For The One(136)

She came over and sank down on the edge of my bed. “Oh, draga moja.” She pushed my hair back from my face. “I’m sorry. It didn’t end well?”

I shook my head, suddenly and inexplicably close to tears. My lip trembled and I bit it. That ache returned with a vengeance.

“Come here,” she said, waving for me to sit up, which I did. Then she took me in her arms and held me tight. “Do you want to talk?”

Now I was sobbing—for the first time since the day William walked out the door, declaring us a “mistake.” I expelled a long breath, letting the tears flow this time instead of holding them back. I was with my big sister and it felt good. It felt safe.

“Maja, I love him so much. I just want it to go away. I can’t help but wonder if it will ever feel better.”

“It will get better with time. It’s still new and raw. I know it’s hard to believe that now.”

Like with Brock. I still loved him, but that crippling pain I felt after his death had eased with each passing year until he’d become a sweet, aching memory.

Would it be that way with William someday? More importantly, did I want it to be? Wishing for the pain to go away was a double-edged sword, because it would be wishing for these feelings to fade, too. And these feelings, though they hurt—they stabbed—they also made me feel alive.

Weeks passed and the wedding approached. Maja and Sanjin would be married in a cute little sixteenth century church not far from the neighborhood where my family resided. Their humble apartment was located in a middle-class section of Sarajevo amongst a mixed population of Serbs, Croats and Bosniaks. As such, there was a Roman Catholic church, an Eastern Orthodox church and a mosque all in close proximity.

The night before the wedding, I visited the church where Maja would be married. It was quiet, serene and aglow with flickering candles. It smelled of old incense, desperate prayers, crumbling stone and ancient dust that no doubt remained untouched in high places that no cleaner could reach.

As I sat on the pew staring up at the glittering altar, I wondered about my belief in soulmates. Was Maja about to marry hers? Had I lost mine seven years ago in a random car accident?

Was I destined to go through this life alone?

Maybe William was right. Maybe our coming together was a mistake. But if so, it was the sweetest mistake I’d ever made. And though I ached every time I thought of him, I’d never regret the time we spent together.

I just hoped that there’d be a way to start over again. Because right now, it was looking pretty bleak.

Our relationship had flared, burning bright and hot for a short period of time. It had blinded us. Blinded me from reality. And now here I was sitting in a cold church halfway around the world, pondering if I’d ever see him again.

My sister was a beautiful bride. The morning of the big day, our aunt fixed her hair and make-up, and afterward, we helped Maja into her exquisite dress. When Baba’s tiara was placed on Maja’s head beneath the veil, it gleamed in her dark hair.

But damned if I couldn’t look at that tiara and not think of William and all he had done to get it back for me. The emotions clamped around my throat, choking me as I dressed in my own beautiful gown to stand up with my sister.

I wore seashell pink satin and was the only bridesmaid, with our little cousin wearing a darker shade of pink and acting as the flower girl. As we walked to the church—a short distance down the street—neighbors called out their well wishes, and I held up Maja’s train to keep it clean.

Several hours, and one very thorough wedding mass later, Maja and Sanjin were husband and wife. And I was exhausted. After handing my sister her bouquet, they began to walk back down the aisle and everyone clapped and cheered.

I immediately fell into the nearest pew to take a load off my feet. The guests had all been able to sit down during the mass, whereas I’d had to stand and kneel repeatedly.

From the pew, I lifted my head to stare at the painted murals on the ceiling of the church while it emptied of people. I’d join them in a few minutes, after I’d had a chance to catch my breath.

“Janjica? Are you coming?” Mama asked.

I continued to stare at the ceiling. “Yes, I’ll catch up. Go, enjoy! And make sure you get in some of the pictures, Mama!”

She grumbled something about not wanting photographs taken of her and then turned and followed the remaining stragglers. Just as I heard her nearing the exit, I sat up suddenly, remembering that I’d left my gift in a bag at home.

I turned. “Mama, can you—?”

I froze, certain my eyes were playing tricks on me. There was a tall, handsome man standing behind Mama who was a dead ringer for William. Though I knew it was some sort of illusion, my heart started palpitating anyway.