Between Love and Hate

“Wait!” He commanded as he struggled to slip on his tailored navy suit jacket while exiting the restaurant. He pushed his way through the crowd, quickly making his way down the plaza steps, nearly missing the last, “Fuck.”

This was his chance. After having lived with an enormous pit in his stomach for the last month, he had suddenly become overwhelmed with a sense of urgency to reveal his romantic epiphany. Combined with the fact that tonight had been a disaster of epic proportions, he felt as if he would explode if he held it in any longer. But, unfortunately for him, she seemed incredibly uninterested in hearing him out or slowing her pace that endless night.

“Arya…” He pleaded, reaching out for her hand and stopping them both under the sinister glow of the oddly colored street lamp. With distress now etched onto his charming face, he begged, “Please listen to me.”

“Why should I?” breaking free of his grip as she whipped around to face him. Her expression was stern and unwavering, but her eyes betrayed her, filled with the hurt and frustration that consumed her. “I was utterly humiliated in front of all of your so-called friends, and you did absolutely nothing.”

Riddled with guilt, Chan could no longer hold her piercing gaze. She was right. He had failed her, exposed her to the ridicule of his friends and co-workers all night. Sure, he had deflected and redirected a few invasive comments and questions others had bombarded the pair with at the start of the dinner. But, as the night dragged on, he found himself distracted by side conversations and the never-ending flow of alcohol. No longer acting as her buffer, he had left her to fend for herself amongst the sea of prying eyes and shallowness.

Arya stood her ground most of the evening, not allowing their opinions and overbearing nosiness to affect her. She was proud of who she was, a strong independent woman who never allowed anyone to make her feel less than. Everything Arya did or said had thought, time and meaning put into it; and abhorred the feeling of being caught off guard. Which is why when she had agreed to be Chan’s date for the evening, she had made sure to prepare herself for the judgment and criticism she was sure to receive from the elite. Arya had felt well equipped for their looks of pity and tsks of disapproval.

But, when the other guests began to make unpleasant assumptions about her relationship with Chan, their remarks began to break down the wall she had perfectly constructed for herself. To them, it seemed unthinkable that an academic as handsome and successful as Chan could ever date a woman so artistic and unorthodox as Arya. And while yes, it was correct that their relationship was painfully platonic, every reply of Of course you two aren’t together, and You really don’t seem like his type only drove the knife even further into the wound of her inadequacies and seemingly one-sided love.

Arya had been in love with Chan for what felt like an eternity, standing by him even as she felt her heart crumble. And lately, with every infatuation, hookup, and relationship Chan experienced, it crumbled more and more. It had all begun to feel insufferable, torturous even, with the almost constant bombardment of reminders that he would never choose her. She would have never imagined that Chan would be the one to deal the final ironic blow.

“So, what could you possibly have to say to me now, Chan?” she snapped.

“I… um…,” the man sputtered, ears and neck tomato red, the heat of embarrassment having crawled its way up his body from the moment he reached out to her.

“That’s what I thought.” she scoffed and made her way down the paved pathway once again.

“I…” he took a deep breath, “I’m in love with you,” he blurted as Arya continued to put more and more space between them.

He had always been so sure of himself, cocky even, but somehow uttering those three words made him feel like the most insecure man in the world. Maybe it was the unknown, the possibility of rejection, or perhaps it was the fact that he had never really been the type of person to show vulnerability. Had she heard him?

She stopped, she did not turn around, but she stopped. It pained the man to be unable to see her face, to see how she was reacting to his abrupt confession. Was she shocked? Had she already known but decided to keep it to herself? Her silence, combined with the autumnal breeze, sent a shiver down his spine. And with each faint beep of the crosswalk signal in the distance, he felt himself spiral even further into an abyss of anxiety and dread. Did she even care?

She scoffed and shook her head; in disbelief or annoyance, he was not sure. “Really?” She questioned, face eerily illuminated by the green glow of the lamp hidden amongst the tangle of barren cherry blossom trees. She glanced over her shoulder at him, eyes studying him intently. The tiniest of smirks gracing her painted lips as she awaited his response.

He nodded, desperately hoping it would be enough to convince her to turn around entirely, hope slowly seeping its way back into his body. Did she feel the same way?

But his response only caused her to turn away from him again and chuckle half-heartedly.

“Because I hate you.”