Haustus, page 2
And that’s when I broke.
The knot in my throat tightened from the inside, as if my words didn’t want to come out anymore, as if my body resisted being heard. Tears began to slip down my cheeks without a sound.
“It’s just that…” I tried to say, but my voice couldn’t hold—“what about me? Is this really what I deserve? To not know who I am. To not know what I want to do. To have never felt loved by a man. To feel lonely… all the time.”
Silence.
Neither of us spoke.
Only that question still burning inside me like a wound without a name: what about me?
“Sarah… have you ever thought about traveling? Changing your environment? Maybe it would do you good… to experience new things,” she said suddenly.
It caught me off guard. Not the words themselves, but the fact they came from her. Carmen had never suggested I do something before. Her style had always been different: listen, probe, accompany me as I dig through my own mind until my subconscious rises to the surface, raw and trembling. But this time… this time she was offering an action. A possibility.
I looked up, confused.
For a moment, the consulting room felt bigger. I stayed quiet.
Travel.
Not escape. Not running away. Travel.
Change the air. Leave this city that’s seen me try and fail too many times. Go somewhere no one expects anything from me. Somewhere I can be a stranger without weight or labels.
The idea seemed as absurd as it was tempting.
But then I saw myself there, sitting in front of Carmen, crying because I don’t know who I am, and I thought: what if I find myself somewhere else? What if what I need isn’t to understand myself, but to live myself?
I didn’t answer yet. Just gave a small nod.
“I don’t know, Carmen… where would I even stay?” I said, lowering my voice. “I mean, I have my sister, sure, but I don’t want to bother her. She already has her own life… I don’t want to put her in the position of having to deal with me.” It was honest. Raw. Like everything else I’d said in that session.
Carmen looked at me with that stillness that sometimes hurts more than any words. She closed the notebook softly, without hurry.
“Think about it, Sarah. Maybe it would do you good. What’s the worst that could happen?” She paused, letting her words fall like stones into water. “That you come back. At least you tried… don’t you think?”
Chapter Three
“You’re joking, right? Of course you can move in with us!” Kaylie said from the other side of the screen, her eyes lighting up and that smile of hers glowing even brighter when she was excited. “Baaabe! Sarah wants to move in with us!” she shouted, turning her head to call for her husband.
I saw her in her kitchen, hair pulled up into a messy bun, a steaming mug between her hands. The space behind her was warm—cream-colored walls, a shelf lined with family photos. Everything looked so… stable.
“Jacob!” she insisted, now wearing that insistent little sister look, the one that demands the whole world join her excitement. “Come here!”
I could see her calling to him with her eyes, as if she needed him to hear this small piece of news that, somehow, already felt like a celebration.
I just watched her. My chest tight, my throat tangled. Because part of me couldn’t believe her excitement was real. And another part—the part that still wanted to be saved—was beginning to melt beneath her simple, unwavering love.
“Kaylie, really… if it’s a bother, I don’t have to come. It was just something my therapist suggested.”
“Sarah Bennett, stop that right now!” my sister cut me off, her voice holding that unique mix of scolding and tenderness only she can use on me.
“I agree with Kaylie,” Jacob said, stepping in behind her with a calm smile. “You’ll always be welcome here.” He paused, then added, in his distinct British accent: “Oh… and hello, Sarah.”
I had to smile. I’ve always liked Jacob. He’s one of those people you trust instantly—not because of what he says, but because of the way he looks at you. There’s something genuine about him, a quiet kindness that never tries to impress. And most of all, he loves my sister in a way you can see. From day one. They met on a trip to Greece, both traveling alone, and according to Kaylie, it was love at first sight. He’s tall, dark-skinned, with curly hair and striking crystal-blue eyes that contrast so much with his skin that sometimes he looks like he’s been pulled straight from a summer postcard. Not my type, but undeniably attractive. And most importantly—he makes my sister happy.
Kaylie, on the other hand, is all light. Her straight chestnut hair falls just past her shoulders, her brown eyes are always brimming with emotion, her fair skin is scattered with freckles that multiply in summer, and her slender frame seems to move with constant energy. Seeing her now, with that huge smile and the spark in her eyes, brought back so many memories… her childish laugh, her shouting for me to share my toys, how she followed me everywhere as if I held all the answers.
“All right, all right… I’ll come,” I finally said, letting out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “But the moment you don’t want me there anymore, you tell me. Promise me.”
They both nodded in unison. Kaylie’s smile widened so much, so innocently, that for a moment I saw her as she’d been at seven years old—bouncing around my bedroom with a doll in hand, happy simply because I’d told her she could play with me.
Chapter Four
I’d been to London before—for my sister’s wedding, just a year ago. And ever since, something in me had stayed hooked on this city. I’d always loved the vibe of this part of the world: everything feels more elegant, more composed. There’s art in every corner—in the old buildings, in the cobblestone streets, in the way people walk with urgency but with style.
