He looked at the house he hadn't seen in almost three years. His heart was pounding.
"Pull it together, idiot. Your wife's in there," he said to himself. "You know, the woman you married because you love her? She probably misses you as much as you miss her. Get your sorry ass in there, Mikeal."
He walked up the path he had laid when they first bought the hazel coloured place almost ten years ago.
A tear slid down his face as he got to the front door.
That was the most emotion that he had shown since he had to leave her.
Fuck the rules, he would never leave Alexandria alone again. Not until she demanded it.
Mikeal pulled the key out of his coat pocket, and prayed she didn't change the locks.
He slid the key in and sighed with relief when it turned and the door unlocked. He put his backpack down just inside of the door, put the key back in his pocket, and closed the door behind him.
"I'm home," he whispered into the darkness.
Like he expected, he was greeted by silence. He looked up the stairs, took a deep breath, and started the walk up to his lovers arms.
YOU ARE READING
Coming Home
Non-FictionMikeal loves his wife, Alexandria. The problem is that he was never supposed to even met her. After news of their marriage had reached his father, he was sent far away, and it was clear that he was not to return. Mike lived in Ireland for awhile...
