in a lifetime. Lily, I'm sorry I'm dragging you through all this. Once I get my paycheck this month, I'll take you somewhere nice for dinner."

His performance was flawless. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I'd still believe he was a man who'd given up everything for me.

I stood and walked to the sink, splashing cold water on my face. The shock jolted my nerves awake.

"Julian, do you ever regret it?" I asked with my back to him.

He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Meeting you is the luckiest thing that's ever happened to me. I'll never regret it."

I looked at his lovingly devoted face in the mirror, and bile surged up my throat. I shoved his arms away.

"I'm tired. Let's go to sleep."

Julian stared at my cold back, frowning. But he didn't press further, just dragged his "crippled leg" into the cramped bathroom to wash up.

Listening to the water running, I reached into the pocket of his jacket on the table.

Inside was a crumpled receipt.

*The Grand Pavilion -- Total: $2,300,000.*

I put the receipt back exactly as I'd found it.

The next morning, Julian changed into his faded mechanic's uniform and headed for the door.

"Lily, I'll try to pick up some extra jobs today. I'll bring you back some roast chicken tonight." He waved at me from the doorway, beaming.

I watched his limping figure disappear down the street, then shut the door with a blank expression.

I pulled the suitcase out from under the bed and started packing. There wasn't much to pack, really -- the most expensive thing I'd bought in three years was a clearance-rack winter coat.

I left everything that had anything to do with him in that basement. The hand-carved wooden bracelet he'd made me. The photos we'd taken together in this room.

Before leaving, I placed the Grand Pavilion receipt under the glass on the table.

The lock clicked shut. Three years, gone.