I descended the airport stairs, dragging my suitcase behind me and scanning the crowd for Jacob. Before I’d taken off, Kaylie had told me he’d be the one picking me up. I’d asked if she would come too, but she’d smiled and said she was staying home to bake my favorite cookies. Our home, she’d emphasized, putting weight on that word as if to make sure there was no doubt—her home was my home now, too.
That gesture, so simple and yet so immense, had stuck with me more than any piece of advice ever could.
If you’d told me just two weeks ago that I’d be moving to London to live with my sister—with no clear plan, no secured job, nothing truly defined—I’d have asked what kind of illicit substance you were on. But now… this was my reality.
An uncertain reality, yes.
But one that smelled of warm cookies and began with the word our.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I began scanning the crowd for Jacob. There were people everywhere—families hauling suitcases, half-asleep children, couples arguing over how to find a taxi, tourists fumbling with their phones, trying to book an Uber while butchering the name of their destination street.
I wove my way through the bodies, suitcase wobbling behind me, my eyes darting from face to face—until I ran straight into someone.
“Sorry,” I blurted immediately, turning to face the stranger.
And froze.
His eyes were the first thing. Blue—but not like Jacob’s. These were something else entirely. Blue so pale they were almost translucent, as if someone had poured the sky into ice water. Hypnotic, almost unsettling. The contrast against his black hair—so dark it seemed to swallow light—made his features stand out like they’d been carved. A perfect nose, full lips, skin impossibly pale. And he was tall… far too tall. The kind of man who makes everything else around you dissolve until there’s only him.
And his body… well, there was no need to imagine. He stood there like he’d stepped out of a dream I didn’t remember having, but now couldn’t forget.
“You should watch where you’re going, don’t you think?” the man said, his pristine British accent laced with a razor-fine arrogance.
“Uh…” God, Sarah, say something. “I’m really sorry. I’m a bit lost, I—”
“I don’t care. Just watch where you’re going,” he cut in, utterly uninterested.
He looked at me with a flash of irritation, then walked off with smooth, deliberate steps, never once glancing back.
I stayed rooted for a moment, my heart pounding. I couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment—or anger.
What an ass, I thought, watching that flawless back disappear into the crowd.
“There you are!” I heard Jacob’s voice behind me.
I turned just as he reached me, a little out of breath, cheeks flushed from the effort.
“Sorry, Sarah,” he said with a light laugh. “I thought you were at the other exit—ran all the way here. Nearly had a heart attack.”
His tone was warm, his smile a mix of apology and affection. It was impossible not to feel a little more at ease in his presence.
“Don’t worry, Jacob. Thanks for coming to get me… and for letting me stay at your place. I promise I’ll be as little trouble as possible,” I said, trying to sound casual, though the familiar knot of discomfort tugged at my chest.
“Oh, don’t start with that, Sarah,” he replied with a broad grin, giving my shoulder a friendly nudge in that effortlessly genuine way of his. “And please—for the thousandth time—call me Jake,” he added, rolling his eyes theatrically.
We both laughed, finally.
It was only a few seconds before Jacob—Jake—insisted on taking my suitcase. He didn’t give me the option, practically stealing it from my hand with that laid-back chivalry that was just so him. We walked together to his car, and the moment I climbed in, something struck me—the steering wheel was on the right. No matter how many times I’d seen it before, it still felt surreal.
There was no way I’d be driving in this country. Knowing myself, I’d be in an accident before the first traffic light.
Luckily, Kaylie’s apartment was only a five-minute walk from the city center. That was at least comforting—knowing that if I ever felt trapped, I could just step outside and lose myself in unfamiliar streets. Sometimes, the idea of wandering with no destination is its own kind of comfort.
Then, without warning, an image pushed into my mind: the eyes of the man from the airport. Blue, impossible, almost unreal. As if they didn’t quite belong to this world. I’d never seen anything like them… not even in dreams. But then I remembered his tone, his arrogance. The way he’d looked at me. How sad that someone so physically perfect could be so utterly rotten inside.
“How was the flight?” Jacob’s voice pulled me back.
I blinked, returning to the present. The car rolled smoothly through London’s clean, orderly streets, lined with brick buildings and winter-bare trees.
“Same as when I came for your wedding,” I replied with a small smile, trying to push the image of those impossible eyes out of my head—though they still lingered, uninvited.
Chapter Five
When I walked into my sister’s apartment, the first thing I noticed was the smell of vanilla and cinnamon, laced with something else… something warm.
Something real.
Jacob opened the door as if we weren’t stepping into a new place for me, but into something that already, in some unspoken way, belonged to me. Crossing the threshold, I felt a wave of warmth that clashed beautifully against the chill of London outside.
The apartment was bright, with large windows letting in the winter’s soft gray light and walls in soothing shades of white, beige, and sage green. In one corner, a light wood bookshelf overflowed with books, family photos, and small pots of plants that seemed to be living better than I was.
The sofa was wide, mustard-colored, scattered with mismatched cushions and a knitted blanket folded lazily over the left arm. On the coffee table sat a lit candle and an empty mug—probably Kaylie’s. Everything was clean, but not in that sterile, untouched way—rather in the kind of order only someone who genuinely cares for their space can keep without obsessing.
