Pregnant Pause [H.S]

Chapter 23

Chaos 

The curtains hadn't been drawn in the living room, so I woke up to the blazing sun shining directly in my eyes and blinding me even in my sleep. The blanket around me had slid down to my waist and tangled in my legs, and I felt heavy and exhausted despite having just woken up. The couch had left a dull ache in my back, like a kink that couldn't be stretched out.

Upon opening my eyes, my first thought was Fitz and how we'd fought just hours before. Not fought – broken up. Something we'd never done before. Something I hadn't been prepared to do. Not just the night before, but... ever.

All the bedroom doors were shut. No one else was awake. Normally, I'd appreciate the silence, but I just felt alone. Not the peaceful kind. The torturous kind. And after five minutes, I couldn't stand it – neither the silence of the cottage nor my screaming thoughts.

So I tore off my V-neck and pulled on my shorts and slipped out of the cottage for a morning run. I ran until I'd exhausted myself, just like the last time, but I felt no less tense and upset. When I thought about it, it was bizarre to assume that my ruined world could be fixed or even mildly improved with a thirty-minute run.

I took a hot shower when I returned, scrubbing my skin raw, and with a towel wrapped around my waist, I quietly entered the room I'd once shared with Fitz in search of clean clothes. I was walking in annoyed and angry, but my heart softened and dropped as soon as I was inside.

She was curled up on her side, hand tucked underneath her cheek on the pillow, lips in a soft pout, breathing deeply out her nose. When I got closer, there was no mistaking the dried tearstains on her cheek, confirming my suspicions that she'd cried to herself long after I'd left.

And she slept on my side of the bed. Not by simple mistake, like rolling over too far in the night, but purposely. Her side was untouched, still made, the blankets smoothed over that portion. She'd never even climbed in that way – she'd intended to sleep where I slept all along.

There was a stirring in my chest. Not love, for that was something I felt for her constantly – but something else. Something I couldn't quite place.

*

Any hopes that Fitz had forgotten our argument or would change her mind were shattered as soon as she woke. She ignored me as the six of us ate our breakfast and she packed herself up without a word. We said our goodbyes and she climbed into the passenger seat for the four-hour drive to Birmingham, folding a jumper on her lap in case it got cold.

"I don't want to talk," she said as I pulled out of the drive.

"I don't recall initiating conversation," I answered dully.

"Okay," she said stiffly. Then she pulled out my iPod, searching through the playlists. "Classic rock or contemporary alternative?"

"Classic."

She set it on shuffle, adjusting the volume on the speakers before leaning back in her seat and staring out her window, not making another sound.

We drove for over three hours in silence shrouded in thick, cloudy tension. I was next to speak, and only did so when we neared the city.

"Should I drop you off at your flat?"

"No," she replied. "I'll stop at yours first, if that's all right. I have some things there that I should pack up and take home."

She was steely and stone-faced rather than teary, and I wasn't sure if I liked that. Certainly the tears broke my heart, but the metallic exterior was even worse. If she felt anything similar to what I felt, she was falling apart inside – and I was no longer someone with whom she felt she could let it show. She wore a brave face for me now.