Another Cup of Tea

«I don't think I love you anymore.»

She blinked into her teacup. «Sorry?»

«I don't think I love you anymore,» he repeated, his eyes taking in the sunlight reflected in her hair. She didn't lift her eyes from the yellow liquid, but there was a thoughtful frown on her face. There was silence.

«Is it warranted?» she asked at last, looking up to meet his eyes.

«I should think so,» he said bemusedly. «But you never know when it comes to love.»

«So...» she began, biting her lip. «You've found someone else?»

«No,» he hazarded. «At least, I don't think so.»

«Ah. So it's just me then?» There was only curiosity in her voice.

«It's just-» He ran a hand through his hair and sighed in frustration. She couldn't help but smile slightly; he was a private man, and he hardly showed his emotions like this to anyone.

«That the man at the bookshop is indefinitely more handsome?»

«-that I woke up this morning and realised that I'd fallen out of love,» he finished, ignoring her.

«Quite a let-down, isn't it?» she asked, keeping her voice light. Her eyes strayed to her teacup again. It would probably get cold before she got to drink it, she realised. What a waste. Suddenly, his hand was on her arm.

«How can you take this so lightly?» he asked, his voice sharp. «After all I've done for you – after everything we've shared? Was it nothing to you?»

She winced inwardly. «Of course it was,» she said.

«Then why don't you care?» There was an almost desperate tint to his words.

«Look, I do care, but ... can't you see the absurdity of the situation?»

It seemed like he couldn't. She found it rather funny, actually; he was always so clever otherwise.

«Well, it's seven in the bloody morning,» she said with a strained laugh, «and it's a bloody Sunday, too, and the first thing you do is tell me that you don't love me anymore?»

«It's the truth,» he said stiffly, removing his hand from her arm.

«It would be a good idea to break it to me gently,» she said, swirling her tea, «and at a time when I've got my mind in one place.»

«But basically, you don't give a damn if I leave?» There was hope in his voice, but she wasn't sure what he was hoping for. She thought about it.

«Basically,» she said slowly, «I don't mind if it's what you feel you have to do.»

«Really?»

«Well, I could hardly force you to stay in love, right?»

He sighed. «I want to love you,» he muttered. «I really do, but I-»

«Really like the man at the bookshop?»

«-I can't,» he said, levelling her a glare.

«Right, then.» She lifted the cup to her mouth and drew a mouthful of the bitter, ice cold brew. She was instantly reminded of why she hated tea. «Now that that's settled, I suppose I should be getting home?»

He hesitated for a split second before nodding. «I hope we can still be friends,» he added, as if he felt that something should be said. She set the almost empty teacup on the table. When she spoke again, it was in a forcedly light tone. He didn't seem to notice, which was good, because she didn't want him hurt. «I'm sure we can.»

With that, she got up and left.

On the whole, it hurt her more than she cared to admit.