I placed a calming hand on Clyde's arm, my touch seeming to ground him.
"Clyde, it's okay," I said softly. "Anissa didn't mean to leave me alone."
Clyde's gaze lingered on Anissa, his expression softening.
"I'm sorry," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
Anissa's eyes welled with tears.
"Clyde, Iā"
He raised a hand, silencing her.
"Not now," he said gently.
Clyde turned to me, his eyes searching.
"Let's get you to bed," he said.
He swept me up in his arms, cradling me against his chest.
As he carried me to my room, Anissa's distressed face faded from view.
Clyde laid me down, his fingers brushing hair from my face.
"Feel better soon," he whispered.
He pecked my forehead, his lips warm.
With a gentle smile, he turned and left.
The door clicked shut behind him.
I lay there, processing the whirlwind of emotions.
Clyde's protectiveness.
Anissa's tears.
And my own conflicted heart.
I limped down to dinner, my ankle still tender from the earlier fall. Anissa's eyes met mine, concern etched on her face as she hurried to my side.
"Let me help," she said, offering her arm for support.
I leaned on her, grateful for her assistance.
We ate in silence, the tension palpable. The only sound was the clinking of utensils against plates.
I couldn't bear the silence.
"Anissa, I'm sorry," I said, breaking the stillness.
She looked up, surprise in her eyes.
"There's nothing to apologize for, Dahlia," she said softly.
But I saw tear stains on her face, evidence of her earlier crying.
"What happened earlier..." she began, her voice hesitant.
Her words trailed off, and she took a deep breath.
"I was shocked he even came home," she admitted.
Her eyes dropped, focusing on her plate.
"Ever since we got married, he rarely comes home," she whispered.
My heart ached for her.
"It's my fault," she said, her cheeks flushing.
"I...I haven't been able to keep him interested," she confessed.
Her words hung in the air, heavy with emotion.
"I think he might come home tomorrow," she added.
Her voice barely above a whisper.
I reached out, taking her hand in mine.
"Anissa, don't blame yourself," I said firmly.
"You're an amazing person, and this isn't your fault," I reassured her.
She smiled weakly.
"We'll get through this together," I promised.
Anissa's eyes locked onto mine, gratitude shining within.
"Thank you, Dahlia," she whispered.
The silence that followed was no longer oppressive.
It was a silence of understanding.
A silence of sisterly love.
As I tenderly nurtured the vibrant blooms in the garden, the warm sunlight dancing across my face, I sensed an unmistakable presence behind me. The air seemed to vibrate with an electric charge, announcing Clyde's arrival.
I turned, my eyes locking onto his, and my breath caught in my throat. His gaze, like a gentle summer breeze, caressed me, stirring forgotten emotions.
"Moon," he whispered, his voice husky and intimate, transporting me to a bygone era when love was new and all-consuming.
Time stood still as Clyde's smile illuminated his face, creasing his eyes at the corners. My heart skipped a beat, and I felt the familiar flutter in my chest.
But the spell was broken as Clyde's gaze shifted beyond me.
He walked into the house, his expression transforming from warmth to frost.
Anissa, resplendent in a charming outfit, her eyes sparkling with hope, stood poised in the living room. Her face, a canvas of expectation, awaited Clyde's reaction.
Instead, his indifference slapped her like a cold wind.
No tender smile.
No affectionate word.
Just a glacial stare.
Anissa's countenance crumpled.
Sadness and despair clouded her eyes.
My heart twisted.
Clyde's apathy sliced deep.
Deeper than words.
Deeper than silence.