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She looks lonely. Somewhat lonely. As lonely as someone can look who usually commands the centre of attention. Her brown hair frames her face, with a few stubborn locks falling into her eyes. Even if she could reach her from here—metres away, though it feels like miles, like oceans—she couldn't brush them away.
She laughs at something the producer next to her says. Her laugh tears another hole into Miranda's heart. It had longed for this—for her laugh, for her presence. She had ripped holes in it already, months ago. They had. They did this together.
She had made her decision. For her family, for Jack. Not least for Harry, and who was Miranda to be mad at her? When she fell for Michelle, she was already deep into her own divorce. Gracie had understood, perhaps too young to grasp the full impact.
Michelle had been there in those lonely nights. They went from friends who shared each other’s company, who spoke about everything, who longed to touch each other, to lovers. One night, all boundaries broke, and they gave in to the love. They gave in to the longing that had never left her since. One night, that broke all the walls Miranda had built. One night, whose memories still stole her breath.
The same night Miranda pleaded with her not to walk out that door. The same night she felt the first hole being ripped into her heart. The same night Michelle said it was really just for the best. The same night Michelle closed that very door behind her.
Every wound inflicted that night was being torn open again. The wound in her heart had remained open, refusing to ever heal.
Miranda clutched her coffee cup as if it were a lifeline. The warmth from the ceramic seeped into her cold fingers, offering a stark contrast to the icy emptiness inside her. She lifted it to her lips, but the bitter liquid did nothing to soothe the ache in her heart. Each sip was a reminder of the mornings they had shared, laughing over coffee, lost in each other’s eyes. Mornings, where they still were friends. Mornings, where no lines have been crossed. Now, the cup was just a vessel of memories, and its warmth could never replace the warmth of Michelle’s touch.
Miranda's thoughts swirled in a maelstrom of memories and desires, a tempest of longing that threatened to drown her. The room was an expanse of oblivion, the voices around her indistinct murmurs in the void. She was adrift in the ocean of her emotions, with Michelle as her distant shore, tantalizingly close yet forever unreachable.
Michelle's laugh was a siren's call, luring her into the depths of her own yearning. It echoed through her soul, a cruel reminder of the happiness that had slipped through her fingers. The laugh that once brought her solace now pierced her heart with every note, each peal a reminder of the love they had shared and lost.
The clock on the wall ticked mercilessly, each second a stab to her consciousness. Time moved forward relentlessly, indifferent to her pain. Each tick was a reminder of the moments slipping away, moments that she could never reclaim. The rhythm of the clock was a cruel counterpoint to the erratic beat of her heart, highlighting the dissonance between her outer calm and inner turmoil.
Miranda's heart was a shattered vessel, fragments of hope and despair scattered within. Each memory of Michelle was a shard of glass, cutting into her with exquisite pain.
Michelle's laugh echoed again, a haunting melody that played on repeat in the corridors of her mind. It was the same laugh that had once been a balm to her wounds, now a cruel reminder of what she could no longer claim. It was as if her laugh was a key, unlocking a room in her heart that she had tried so desperately to lock away but failed miserably.
Failed, like she failed to keep them together. Failed, like she lost whatever they had. She failed to look away and she failed to approach her. What could she say? Were there even words?
They had talked—well, messaged each other—after that. Briefly. Let’s keep this between us. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Happy Birthday. Congratulations on that nomination.
Briefly. Like friends from school you’ve never seen again. That you follow on social media. That you sometimes hear about from a friend of a friend.
It was never what it should be. Desperation. Both of them too good, too experienced. Both of them knowing the scandal they would cause. Both of them knowing the scandal they caused.
Please come back to me. I am so sorry that I fell for you. Give me my heart back.
Things that should have been said, that she wanted to scream at her. Right now, right here. In the buzz of all these people. Yet she felt like it would be just the two of them. But fairly, that was what she always felt with Michelle. Her whole being captivated her. Kept her a prisoner in the sharp, icy eyes.
Her hands. She sometimes still felt them ghosting on her body. The areas they touched and the areas they left untouched. How she gripped her hair in ecstasy. A phantom sensation that lingered on her skin.
How cruel that the source of her pain was also the only thing that could soothe it.
Each glance was a dagger, sharp and unrelenting, cutting deeper into her already fractured heart. Michelle's presence was a storm, wild and unpredictable, leaving destruction in its wake. And yet, Miranda longed to be swept away by it, to drown in the tempest of her love.
She remembered the way Michelle had looked at her that night, eyes filled with a mixture of fear and desire. It was the same look she had now, across the room, though masked by the pretense of casual conversation. Miranda wondered if Michelle could feel it too, the pull between them, an invisible thread that kept them bound together despite the distance.
The world around her faded into insignificance, the script before her a meaningless jumble of words. Her focus was entirely on Michelle, her every thought consumed by the woman who had become the center of her universe. The distance between them was an insurmountable chasm, a vast expanse of emptiness that mirrored the void in her heart.
She was drowning in the memories of their night together, the passion and intimacy that had bound them so tightly. Michelle's touch was a lifeline she couldn't grasp, her presence a beacon in the storm of her emotions. Miranda longed to be swept away by the tidal wave of their love, to be consumed by the tempest that raged within her.
Michelle's eyes met hers across the room, and for a brief moment, time seemed to stand still. In that gaze, Miranda saw the reflection of her own longing, the unspoken words and unfulfilled desires that bound them together. But the moment passed, and reality crashed down upon her once more.
Miranda’s heart ached with a profound loneliness, each beat a whisper of a love that might have been. As the table read continued, the world moved on around her, oblivious to the storm that raged within. She knew that when the day ended, she would return to her life, carrying the weight of her unspoken love in silence. She longed for the day when the echoes of Michelle’s laugh would no longer haunt her, but deep down, she feared that day would never come. For now, she remained a silent sentinel in a world that moved on without her, trapped in a purgatory of her own making, forever longing for a love that was just out of reach.
Maybe, after all, Michelle wasn't that lonely. Miranda would always be there.
Maybe, after all, Miranda was that lonely. Michelle wouldn't come back.