(18+ EXPLICIT CONTENT)
"I'm good at other things too, sweetheart," His voice was gruff and husky, my lips unconsciously parting in a daze. He's standing dangerously close to me, trapping me between him and my cupboards. The tension is suffocating an...
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The last couple weeks passed by rather expediatedly, seemingly slipping from my grasp and placing me in this subconscious haze. It was like life was surreal and the events that inhabited it blurred together like a toddler with two colors of paint. I found it hard to sleep at night, not feeling Will's breathy, silent presence cuddled against me. My body wasn't familiar with the change and my eyes displayed it to everyone.
Various concerning eyes stained my vision at my work. Even my clients pondered with a muted gaze of perplexion. I would never tell them my case as I didn't want to throw myself a pity party, no. No one would find out except Bridget, a very close friend and colleague of mine.
It was in her nature to console me, noting as she, herself, was a therapist. She brought me into her office and catered to my frustration and anger, allowing me the time of day to actually let everything out.
Hell, I didn't even tell my mother. I couldn't face her or my step-dad, the father of the mistress. They wouldn't even know what to do with themselves if I shared the conflict, knowing it would inevitably break the family into mere factions. I didn't expect Julian to turn on Lydia, no, that was his own flesh and blood—his pride and joy, and not to mention, his only child.
Therefore, I suffered in my silence, coming to terms with the breakup and the heartbreak, relieving some of the pain in Bridget's therapy office. It was painful and I couldn't even mutter a sentence towards the end of the sessions, but they benefited me in the long run.
Will reached out a couple times, sending flowers to Luke's and a couple messages through text and voicemail. My curiosity couldn't keep him out, but my logical side prohibited the acknowledgement of the gestures. He probably knew I was reading them and listening to the voicemails, but he didn't dare show his face at the door. Not with the probability of Luke intervening.
At least he had some decency to let me heal in peace, with the exception of the few outreaches.
I also didn't know what I was going to do about the baby, subconsciously knowing I needed to go confirm with my doctor before moving forward. Therefore, I set up an appointment later in the week, sort of coming to terms that it wasn't going to solve itself. I was still receiving the shit end of the symptoms, feeling incredibly queasy during the mornings and painful migraines during the nights. My period was still a no call no show, rudely leaving me hanging.
Today, on the other hand, was a delightful deviation from the miserable morning sickness. I held down my breakfast with no problem and drove to work without the spinning roads. It never even appeared during my sessions, sort of puzzling me, but I was thankful.
The night struck and I laid down in the spare bed, pulling the fluffy comforter over my body. The window was a tad ajar, leaving enough room for the reassuring rustling and calming breeze to sneak through. My eyes were drooping shut and the soft pillows felt like clouds against my head. I surely knocked out in less than ten minutes, a new record for this week. It was probably the deepest sleep I'd had in awhile since before my suspicions.
