Matched

Brenda & Zibry

He took a step towards her. 'Brenda.'

'I'm fine!'

Zibry went over.

'Don't-don't touch me,' she told him as he reached for her shoulder. 'It'll-it'll only make things worse.' Her voice was shaking. Bending over the table, she took several long, deep breaths.

Zibry backed over to the bed and sat down. 'I don't like you feeling like this.'

'I know. I'm sorry. I'm trying to control it.'

'Brenda—'

'Stop.' She was gripping so tightly onto his notebook her knuckles were white. 'Give me—give me a moment.'

Putting down his notebook, she pressed her fingers against her eyes, as though she could force the tears back, even as they prickled behind Zibry's own. His throat felt hot and swollen. But the worst thing was that feeling in his stomach. That deep, empty feeling of grief. Of grief. That was what it was.

'I'm-I'm infertile, Zibry. I can't have babies.'

Zibry tried his best to control his emotions but his heart sank anyway.

Brenda's voice was a quivering whisper. 'I'm sorry.'

Zibry stood.

'Don't!' She glared up at him through her hair. 'Stay there. If you touch me, I'll cry. And I don't want to cry. I'm done crying!'

He sat back down, the gnawing in his belly biting deeper and deeper. Zibry gazed down into his lap, the sinking feeling in his chest slowly easing. If the impossible was already made possible, then there was every opportunity ...

'I know what you're thinking,' she said. 'Bond or no bond, I know what you're thinking. I would suggest you stop it. Hoping is traumatising—and I hate it.'

She went over to the meal bench and poured herself a cup of water. Her hand was trembling as she drank. 'I can't do this again. I've accepted it. It's over. I won't go back to hoping. I won't.'

'But—'

She spun around. 'No, Zibry. It won't happen. Stop hoping.' She pressed her fist to her chest. 'Stop dreaming! It hurts.'

'I can't help it. I can't help it!'

'Try harder!' She turned away. 'I can't do this. I can't be here right now.'

She made towards the door. Zibry hurried after her, seizing her arm.

'I can't be here!'

'I'm sorry,' he said and he pulled her into his chest.

She shoved at him but he held on tight. The tears were coming now. Zibry turned his head, wincing down upon the grief he could feel bubbling angrily away in her stomach.

'Zibry!'

'I'm sorry,' he repeated. 'I'll try harder.'

She was thumping the side of her fist helplessly into his shoulder before she finally sagged against him with a sob.

*

She'd thought she'd gotten over this. She hadn't thought about it for years. And yet here she was, sobbing like she'd done after failing all her fertility treatments.

Being a single mother wasn't ideal but it was far better than nothing—and yet not even that had panned out. Not only could she not get a man, she couldn't even make a baby. Did that even make her a woman?

Zibry gently lowered her to the floor as her knees bowed weakly beneath her.

It was Zibry—that was the problem. Alexis's pregnancy had broken her, for sure, but it was Zibry who had weakened her, who had cracked her. Having a man in her life changed things. It had brought all those old feelings to the surface: the misfortune, the lost opportunity. Why couldn't he have abducted her ten years ago?