The kitchen opened into the living room, separated by a breakfast bar with two tall wooden stools and warm hanging lights that made it feel like even cooking here would be an act of love. On the counter was a tray of freshly baked cookies—my favorite. Chocolate chip, slightly misshapen, like they’d been made in a rush but with love.
And then I saw her.
Kaylie came out of one of the bedrooms wearing an apron, her cheeks flushed from the oven’s heat. Her chestnut hair was pulled into a messy bun, and her freckles stood out more vividly under the soft light. Her brown eyes lit up when she saw me, and her smile… God, her smile was the same as always. Like when we were little and I came home from school, and she’d run to throw her arms around me.
“Welcome home,” she said, opening her arms.
I walked into her embrace and let it surround me. It was strong, warm, real.
I closed my eyes for a second.
“I made way too many cookies,” she murmured against my shoulder. “You’ll probably be sick of them after the first one.”
“I doubt it,” I whispered, smiling with a lump in my throat.
When she pulled back, she looked me over, her gaze soft with affection.
“You look… tired,” she said gently.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
But she didn’t push. Kaylie had always known when to press and when to simply be there.
Jacob set my suitcase down beside a door at the far end.
“Your room’s ready,” he said with a smile. “We take the ‘our home’ thing very seriously, in case you were wondering.”
“Thanks, Jake. Really.”
He raised his eyebrows as if to say enough with the thank-yous, and retreated to the kitchen to give us space.
Kaylie took my hand and led me to the room that would be mine. When she opened the door, something shifted in my chest.
It was small, but beautiful. Cream-colored walls, a linen curtain by the window that let the light in softly. The bed was made with fresh sheets, a wine-colored quilt, and a pile of pillows in different sizes. On the nightstand sat a lamp, a small vase of dried lavender, and a handwritten note:
“Welcome to your new beginning. I love you.
—K.”
I stood still.
“I decorated it with you in mind,” my sister said behind me, almost in a whisper.
I turned to her, and once again, that damned emotion rose in my throat uninvited. I didn’t say anything. I just nodded, swallowing hard to keep the tears down.
Maybe I don’t have a plan, or certainties, or a shining résumé. But I have this.
I have her.
And for now… that’s enough.
Chapter Six
A little while later, after I’d hung up my coat, changed into something more comfortable, and felt a little less like an emotional tourist, I heard Kaylie’s voice calling from the kitchen: “Tea or something stronger?”
“Do you have wine?” I asked from the hallway, making my voice sound lighter than I actually felt.
“Obviously. This house has enough wine to survive an emotional apocalypse,” she replied with a soft laugh.
When I stepped into the kitchen, I found her barefoot, wearing an oversized gray sweater slipping off one shoulder, her hair still gathered in a chaotic bun. She had already poured two glasses and set out a small plate of cookies. I sat across from her at the breakfast bar, and for a few seconds, we didn’t say anything. We just looked at each other.
“You okay?” she finally asked, her voice gentle, not pushing.
“I don’t know. Not entirely. But also… not as bad as I thought I’d be.”
She nodded, taking a sip of wine without taking her eyes off me.
“And the trip?”
“Long. Full of thoughts. I bumped into a man at the airport,” I said without thinking—and the moment I did, those transparent blue eyes shot back into my mind.
“Was he handsome?”
“You have no idea, Kaylie. But don’t give me that look—he was an asshole,” I added, making a face.
Kaylie laughed.
“Sometimes the most handsome ones are. Or maybe they just seem like bigger assholes because they’re handsome.”
We laughed together.
“Thank you for this. For everything. I didn’t realize how much I needed to be with you until now.”
“You don’t need to thank me. You’re not a burden, Sarah. What I’ve wanted most is to have you close again,” she said, reaching across the counter to take my hand. “Life’s been good to me, and if I can give you a little bit of that, I will.”
My eyes filled with tears, but they didn’t fall. I just stayed there, with the warmth of the wine, the smell of cookies, and her hand resting over mine.
Later, when I retreated to the bedroom that was now mine, I switched on the lamp on the nightstand and sat cross-legged on the bed. I didn’t want to put on music or check my phone. I just breathed.
I let the silence wrap around me—a different kind than the one that lived in my empty apartment. This was a silence full of small sounds: the faint echo of water running in the kitchen, a door closing softly somewhere down the hall, the creak of furniture adjusting to the change in temperature.
I’m here. England. With my sister. No plan.
Suddenly, there were soft knocks at the door.
“Come in,” I called out, just loud enough for whoever it was to hear me.
I heard the click of the handle, and the door opened slowly. Kaylie stepped in first, followed by Jacob, both wearing that conspiratorial expression only people in love seem to share.
“We want to propose something,” my sister said, her voice bubbling with almost childlike excitement, bouncing slightly on her feet and clapping her hands together.
I couldn’t help laughing. It had always amused me how she could be nearly twenty-three and still look like a little girl when she was excited.
