The Right Way To Say It

Once upon a time, there was a girl called Ella. At twenty-nine years of age, perhaps girl was not the right way to say it. However, Ella refused to accept that she was now an adult forced to make her own decisions. She worked from 9 to 5 on weekdays, she paid her own rent and groceries, and she made her own irresponsible and totally unnecessary purchases every now and then (like January’s cooking books that now collected dust, waiting for her to begin her new year’s resolution). But she refused to acknowledge she was no longer a doe-eyed high school student dreaming about all the riches and fame that would someday come and were yet to arrive.

One of her wishes did arrive, though: Daniel, the brown-eyed boy who brought sweet-scented flowers whenever the old ones dried out and took her out to sunny picnics for their monthiversaries. Arrive may also not be the best way to say it. After all, Daniel became part of her life after hours, days, weeks, and months of swiping, chatting, gasping her hopes up, and sighing them out whenever she got ghosted.

“I promised myself if his date did not work out, I would delete all the dating apps,” Ella would always tell her friends, who would laugh in response. She then would get that sparkly, rose-colored glint in her eyes whenever she thought of her boyfriend’s sweet smile and hiccup-y laugh. “But it finally worked.”

And worked it had.

Or had it?

That was the question her mother always texted her whenever they messaged each other. Ella’s mom was not a person who gifted trust away, and her weariness of Daniel had started to plague Ella’s thoughts during work. Especially considering she was not a girl, but a woman who had to make her own decisions. And that involved deciding if she was dating a good man.

Three months had passed since Daniel asked her to become official (so unlike the situationships she’d endured before him). So far, no red flags.

He was unafraid of showering her with affection, of introducing her to his friends and family, of opening up his fears and dreams to her and of receiving hers. He believed in the causes she believed in, laughed at the things she laughed at. His quirks were adorable to her, and he could not help but squeeze her into a warm hug whenever one of her own quirks made an appearance. He found her beautiful just as she was, and she found him handsome just as he was. They broke out into random dances right after engaging in intellectual conversations. They enjoyed bittersweet iced coffee under the sun with a book in hand right before their scheduled The Office watch dates, the ones she had to squeeze between her busy work weeks and the ones he graciously waited for. They loved the sound of their joint silence as much as their loud, excited conversations about anything and anywhere. They'd even had their recent multi-day, have-to-take-a-flight trip and it had gone more than wonderfully.

But Ella had seen enough of You and heard an embarrassing amount of true crime podcasts to know that things were never as perfect as they seemed to be with Daniel.

And so she started noticing little things.

Like that one time he was focused on his phone during their afternoon walks, half-listening to her recount of the day.

“What are you watching?” she had asked, straining her neck to look over his broad shoulder.

“Nothing important,” he stammered, stuffing his phone in his pockets with one clumsy move.

And then that other time in the morning after the daily alarm ringed through Ella’s ears and woke her up.

“Baby, you’re gonna be late for work,” Ella whispered, gently scratching Daniel’s back.

He could only produce a groggy response, cocooning his head underneath a pillow.

“Did you not sleep well?” Ella asked with a gulp. “Was it my snoring again?”

“No, I was just… doing something. Nothing important.”

Nothing did not seem like the correct way to put it, especially after what happened that other time: the Saturday he did not respond at all.

How was your day? she texted the Sunday after, trying not to sound accusatory but still inquiring to dispel her worry.

Nothing, just chilling. Rough week.

Nothing. Again.

The Monday after, he knocked the door to her apartment once work was done and expressed his intent to stay over. Instead of the one usual bag with his work and sleep items he always brought, though, he had two.

“What’s in there?” she asked, pointing at the heavy-looking, red drawstring tote.

“Nothing,” was his nonchalant response.

As he served himself a glass of ice-cold water, Ella observed a blunt-looking figure making the bag bulge. It resembled a weapon.

With a gasp, Ella snapped her head towards Daniel, who now asked, “Do you have any knives that aren’t plastic, by the way?”

Ella felt as if she had swallowed sand. “What?”

“Nevermind,” he mumbled, walking past her and towards the bathroom. “Let me take a quick shower and then I’ll be out to cuddle.”

The door creaked as it closed and the sound of her shower’s sudden burst of water made her jump.

“I have to go to bed early again, baby! I’ve got some patients tomorrow that require lots of focus!” came his echo of a request.

