36. Mid-Life Crisis

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It's been a couple of months since I met Sam at the support group center, and believe it's been a long few months.

The most I did was try and persuade Lewis to join the counseling sessions as it was going to be beneficial for our relationship, but he continued to insist it wasn't necessary. Until I finally gave him an ultimatum:

I turned over in my bed and reached over for my phone which was sat on the dresser; 3:47 am. 'Damn,' I thought. My mouth was extremely dry and I was tossing and turning all night, unable to sleep. I conjured up the energy to get up and mince my way over to the kitchen.

I was still using the spare room as I needed to make a statement. Lewis wasn't cooperating at all and it wasn't fair. If he wasn't going to do what I wanted him to do, then I'm not doing what he wants. And what he wants is to have me.

In the dark, I made it into the kitchen as quietly as ever and opened the cabinet above the sink to grab a glass. I quietly positioned the glass beneath the faucet to stop the water from hitting the sink and making noise.

I took a sip, the nice cold water soothing my dry mouth. The satisfaction gave me the chills. Hopefully, this would be enough to help me finally get to sleep.

"You can't sleep either, huh?" I heard behind me.

Turning around I say the silhouette of a tall figure, obviously Lewis. In the dark, I could still see the messy curls of his hair covering his face and the fact he was only in his underwear.

I rolled my eyes and began to make my way back to my room, completely ignoring his statement and pretending I didn't hear.

"Y/N, don't do this. I know you heard me," he croaked, the sound of his morning voice, except it, wasn't the morning.

"Lewis, it's too early to deal with your shit right now," I complained without stopping on my way back to the bedroom.

"You can't do this forever, Y/N," he said, pleading for me to give him the time of day.

"Watch me," I seethed, as I opened and then slammed the door behind me.

I collapsed on the bed, face first, my arms at awkward angles on either side of my body and leg spread apart.

"Ugh!" I yelled in frustration. All I wanted was a glass of water to help me sleep and seeing Lewis was just dampening my mood all over again.

No longer after my short tantrum, there was a quiet knock on my bedroom door.

I lay there in silence trying to make out that I was finally asleep but Lewis didn't fall for it.

"Hey, can we at least acknowledge each other's existence," he suggested through the crack between the door and the frame.

I rolled my eyes and got off the bed. I figured I may as well hear what he has to say. Not because I care, but because I'm curious. He may even decide therapy was a good option and maybe we could start afresh from there.

I opened the door ajar and peered my head through the gap.

"Speak," I demanded, face hostile and uninviting.

He wiped his hand down his face and sighed, "I just want us to sort things out. I hate us sleeping in different beds and you going off on 'jogs' all day," he rambled on, making air-quotes with his fingers.

The muscles in my face tightened, "Why did you just quote 'going off on jogs'?"

"Because I don't know where you're really going!" He accused.

"I'm going on jogs, Lewis," I reiterated, "Oh, and by the way, it's a shame you don't enjoy the whole separate bed thing because I'm loving it."

"But you're waking up in the middle of the night," Lewis said blankly.

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