When a car crash claims the lives of their partners, Ezra and Imani are left reeling as they discover their loved ones died while holding hands. With accusations of an affair and betrayal flying, they're thrown together into grief and anger. Ezra's...
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15
Ezra
It's early, just before seven, and I wake up to the gentle sunlight. For weeks now, my mornings have followed a familiar routine: waking up early, preparing for work, and then instinctively turning to find Madison on the other side of the bed. It's become second nature, a muscle memory of waking up and eagerly seeking Madison's face and body. There are moments when the reality doesn't quite register immediately, and I find myself questioning why she's not still asleep, why she remains unmoving beneath the covers.
I wish my body could stop being so attuned to hers. I just want to sleep and wake up without expecting her, without feeling anything for her. For once, I want to wake up without her name at the tip of my tongue. Just one day without her scent lingering in my memory, without that suffocating feeling.
It feels like a punishment, as if I must have done something terribly wrong to endure this. Madison's memory seems to haunt every inch of me, echoing in every heartbeat. Her scent, her voice, and her smile playfully linger in my mind, turning it into a constant playground for her presence.
This particular morning is different; I wake up to a hallucination, a new and agonizing experience.
"Wake up," her whispers fill the morning, my eyes opening to the sunlight filtering through the curtains. Trapped in a nightmare, my body is stuck in my bedroom, but my soul feels buried deep in the ground.
"You're going to be late, Ezra. Wake up." Her voice, a melodic whisper, reaches my ears, and I gaze up at her, captivated by the beautiful smile on her radiant face. Her hair is all tousled, and every morning, I'd pull her down onto me, wrapping my arms around her. She fits just right in my arms, like she's crafted for me alone. Every morning brings a different set of emotions as I hold her – like I love her in a new way every day.
And it's always how I greet her.
She likes it, chuckling as she settles on top of me for a brief moment, allowing me to breathe in her scent, kiss her neck and cheek before our lips meet. That's always our good morning ritual.
At times, I forget. A smile creeps onto my face, temporarily soothing the ache as I gaze at her. Before the pain catches up, before reality sets in, I indulge in this illusion – a fabricated reality where nothing went wrong, and Madison and I are happily married. In this world, we lead a blissful life untouched by pain, remorse, or regret – just the two of us. Happy. Content.
When it happens, when I plunge into that rabbit hole, I grant myself the freedom to feel. I convince myself that this daydream is my truth. Every morning, we wake up, and the first sight is Madison's hair catching sunlight, glowing angelically.
