Page 47 of Felix and the Spy
“Have a good day, miss.”
Holding the brown paper parcel, she exited the shop, wondering why she’d gone there, of all places. Her heart sank as she gazed at couples walking on the street, smiling at each other. If she’d stayed longer, maybe she and Felix could’ve done the same. On the way back home, she was reminded of their time together at the spring festival, of returning from work with him next to her, slipping her fingers into his when nobody noticed. It all seemed like a distant, alluring fantasy. Amara did not know what she’d do when she went back. She didn’t want to quit her job, but the thought of seeing him every day was unbearable.
Marinating in negative thoughts, she reached the house at the end of the street. She was home. The small cottage had grown dusty and overgrown with weeds while she was away. Amara had spent the last two days cleaning it, throwing herself into vigorous physical labor to keep her mind off Felix. The house had passed down to her after her mother’s death. For the last three years, she’d locked it up, not wanting to sell it or rent it out. It bore too many precious memories.
Unlocking the front door, she made her way in. The kitchen was untouched, as she hadn’t yet gotten to cooking. Laying the parcel down on the dinner table, Amara sat down, inhaling the fragrance of the lilies that she’d brought last evening. They sat in a vase on the dinner table, lighting up the house with their beauty. Slowly, she unwrapped the cold custard pie and gazed down at it. It felt like she was a child again.
The first bite of flaky crust and sweet vanilla custard was heaven. Her tastebuds soaked it up, familiarizing themselves with the nostalgic flavor of her youth.
“Mmmmm….” Amara couldn’t stop the satisfied moan that escaped her lips. Powdered pastry flakes clung to her lips, but she greedily chomped at more, losing herself. Warmth settled over her heart as her belly grew fuller. Food had always calmed her. Before she knew it, she’d eaten the entire thing.
Dusting her fingers, she stood up, coming face to face with a portrait of her mother that hung on the wall. It was covered in a brown sheet, something she’d done before she left. Stepping forward with courage, she pulled the sheet off to reveal an oil painting. Her mother’s soft eyes, round face, and hesitant smile watched her, making her heart grow. She’d covered it up because she thought it would make her cry. Instead, it made her feel relaxed.
“Hello, mother.” She was speaking to a painting. Nobody else was here, so why not? “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”
Her mother’s portrait didn’t reply.
“I live in Sigilis now. It’s a nice city. I’m sure you’d have liked it since it isn’t as crowded as Cadia. You always said you wanted to go see other places.” They had never gotten to travel anywhere together. She inhaled deeply and watched her mother’s lifeless eyes. “I did something reckless while I was there. I wrote letters to someone pretending to be a war widow. Wild, I know. But you see, I’m so glad I did it. Because if it weren’t for that chance, I’d never have met him.” She closed her eyes, and an image of Felix’s misty eyes as she said goodbye flooded her mind. “Do you know Felix? Of course, you do. I’ve told you about him. He was my boss. Well, by some twist of fate, the person I happened to be writing those letters to turned out to be him.” She tried to laugh, but her throat was tight with unshed tears. “Who would’ve thought? I never saw him as a person before I began reading his letters, but now that I know him…I’ve never met someone like him. He helped me get over your death. Only now, I must get over him as well.”
It was pathetic, talking to a painting. She had lost her mother due to uncontrollable circumstances, but she had lost Felix due to her own stupidity. “I came back here for comfort, but I can’t seem to find any. Instead, I regret what I did. I was scared… Being with him has changed me so much. I was happy, really happy for a short time. Then, I was afraid it wouldn’t last. When his son came home and said those things about it, it was like my fears were coming true.”
Tears sprung into her eyes.
“It’s all your fault,” she cried. “It’s because you left me so early that I can’t trust people. I am afraid to fall in love because I know it’ll end someday. When it does, I’ll be back here again.”
She sat kneeling on the wooden floor and sobbed her heart out. “Nobody loves me like you do. I feel so lost without you…I no longer know who I am. He’s the only person who can ground me, and make life seem wonderful and…he’s gone too. I pushed him away. I don’t know how to make it right.”
As Amara cried, her mind sorted through all their memories together. The more she thought about it, the more depressed she became. She had loved him. She still did. And the thing with love was that it didn’t let you go even when you wanted it to.
She looked at her mother’s portrait and no longer felt a sense of loss. It was just a beautiful image on canvas, a pleasant memory devoid of pain. She neither derived comfort nor sorrow from it.
That was when she realized that she had transformed without even knowing it. All those letters, those kisses, those memories had reached deep into her heart and pulled out the darkness until there was no more grief left in her system. Her greatest disappointment had paved the way for the most miraculous encounter of her life. And she had been foolish enough not to see it. Foolish enough to let it go because she was afraid of holding on.
When she ran out of tears, she gazed at the wooden floor. There was only one way from here—forward. She would go back to Sigilis. Then, she’d find a way to make things right. If there was one thing she was good at, it was being stubborn. She just had to be stubborn all the way. With her back resting on the wall, Amara marinated in the silence, hoping the answers she wanted lay there.
Eighteen
Felix
Felix stared at the letter on his desk. It was Amara’s request for a week off. He had granted it six days ago, but there was still no sign of her. Felix had gone to her house the day after they broke up, but she wasn’t there. Her neighbor didn’t know where she went.
Clutching his face in his hands, Felix felt sadness strangle his heart. It was overwhelming. He thought he’d been sad when his wife died, but this was worse. With Isabelle, he knew he’d have to let go someday, but Amara wasn’t his past. She was his future. The thought that she might not return cast a shadow on his day.
It was so stupid to think he could have an affair with her without falling in love. Felix had always been attracted to her. Right from the first letter, he’d suspected that she’d change his life—turn it upside down and make him hope for things he never thought he could have. When she kissed him, he knew there’d be no going back from this. He hadn’t fallen for her because he was lonely. He loved her because she was so unique, so different from anyone he’d ever known. With her, life was full of possibility, filled with emotions he had never experienced before. The future created itself, one shiny step at a time. He no longer dreaded the long years ahead. He no longer feared his pain. He welcomed it. Because in her, he’d found a part of him that had never existed before—hope.
The past week had been spent in a state of anxiety. He awaited her return, yet, he was too afraid to tell her how he felt. All he knew was that he had to change if he was going to keep her. Max was still living in his house, trying to convince him to return with him to prepare for the wedding. Felix didn’t want to go. Before today, he’d dithered, hoping Max would change his mind. But that wasn’t going to happen. If he wanted to be with Amara, he would have to make a decision.
Felix watched the clock strike six before he packed up for the day. He would go home and talk to his son. Then, he’d find a way to get Amara back.
* * *
When Felix arrived home, Rina opened the door. Her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, she smiled at him. “Good evening.”
“Good evening, Rina. Is Max home?”
“Yes.” She was mending one of her dresses, a pincushion, and spools of thread laid out on the couch. Felix stepped in, passing by the regular display that was his home. It looked dreary that day, so dead, so old, so stuck in the past. Maybe he’d redecorate the house once he finished talking to Max. “He wants to talk to you. I’m sorry about what he said. We had a conversation about it, and he says he’s sorry for what he did. He wants to talk to you.”
“I appreciate your intervening on my behalf. I need to have a word with him.” He reached for the spare bedroom door.
