After Angela and Darius's Confrontation in the Alley
Darius continued walking; the quiet sound of his steps synchronized with the deep thoughts swirling in his mind. The cold night air was accompanied by the warmth of emotions that kept swirling through his body. He didn't know where he was going, his feet seemingly having a direction of their own. The city streets were laid bare before him—empty, silent, as if the whole world was breathing heavily, waiting for him to make sense of the confusion in his mind.
Every time he closed his eyes; Angela's face would resurface in his memory. He could still hear the sharp sting of the words she had thrown at him, the pain in her voice that he hadn't expected. How did that happen? He should've known, he should've seen the signs. But instead, he had been too caught up in his own confusion to see what was happening to Angela.
He reached for his phone in his pocket, trembling from the messages he was avoiding. He chose to ignore them. His focus now was on Angela's words—the pain, her absence, the things she said. What was the truth? Had she been hurt so much that she lost the strength to speak?
"No," Darius whispered to himself, trying to push away the confusion overflowing in his mind. "I need an answer. I need to fix this."
He kept walking, the city lights blurring his vision as if his entire body was in pain. He had no idea what he was searching for, or if there was any chance left to right all his wrongs. But what he needed, what he wanted to know, was the truth—the full story. But how? How could he begin when he had no idea what had happened?
A familiar shadow rose in front of him—a silhouette that made his body freeze.
It was Clark.
Darius stopped in his tracks, the weight of the following moments pressing down on him. He hadn't expected to encounter this now, especially amidst all the chaos. He wasn't ready for it. He wasn't ready for the pain—Clark's fist striking his face.
***
"S-Since when? H-How?" He stammered, uncertain, staring at the man he never expected to face in this situation. He knew him. From before. And from before, he never liked his presence.
They sat across from each other at a small table in a quiet café. The tension between them was palpable. Years had passed, but he could still feel the mocking of fate—the man he had once despised was now the one with the woman he had once loved.
"You don't need to know," Clark responded coldly.
Darius clenched his fist. He didn't like that answer. It felt like Clark was toying with his anger. "Answer me, Clark," he said firmly.
Clark sighed before speaking. "Now you decide to ask? After everything you did to hurt her like that? You know what you did was wrong, Darius. You didn't even consider her situation before throwing all those cruel words at her. Do you even know she never wanted any of this to happen? That she never wanted to carry your wife's child?"
A chill ran down Darius's spine. He swallowed hard, feeling a sudden weight in his chest. "What... do you mean?"
"You have no idea what she went through..." Clark's voice trembled slightly, but he quickly masked it with a deep sigh.
"You have no idea how much she suffered; how broken she was when she disappeared. Do you really think you were the only one who got hurt? You're so wrong…"
"That's not true... or maybe it is."
Darius felt a sharp, jagged feeling in his chest as he listened to every word Clark spoke.
"Why didn't I know this? Why didn't she tell me?" But he knew he had no right to ask—not after everything he had done.
"She tried calling you over and over again—do you know what happened? A woman kept answering her calls!"
Darius gasped. "Was that Jenna?"
It suddenly hit him—a call he hadn't answered, a night he'd heard Jenna talking on the phone, but had ignored because of his drunkenness. Back then, he hadn't cared. But now… now it felt like the pieces of memories he had long ignored were slowly falling into place.
"Do you have any idea how many times she tried to reach out to you? Do you know how much pain she went through? Why are you blaming her for everything that happened? Did you even read a single message she sent you?"
"No. I don't remember. I didn't read anything."
He wanted to speak, to explain himself. But how do you defend yourself against a sin you didn't even notice you were committing?
"What was I back then? Blind? Deaf? Or just a coward who didn't want to face the truth?"
Clark's voice was angry, but laced with sorrow.
Darius swallowed hard. He could feel his whole body going cold. It was like the effect of the alcohol that had been enveloping him earlier had suddenly worn off. He tried to search his memory for the things Clark was saying—the calls, the messages. But nothing. He couldn't remember anything.
"No… I didn't receive any of her calls or texts. I don't remember. No matter how much I try to search my mind, nothing," he answered softly. He placed his hand on his temple, trying to figure out how he had such a hole in his memory.
Suddenly, a night came to mind—one night when something happened between him and Jenna. A call he didn't answer, a night when he heard Jenna's voice talking to someone on the phone. Back then, he hadn't cared. Now, he didn't know if that was the beginning of everything.
"Shit!"
Clark shook his head, trying to keep himself together. "No matter what you say, that doesn't matter anymore. What matters now is that you know you're wrong about her. She didn't just disappear. She didn't leave without a reason. And most of all, she never wanted to leave you like that—she simply had no other choice at the time."
Darius stared at him, doubt filling his eyes. "How do you know all this? As far as I remember, she was avoiding you back then. But now, you seem to know everything that happened to her. What's the truth? Did she choose to stay with you?"
"You're wrong in thinking that. If you truly knew and loved her back then, you would know she wouldn't have done what you're thinking."
"I loved her. Didn't I?"
But at that moment, it felt like he had been slapped with the truth. The pain didn't come from Clark, but from his own question—his doubt that he might have been the one responsible.
Clark clenched his fist. "Maybe you're the one who did something wrong to her, you and Jenna, right?"
Darius was silent. He couldn't look at Clark anymore.
"Yes. Maybe I'm the one at fault. Not just with her. But with myself. I chose to stay quiet, I chose not to search for the whole story, and I chose to believe the lies of anger."
Darius froze in his seat, not expecting what he had heard from Clark. The pain in his chest deepened. He cleared his throat before speaking again. "Then why did she leave without explaining? And why you? Why do you know everything? What are you to her now? Are you just trying to make me jealous?"
Clark shook his head, holding himself back. "Don't give me a reason to say that you deserved to be left by her back then."
Darius fell silent. He knew that every word Clark said carried weight. It was true. But swallowing the truth that he still didn't know the whole story was harder. In the brief silence, he took a deep breath and tried to regain control of himself.
"Sorry. I know I have no right to speak badly about her. I know I don't know what's happened to her these past years. I never expected to see her again, especially not in this situation. But I need to know the truth, Clark. What really happened?"
Clark paused, thinking for a moment, before shaking his head. "I'm not the right person to tell you everything. If you want to know the truth, talk to her properly. Don't hurt her again. She doesn't deserve the constant pain you've caused her. Despite everything, she's still picking up the pieces of herself. But remember, the Angela you knew before is no longer the same. She is someone who is trying to put together the broken parts of herself after being shattered."
Darius couldn't respond. It felt like something heavy had dropped in his chest. He didn't know how to respond to that.
Clark sighed and stood up. "I've said what I wanted to say. Think carefully about what you're going to do next. Because with just one wrong move, I won't let you hurt her again, and I'll be the one to stand against you."
And with that, Clark left him, while Darius remained seated, trying to piece together the puzzle of the truth that he was only beginning to understand.
If everything Clark said was true…, how would he face Angela? Did he still have the right to ask? Or was it too late for everything?
He stared at his cup of coffee—it was cold, just like how he now saw himself. He didn't know how to face Angela. But what he did know was that, this time, he needed to listen. Not to ask questions. But to hear, even if it hurt.