Unstable And Yours

From Good To...

3 days ago

Certainly! Here's a revised version of your text:Lately, I've noticed a recurring habit of waking up in the middle of the night just to enjoy some solitude. Almost every night, I find myself quietly navigating through the house to settle on the couch and ponder. However, tonight took a different turn – hunger struck, and the irresistible craving for noodles took over. Now, I'm attempting to prepare a quiet midnight snack, mindful not to disturb the entire household. Giovanni and his brothers are still around, and oddly, I haven't ventured outside the house. It feels as though he's intentionally keeping me at a distance from my best friend, justifying it with claims like, "She's had more than enough time with me." Struggling to contain my frustration, I detest this sense of confinement.

"Finneas."

I jump, dropping  the pot of water as I feel someone grabbing my shoulder but I quickly notice it's Giovanni and I scoff.

"Shit, I got water everywhere," I grumble. Instinctively, I reach for the pot on the floor, but Giovanni intervenes and takes care of it for me. I would have struggled with the cleanup on my own. "I was just trying to whip up some noodles; I'm starving," I explain to him, observing as he tidies up the water mess.

"Is that what you do when you sneak out every night? I was beginning to think you were plotting something against me." He tells me.

"Risk something happening to the people I love?" I inquire, my tone laced with disbelief. It's not merely about worrying for him; it extends to his weird ass siblings as well. 

"The people you love? Am I not one of those people?" I observe him with my arms crossed, feeling goosebumps on my arms. It's only now dawning on me how cold it is in here. My silence prompts him to stand up and approach me.

"Go sit down," he says softly, touching my arm. I comply, taking a seat at the table and observing as he starts the pot of water for me. The atmosphere feels incredibly tense, making me wish I had brought my phone downstairs. I find myself at a loss for words; initiating conversations used to come easily to me, but now, I'm unsure of how to begin.

It doesn't take him long to join me, and we both sit there, gazing out in silence. I attempt to avoid eye contact, but I sense his eyes tracing over me, exploring every inch.

"Do you not love me anymore?" he asks once more, and my heart begins to pound. I'm well aware of what that question implies – tears are imminent. I tend to get emotional about everything, especially when it comes to discussing my feelings. I take a moment to clear my throat before responding.

"You're the father of my child, and I'm marrying you," I assert. There's a brief silence before he speaks again.

"You didn't respond to my question," he insists.

"Of course, I still love you, Giovanni. I wish I didn't, but I do," I admit. My intention wasn't for my voice to sound harsh, but I struggle with sharing this because he doesn't deserve my love. I've been grappling with my feelings, berating myself for still harboring love for him.

"You never tell me you love me. Everything has been different; you don't even look at me the same anymore. It's like you're scared of me, but you know I would never hurt you or my child," he confesses to me. I quickly wave my hand dismissively.

"First off Giovanni, I am not scared of you. I will never be scared of you and the reason everything is different is because-" I stutter trying to find the exact words to say. It should be quite obvious why things are not the same. "Giovanni, you almost dragged me out to watch my family get murdered! You grabbed me by my hair and you said very hurtful things to me!"