He stares at me and then curls his arms around me, comforting me, while I burst into a quiet sob.
He slowly strokes my hair.
“Do you want to talk?” he asks, and my chest hurts.
Tears start streaming down my cheeks as I slowly shake my head. His eyes are soft. His touch is gentle. He offers me all the comfort that I need, and yet, there’s nothing I can give him.
My blood screams for the other man.
As if I needed another curse.
Another sin.
Another pain.
Another man to rip me open.
Another soul to put me in a cage.
“No,” I finally say.
He wipes the tears away from my face and kisses my cheek tenderly as I wrap my arms around him and hold him tightly.
Half an hour later, I leave the hotel room, my hair a mess, my lipstick gone, and dark circles around my eyes.
Holding my head low, I slither out of the lobby and strut across the parking lot.
Swiftly, I enter my car, turn on the ignition, and back away, heading home.
I roll the window down.
The cold, drizzling rain reminds me of the northern winters. It’s Christmas Eve, and the streets are empty.
Here and there, I drive past homes beaming with lights and sparkling decorations, the silhouettes of people shifting behind the windows.
Sadly, this evening will go down as one of the low points of my life.
My life was never perfect, but there were things I had under control. Despite feeling lonely at times, my emotions were always in check.
I drive home, crippled by sadness.
As the gates slide open and my car rolls onto the driveway, hundreds of flickering Christmas lights fill my sight, greeting me with a display of colors.
It took hours of work to make my house look like a fairy tale. It wasn’t even my idea. It was Harper’s.
To lift my spirits, she said.
A tall Christmas tree gleams in the window.
I step out and brace the top of the car with both hands, a nauseating feeling creeping up my throat.
“You okay?”
Startled, I jolt and turn around. A dark silhouette pushes off the side door and strides toward me.
Not far from him, I notice his bike.
“How did you get in?”