Ethan felt the weight of his decisions crushing down on him as he stood in the bedroom doorway observing Sarah's delicate shape as she lay in bed. Unable to endure the prospect of losing her, he had driven her into this life and taken away her independence. Instead of keeping her safe from the perils of his world, he had imprisoned her in a golden cage. She had desired protection.
His footsteps silent on the soft carpet, he moved to the bed. The gentle shadows created by the bedroom lamp show the lines of anxiety that dogged Sarah's otherwise flawless features. She seemed so little and delicate, and it set him on a fury he was not sure he could control. Not at her but at himself.
Careful not to wake her, Ethan settled on the side of the bed. His hand light as a feather, he reached out to sweep a strand of hair away from her face. She moved slightly, her forehead wrinkling in pain even as she slept. Seeing it set something inside him, an ache buried deep in his chest broke something.
When she signed the paper, the resignation, he had seen the terror in her eyes and done nothing to help her relax. She was the one paying the price; he had grabbed what he wanted without thinking through the expenses. She was lying here, so defenseless, so exposed to the hazards he had brought into her life; he was responsible for this.
Haunted him was the recollection of that day in his workplace, of her looking at him as like he were a monster. All he had done was make her a target; he had thought he could save her by marrying her, by keeping her near. And now her misery stemmed from his conceit and selfishness.
Ethan tightened his hands, the fury erupting once more. To believe he could protect her from the gloom all around her, he had been a fool. Though all he had done was remove her freedom, her happiness, he had wanted to give her the world.
Ethan realized he had to straighten things up as he sat there watching her sleep. Though he could not reverse his faults or restore the past, he could fight for their future—one in which she would be free and happy. He would guard her from inside as much as from the hazards outside.
Ethan dropped down to softly kiss her forehead. "I'll do better," he said gently, his lips brushing against hers. Sarah, I promise. I'll rectify this.
He spent a lot of time at her side, keeping an eye on her while she slept. Ethan's thinking was anything but even if the outside city was dark and silent. He set himself on discovering a
means of safeguarding her, of giving her the life she was due. For now, though, all he could do was wait, hope, and pray she would heal so they may go forth together.
The cold evening air greeted him like an old friend as he at last stood and returned to the balcony. He gazed out at the metropolis, his will hardening with each inhaled. Though he had made a horrible mistake, he refused to let it define them. He would battle for Sarah, for their future, and he would not stop until she was happy and safe.
She was his, thus he would do whatever it needed to guard what was his—even if it meant facing his worst sides of himself.