The short story scene that started it all.

“You’re going back to him?!” he questioned indignantly.

The air thickened, as he watched her pack her things, in a mad fury. It seemed like the longest pause.

“You don’t get it, Chuck. I have to go back,” she answered. Her eyes were glazed with tears she desperately wanted to keep in, that she could barely see what she was taking with her . This was the first time, in their three months together, they had ever experienced any kind of awkward silence.

Chuck paced around his studio apartment searching for words. He fought back his own tears, and he grew angrier the more they threatened to gush out. “You are such a cliché, Harper. You know that right? The worst cliché imaginable,” he fumed, his arms gesturing wildly. Harper glared at him, feeling his words like a kick to her stomach. She kept stuffing clothes into a bag, but the stuffing motion morphed into punching. Sadness, confusion and anger twisted knots in her stomach. I’m a cliché? I’M A CLICHÉ? she thought to herself.

The past three months flashed in her head, in bits and pieces. Suddenly, she locked eyes with Chuck. He took a step back instinctively when he caught her gaze. Harper got off her knees, where she was packing, and dropped her bag. She steadily took a breath.

“Not too long ago, we were lying in this bed,” she pointed. “And I listened to you wax poetic about how much you loved me.” Harper began pacing the floor, as she continued, “You said you loved everything about me, all the pieces of me, but those pieces are privileged, and you resent that about me.” She stopped moving and looked directly at Chuck.

“You resent that I am not fully like you,” she realized.

Chuck and Harper were equals, on so many levels, except for their backgrounds. Chuck was blue collar. He worked harder than anyone Harper had ever known. It really was what she loved about him the most. Harper had everything handed to her. She wasn’t born rich, but she was always spoiled.

Her words stung him, like hard rain. Chuck seemed to stare beyond her, not breathing. His eyes narrowed, as he began to speak, “I get it, Harper. I knew from the moment I saw you what kind of woman you were. I would have never imagined you going for me. I work two jobs. I can barely afford this apartment…” Chuck’s voice began to trail off. “I can’t give you the world, Harper. I can barely share what I have, but I would give it all to you. Why did you ever come here, if you knew you weren’t going to stay?”

Harper’s tears began to run silently. She could barely shrug her shoulders. She bent over and swung the duffle bag over her shoulder. Harper walked across the studio, past Chuck, not even looking at him. The doorknob turned, and Chuck felt sick, as if he felt it turn in his heart. Chuck released his tears, as he turned to watch her leave.

“Harper. You’re going back to him.” His words made the air thick. Harper turned her head and took it all in.

“I should have never left.” She closed the door and left Chuck alone.