And as if on cue, his phone lit up with a message: You’re still on for tonight, right? Don’t back out on me.

She ran and tripped to the counter, hoping to see the message’s sender. But when she clutched the device in her hands, the screen had gone black and it was impossible to re-read the message without unlocking.

He had been too good to be true.

It was hard to go to bed that night. While she normally fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow, she had to pretend to breathe heavy and relax her shoulders, hoping he didn't notice the lack of snoring. But she’d been clenching her teeth, gripping the Stitch plushie Daniel had gifted her as if she was holding on to a lifesaver in her ocean of fear. After all, she was sure Daniel was ready to kill her.

Daniel. Was that even his real name?

Seconds felt like hours, and at some point of the night, when the neighbors stopped producing noise upstairs and the crickets became louder, she felt him budge. Anxiety crawled to her neck. She felt him leave the bed as silently as a cat, and she felt his warm breath as his face inched closer to her, inspecting her, maybe determining if she was truly asleep before getting out whatever weapon he had brought-

The door creaked open; Daniel whispered a curse.

It took a millisecond for Ella to peel her eyes wide open. She waited a few minutes for them to adjust to the darkness as she heard him searching through the kitchen. She waited another few minutes as her breathing calmed and she heard his steps in the adjacent living room. She waited another minute of complete silence to will her body to move.

Ella tiptoed her way to the door, her sweat cold. He had left it open. She remembered all the times her mom told her about perfect boyfriends who turned out to be killers, why she should never let a man into her house until years had passed by and they were ready to get married. She always dismissed those concerns as her mother’s own traditional values speaking.

But maybe it had been motherly instinct.

She felt the cold wooden floor as she tiptoed out of her room.

“I’m ready,” she heard Daniel whisper to someone.

She felt like collapsing and crying. But she had to go on. The apartment was pitch dark, and she regretted not getting a dog when her mother had implored her to.

There was only one source of light. One source of light that projected two shadows on the patch of the floor illuminated by moonlight.

Ella was so silent, and for the first time, she understood why some people in the horror books she read were afraid that their heartbeat would be too audible.

Just do it, she told herself, realizing how useless it was to cower behind a wall and wait for her death. He was much taller, much stronger, and he had a friend, and-

“Oh my God!” she screamed, covering her open mouth with her clammy hands as she jumped into the living room and discovered the most ghastly scene.

She did not find two killers, as she thought she would. The shadows had been distorted games of the light that illuminated the most terrifying scene -the light that came from Daniel’s laptop.

“I can explain,” he said, jumping out of the couch, a broken plastic knife in his hand. The other half was stuck in a cold jar of peanut butter that sat next to pieces of bread arranged on the coffee table. The mysterious red tote bag leaned against the table’s legs, open with more peanut butter jars.

“Daniel, everything good?” came a man’s voice through the phone -Daniel’s friend’s, Ramesh.

Ella and Daniel’s eyes met. She shook her head, stepping back. “No…”

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he said, stepping forward.

She pointed a stern, accusatory finger at the laptop on the couch. “You’re watching The Office without me?”

“Baby-“

“Tell me: how long has this been going on?”

“Ella-“

“For a week now,” Ramesh said, holding back his laughter.

Ella gasped. “Is that why you haven’t been sleeping? Is that why you have been so withdrawn?”

Ramesh released a cackle.

“What episode are you on?”

Daniel ran a shaking hand through his dark, tussled hair.

“We’re starting the final episode,” Ramesh told her, before hanging up.

Ella pouted. “We- I am still on season 2!”

“Look, I needed to know if Jim and Pam got together, and then Michael and Holly-”

“This was our thing.”

Daniel sighed. “Baby, I love you, but I just can’t keep the once-a-week schedule going on and-“ Daniel abruptly stopped, the crickets becoming louder.

Ella’s cheeks lost their color. “You love me?”

Daniel had nothing to say. Even among the darkness, she could see his cheeks glow red. It was the first time he said it.

“I’m sorry,” he stammered, stepping back and turning away from her. “I didn’t mean for that to come out yet.”

And before he could make another move, Ella leaped and hug him from behind, snuggling her cheek against the soft t-shirt that covered his back, taking in the smell of his soap -and even the sweat.

“I love you too, Daniel.”

And I love you was the right way to say it.