The Mathematician (Book 1)

13. A Mother's Love

I wasn't surprised when I woke up to an empty bed. Not that surprised, anyway.

I would've thought that after last night, after a heated and tiring round of sex and then his midnight writing-moment, he would've maybe felt the urge to sleep in this morning, but once again, he seemed adamant to prove he wasn't wholly human. 

Yawning and leaning in the doorway to his study, I watched through the gaps in his protruding bookshelf how he was already bent over at his desk, writing more math onto a crisp piece of paper. He didn't seem to have heard me get up, or maybe he was too indifferent to care, but nonetheless, I slowly walked further into the study and braced my body in my own hands as the morning cold nipped at my skin. My silk robe laid next to his chair. 

"You really don't know how to relax, do you?" I voiced, coming up beside him by his desk. 

He didn't look up from his papers, but merely grunted distractedly. "Good morning."

"Don't mind me," I said, quickly frisking my robe up from the floor and slipping it on. "I won't disturb anymore. You're obviously busy." Busy was an understatement. He was so completely absorbed in his work, he did not even bother to look up and provide me with a glance.

Giving me another grunt as reply, I pursed my lips at him, but then turned to leave. I walked out of the door to his study and up the stairs to my room, to take a long and needed shower. He didn't try and stop me.

I had never met a man more fond of his work than Harry, and a part of me admired him for his dedication and his commitment. 

Another part of me felt hollow as I walked upstairs, feeling that void inside my stomach and the ache in my chest that shouldn't be there. It shouldn't. 

Focus on work, I told myself like a mantra as I came inside my room and headed straight for the bathroom. I stripped down and got into the shower, turned on the water and took a deep breath. 

If Harry could do it, so could I. 

Be emotionless. 

~~~

My days seemed to be a constant repetition of themselves; waking up, showering, studying, sleeping with Harry and falling asleep. Not necessarily always in that order. 

After showering and eating some breakfast, I had quickly grabbed the book I needed from Harry's study, careful not to interrupt him as he spoke on the phone with someone as I entered. I grabbed the book off the shelf, and then I was out again. He was focused on work, and so was I. 

The next couple of hours had been spent studying and finally solving the last piece of the assignment that I had spent days trying to understand. It was around late noon that I with a relieved, yet happy sigh laid my pen down and rolled over onto my back. 

Done! Fifth assignment was finally done. 

After a short moment of laying on my back and enjoying the bliss, I then pulled myself up again and took a deep breath. On to the next. I was two assignments away from having completed all of his folders, and the victory and the satisfaction of having accomplished that was almost graspable. I wanted to get them done and prove to myself, but also to Harry, that I could be more than what I was.

So, gathering all my papers and my assignment, I left my room and headed down the stairs, once again finding myself repeating my every day schedule. When I came to his door, I didn't knock, but walked right in as I had grown a habit of doing. I still wasn't surprised when I came in to see Harry still doing his math.