AllFreeNovel
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I don’t move a muscle. I can’t focus my eyes on any one thing. I just sit.
I feel the towel being pulled off of me and then my arms being lifted above my head. Something falls over me and my legs are gently extended, one and then the other. Soft cotton slides up my legs, warming my freezing skin.
A strong arm wraps around my waist and I’m lifted and pressed against a warm body. The soft fabric is tugged over my hips and butt until it rests on my waist.
I’m gently laid back on the bed again and then the warmth disappears. I stare at the ceiling fan and the blades spin slowly, a low whirring sound filling the room.
“Sit up, baby.” Roman pulls my attention away from the swirling and helps me to sit.
He climbs on the bed and settles behind me. I feel his fingers in my hair and a brush combs its way through my wet strands.Gentle swipes from my scalp to my ends continue one after the other.
Another minute passes when I feel his arms circle around my shoulders and his face lays on my shoulder.
“I'm so sorry, baby. Please. Please forgive me. Don’t leave,” he cries.
I shake my head giving him the only answer I can manage.
“I’ll fix this. I promise. I’ll give you the space you need but I refuse to let you go.”
I swallow the hard lump in my throat and pry my lips apart. “It’s not up to you anymore. You lost the right,” I croak.
He hugs me tighter to his chest like he can stop me from leaving. His sobs start to spill from his mouth and it breaks my heart.
This big, tough man who I’ve never seen shed a tear is losing himself completely in my arms. I feel the depth of his pain because it’s my pain, too.
when we love, we love hard. Our highs are so high. But when we fight, we break each other piece by piece. We sling words like bullets, hitting where it’ll do the most damage. We just can’t continue to kill each other slowly.
“I need…” I don’t know what I need.
I need coffee. I need space. I need our life back. I need to feel that soul crushing love that was there before. I need for this to have never happened.
I push out of his arms and scoot off the bed. My face is wet and I realize I’m crying. I wipe away my tears and walk downstairs. I don’t hear him following behind me.
In the kitchen I find a plate of fruit and toast, and a mug of now cold coffee sitting at the table for me. I pick up the mug and walk it to the microwave to warm it.
The ding sounds and I open the door to remove it. It already has my one sugar and creamer in it —I can tell— so I take it over to the couch, bypassing the food.
I sit and sink into the plush cushions. My gaze moves around the room, taking in all the little things that say a family lives here.
Pictures litter the bookcase. Roman and I holding the twins after they were born. The four of us huddled together, admiring a pink faced and crying Poppy. Our first vacation to the beach. Hunter, Helene and Poppy sitting in the sand, their little faces kissed by the summer sun.
Poppy’s face smeared with chocolate, her green eyes and curly black hair a shocking contrast. The twins smiling with backpacks too big for their bodies hanging from their shoulders on the first day of kindergarten.
A crystal frame showcasing a young bride and groom, smiling with fresh love in their eyes, completely blind to the heartbreak that lay ahead.
It’s all here. Our life in photos.
My eyes roam until I find myself staring out the windows. The morning sun shines across the street just outside where Hunter and Helene learned to ride their bikes. Visions of Roman hustling down the street, one hand on the back of each bike, guiding our babies as they peddled their feet. All before work became his priority.
“Luna.”
I spin around to find Roman standing just inside the living room. His body is tense and he looks like he’s afraid to move an inch towards me.
I don’t say a word. I just stare, memorizing every line, every wrinkle, every hair on his head. His every feature is branded into my brain, but I still soak up all the little details that will change over the years. The years we will spend apart.
He takes small, slow steps towards me until he’s right next to me. He sits on the cushion beside me, close enough that I can smell the sandalwood of his body wash from his shower. His hair is still damp and his soft curls are messy.
“Baby. Your coffee is cold,” he says and pulls the mug from my hand. “Let me get you a fresh cup.”
