Ophelia Mikaelson (Poly Mikaelsons)

Chapter 23 - Handwritten Letters

Elijah's breathing remains steady and I check over my shoulder often. I'm snooping in his old diaries and I know he won't mind but I feel as though I'm violating his privacy by doing it without his knowledge.

I read on, flicking through pages and pages, decades and decades of entries. 90% of them are all about me. How much he misses me, how much he wishes he could speak to me one last time, how much he wished he knew where I was and what happened.

As the years progress, his mental state deteriorates and it's evident in his writing. It's scattered, frantic. There's even tear stains on the pages.

My guilt consumes me. I've been struggling to accept him back but it's clear he has no doubts about us. All I've seen is the worst, I've only seen him through the lens of my own fears.

He doesn't want Hayley, yes, she may have been a fleeting crush but he evidently loses himself without our family being whole.

A letter falls out from between the pages, followed by another and then another. Soon, the floor is covered with them, all addressed to me.

"Wife?" Elijah's sleepy voice makes me jump as he stirs, the sound of paper hitting the ground disturbing his sleep.

I freeze, caught in the act of snooping and he sighs.

"You could have just asked."

The slight pain in his voice hurts to hear. This is yet another time I've not trusted him enough to talk about things directly.

"I'm sorry," I apologise quickly. "I woke up and I couldn't help myself. We've been so distant from each other lately and I've judged you instead of talking it through. I wanted to see... I don't know... I wanted to see if you were happy without me I suppose."

"I wasn't," he is fast to counteract that idea. "I was falling apart."

"I want to start over but there's a few things I don't understand. Why did you shout and blame me for what I did to conceive this baby? You were the one that finally pushed me to it that night. And why have you been hiding from me? I trust you, you won't hurt me I know that."

"I nearly killed you," he starts with my final point first. "I don't care that you would have recovered, you're pregnant and I risked our baby. I could have drained the life from you and our child, I can't trust myself not to lose control like that again."

"You won't," I reassure him, leaving the papers all over the floor. I climb beside him in bed and cuddle up close. "I know you won't because you are so worried about it. You won't let it get that far again."

He swallows the lump in his throat and ponders on my answer before responding back.

"We cannot blood share until I am certain I will not harm you. I cannot lose control like that, I will not ever forgive myself if I harm you, wife."

"Okay," I whisper, a little disappointed albeit fully understanding. If this is the compromise to ensuring he doesn't wallow in self pity and hide from me, I will take it.

He is delighted with my easy agreement probably expecting an argument about it.

"It's an easy choice for me to make husband," I reassure him, brushing my fingers over his cheekbone tenderly. "I can't stand you despising yourself for what happened, it hurts me more than you know. You are part of me and I do not see you as a monster. I never have and I don't want you believing that either."

He holds my gaze and behind his eyes I see everything fall into place. I'm finally able to relax, knowing he believes me and is willing to trust my words. So I bring up another point, while he is receptive.