Where Do Broken Hearts Go?

26. Striving

Before he can grasp the sight, the bathroom door opens. Creating more space between him and the other intruder, he bumps into a dresser only to witness a woman. One may think this would bring relief to his pounding heart. Instead, the sight creates an earth-shattering quake that his body isn't equipped to withstand.

Opening his mouth, Marcel strives to speak, but has forgotten how to breathe. The stunned and pale expression brings a smile to the woman's face. This gives him the strength to talk. 

He can't move his feet nor peel his eyes from his wife. "Hope?"

"Why is the baby out of his crib?" Her feet roam across the carpet to pick up the newborn. Knocking his hair out of his eyes, Marcel leans to the side, hoping for a better view of her face. "There, there, Noah." She brings the child around the bed, stepping before Marcel. "Tell daddy goodnight." She looks up to her husband and then their son.

Marcel's still inspecting every inch of Hope, but at the sound of the baby's grunt, his eyes drop to his son. Hope extends her arms to hand Noah off. As Marcel's preparing to hold his child for the first time, the room goes dark.

Sitting up, Marcel finds himself in bed.

"Hope?" He calls his dead wife's name. Ripping the sheets away from his body, Marcel throws himself out of bed. "Noah?" 

In the midst of destruction, there's a knock on the bedroom door. Marcel freezes, then rushes to swing the barrier open. Angel is startled by his aggressiveness and Marcel is disappointed by her presence.

With him sweating and breathing heavily, Angel questions, "Are you okay?" 

Marcel wipes his face then turns to the mess he's made. "Fuck." He whispers so quietly that Angel doesn't even hear. 

"I heard you cry out."

His bare shoulders lift as he pulls in a much-needed breath after a lightheaded haze comes down on him. As his eyes drift to the open bathroom door, he swallows away the rising emotion.

"Hey." Angel holds his clammy arm, striving for his attention. 

Marcel nearly flinches before noting the contact. Dragging his dilated eyes up Angel's arm, they finally bore into hers. 

"What's wrong?" She steps closer to him as he looks towards the bed.

"Nothing." 

Running a hand through his disorderly curls, he turns back to Angel – where his eyes begin to soften. Her eyes continue to search for probable cause.

"Did you have a bad dream? Please don't tell me there's a mouse in here." She holds her arms as she pops her head into the room.

"No." He clears his throat, replacing his nerves with a short-lived chuckle. "I thought there was a spider crawling on me."

"And you cried out like that?" Angel's light snicker expresses her ridiculing amusement as she turns around. "If there's a spider in my room, remind me not to call you." She smiles on her way back to her room.

LATER THAT MORNING

Marcel spent more time in the gym today. Perhaps it's because we've been eating heavy pasta and pizza. Maybe I need to take my ass down there with him. 

After his shower, he finds me on the couch watching Netflix.

"Morning."

"Hey." I look up from the screen to meet his welcome. "How did you sleep for the rest of the night? Did the spider get you?" I pinch his side.

"No." A handsome smile rejects my tease as he takes the seat beside me. The scent of his body wash comfortably lingers on his skin. "Are you going to get your phone fixed?" As he rests his arms in his open lap, Marcel points to the cracked phone on the coffee table. We haven't seen much of her.

"That little crack is not bothering me. I'll be fine." I plant my hands by my side and push myself back as I get cozier. 

As I return to my show, Marcel goes on to say, "I thought you left your phone here because you didn't want to use it."

"I didn't want my friends blowing me up and ruining the trip." I rest my arm over the back of the couch, making it easier to shield an escaped yawn. "This is one of the few times I've looked at it. I have plenty of calls and texts waiting for responses."

"Uh." He looks over, but not to me. Looking into his lap, Marcel opens up by revealing, "I had a nightmare about my wife and kid last night." 

I sit up and scoot to the edge of the couch. His hands are closed together as his head hangs over his long legs.

"That's why you yelled out..." I figure, soon to receive his validation through a nod.

I'm unsure of how to comfort him. This situation is beyond my expertise and extremely delicate. He followed his instincts yesterday and I'm going with mine today. Sliding closer, my hand rubs over his back.

"I got out of bed because I heard crying." He remains with his head down, but he wipes his face. I bite my lip, hoping he's not wiping away tears. "I went to check on you." 

He looks to the side and that's when I get a brief glimpse of his tinted, glossy eyes. My eyes fall to my lap, not prepared for this type of emotion from him. 

"I called your name, but you didn't answer. I went back into my room and found my... my son in my bed." The anguish threatens to take his voice, but he clears it to speak steadily.

After feeling myself coming undone and struggling to be strong for him, I swallow a huge breath.

"My wife was coming out of the bathroom. I was just about to hold my son for the first time and then I woke up. You came to my room 2 seconds later." 

He uses both hands to cover his reddened face. I tuck his hair behind his ear, then extend both of my arms to wrap around him. Instantly, Marcel loses the battle of containing his pure and heavy emotion. Parting his lips to draw a wavering breath, a quick sob falls from it, crushing my heart before another one of his tears strikes the floor.

"I'm so sorry. I know I can't make your pain go away. However, I want you to know that I'm always here with a shoulder to lean on and an ear willing to listen. Anything you need, okay? Always." I rest my chin on his shoulder, but instead, Marcel takes me up on that offer by leaning on me, wanting to be held.

As I lay back, a silent gasp leaves me while my shirt absorbs his fallen tears. My chest hops as what's left of my broken heart crumbles. While one hand holds Marcel's head to my chest, the other strokes his arm, hoping to console his tender soul.

Hearing him sniffle, I pray upon the ceiling as my tears make their anticipated appearance. With a failed effort of controlling myself, I squeeze my eyes shut. Behind my black lids, all I can see is an empty driver's seat highlighted by flashing red and blue lights. 

"It's not fair." I hold Marcel tighter as if I were holding Alex. "It's just not fair."