We share a laugh, and for a fleeting moment, it feels as though the weight of her psychological scars softens, their edges blurring. I dream of seeing her smile like this each day—not a fragile facade, but a radiant bloom spilling from the depths of her heart and soul.
I long for this beautiful soul to find solace and peace in my arms, to rest there as if my embrace is the safe haven she's been seeking. I want her to think of me in those moments of uncertainty, whenever she needs comfort and love, like a whisper in the stillness that reminds her she is never truly alone.
After she finished putting the food in her mouth and swallows it down, she delicately uses her hand to smooth away the stain on her lips. With a soft, satisfied smile, she says,
"I'm going back to the office tomorrow, but I feel..." She trailed off, her voice carrying the weight of something unspoken.
I acted as if I don't know the story behind her words, gently nudging her to share.
"What do you feel?" I asked, my voice soft and attentive.
She hesitates for a moment, then responds, her tone heavy.
"I feel... procrastination, a lack of motivation. And I'm still afraid. I want to extend my leave until the end of the month, but I can't seem to find a reason that feels right, something that justifies it."
"What are you afraid of?" I pressed, as my words are gentle but searching.
"There must be something, something that still haunts you—something that triggers old wounds, that hurts you in ways you can't quite escape."
She looked at me strangely, her expression a mixture of surprise and caution, as if I've crossed a line. But then, her gaze drops, and she speaks in a low, almost fragile tone.
"You're right. I'm afraid of seeing something I didn't mean to... I can't bear it anymore, if I encounter it again."
I was at a loss, unsure of how to respond, because I don't truly know what happened to her at the office. I want to be precise, to offer something that makes sense, but I know now isn't the time for that. I can't be the one to reignite the pain of her past. I don't want to trigger more trauma. Instead, I wanted to be a part of her healing, a quiet presence, listening without judgment.
For now, I'll remain her patient listener, allowing her to open up at her own pace, offering her the comfort of silence and understanding.
She continued, her voice heavy with unspoken weight.
"If I had a choice, I wouldn't step foot in my workplace again. But the situation now... it's complicated. They say we can't heal where we've been hurt, right?"
"Yes," I replied softly, the words lingering around us.
"But sometimes," she continued, her gaze distant, "we don't have a choice to move forward."
"Yes," I agreed, my voice low. "That's life, and it's the real kind of pain. The suffering lingers, endless, while moments of happiness— they flash by, like lightning, here one moment and gone the next. So, can you... can you make the most of that fleeting light? Be wiser in those moments, instead of drowning it out?"
I know I've crossed a line, said more than I intended, but it feels like the right thing to say, even if it's uncomfortable.
She remains still, her silence pressing against me, making the air thick with uncertainty. I can't help but feel uneasy, but I know I can't take back what I've said now. The words have already settled between us, heavy and unyielding.
Tomorrow, she'll resume work, though she's already searching for an excuse to extend her leave until next month, despite having rested for nearly two months. Our conversation shifts from the casual to the deeper, the light questions slowly giving way to something more serious.
She softens, her mood shifting as she takes in the surroundings, a smile slowly blooming in her eyes. She looks at me, then asks,
"Do you like playing games?"
I feel a wave of relief wash over me.
"Yes, I do."
"That's good," she said, her tone thoughtful. "Does it help you escape overthinking, or...?"
"It does," I replied, my voice quieting,
"But lately, I've been overthinking so much that even games can't offer much relief. But... strangely, I find a sort of comfort in it. In my overthinking."
She gazes at me, her curiosity piqued.
"Are you that imaginative, then?"
I smile a little, almost sheepish.
"You could say that. But I can't imagine anything unless I've seen it with my own eyes first."
"That's how imagination works, right?" she mushed,as if trying to piece it together.
"Maybe," I said, my voice trailing off. "But sometimes, imagination comes from listening, reading... though for me, the ideas only truly take shape when I see it with my own eyes."
"Like what?" she asked intrigued.
"Like you," I said, my heart skipping a beat.
Her eyes light up, and she chuckles, her amusement contagious, lingering in the air between us like a quiet, beautiful truth.
If you only knew the madness that swirls within me these days, consumed by thoughts of you, you'd surely think I've lost my mind—perhaps even call me a fool. My mind overflows with dreams of what I long to share with you. If God were to peer into my heart and witness the fire I've carried since the moment we met, I can only imagine He might ask me to explain myself.
***
In the world I've woven in my mind, I hold you close, your weight gently resting against my chest, your warmth becoming my own. We would spend the day lost in each other, and as night fell, I'd kiss you, each kiss more urgent, more tender than the last. In this dream, our hearts beat as one, we tease and whisper in the quiet corners of love, sharing a bond deeper than words, fulfilling every promise made.
As the atmosphere grows cooler, she rises, breaking the quiet of the room.
"I'm going to get some sleep. I have work tomorrow… and so do you."
A quiet disappointment settles within me; I long for her presence to linger just a little longer. Yet, my words distance us once more.
"I'm sorry if I've said anything to annoy you."
She shook her head, her smile gentle.
"You need rest. We both do. You have to work too."
"I do, but… could you stay a little longer?"
She hesitated, her gaze flickering with indecision.
"Umm…"
I offer a quiet confession, hoping it doesn't sound too needy.
"I'm always alone. I just started a new job, and I don't know many people. It's the weekend…"
I speak, but my heart knows the truth—I need to let her go. She needs her time to rest, to prepare for the challenges of tomorrow. I open my mouth to apologize for my vulnerability, but before I can, she speaks, soft but firm.
"I'm sorry, but I have a lot to take care of too… Some things I need to handle. But if you're free later tonight, would you mind meeting me on the balcony?"
A warmth spreads through me, and I can't help the smile that forms. This is the happiness I've been longing for.
"For sure. But don't pressure yourself. Just come out in case you can. Don't mind me." I replied, the joy in my voice unmistakable.
"I see. Ok then. See you," she said, turning towards the door.
"See you. Take care."
"You too."
The sky glows red as the sun dips, casting golden rays across the horizon. Birds glide gracefully, their silhouettes dancing against the fiery canvas. A distant cloud, heavy with rain, drifts lazily, edged with pink and purple.
A cool breeze brushes my skin, a lingering reminder of solitude. The wind whispers through the trees, but her promised footsteps never come. Emptiness surrounds me, a deep loneliness settling like the approaching dusk.
Continued...