I roll over in bed, aware he has followed me after twenty minutes in the dark, my tray dumped and
lights and TV off, due to my low mood. Not wanting to eat or watch any shitty romances anymore.
The bed dips as Arrick’s body slides in beside me; we have gotten into a routine of sharing a bed, with
me staying here or him staying with me almost every night and cuddling up. This is the first time I have
been in bed before he has come in, since the first few days. He slides his arms around my still body,
oblivious to the fact I am awake and buries his face in my hair behind me. I stay still, heart still bruised
and even though the tears have dried externally, I am still crying inside. So much anger and sadness
mixed up together.
“Sophie?” He whispers softly, voice hoarse and tender with no hint of anger anymore, wrapping himself
around me snugly so that every part of him fits me. I try to stay still and not react. Still upset and
unwilling to let him know I am even listening, not sure what I even want to say anymore. “I know you’re
awake, I can tell.” He nudges me softly with his knee, a gentle Arry mannerism that makes the pain in
my chest soften a little. Aching to be normal with him again and not lie here feeling this miserable. I
sigh and turn a little to acknowledge him. Wrapped up tight in his embrace yet still feeling closed off
and alone.
“What is it?” I whisper back icily, trying to keep the fact I was crying for an age from my voice. I don’t
like letting him see when he hurts me. A part of me that has changed since we got back together. I
know it’s stupid to hide when he wounds me, but it’s like a defensive knee-jerk reaction. Not letting him
see my vulnerability is all connected somehow to how crazily messed up I still am and cannot even
decipher it.
“I’m sorry. I hate fighting with you, baby. I’m trying to distance myself from her, Sophs, it’s not that easy.
I don’t want to be cruel. I need you to understand and not give me a tough time on this.” He sounds
hurt, anger gone, and just my soft gentle Arry lying in the dark with me. Winning me back around like
he always does, smoothing over bruised feathers and reminding me how grateful I should be that I
even have him at all.
I turn in his arms and push my face into his neck, feeling him adjust so he can hold me this way and try
so hard to let this go, so I can feel better. He pulls me in close and runs his fingers down my shoulder
and back up my spine through my tank top. Nestling close to me and finding a comfy position to sleep
with entangled bodies, which is the way he likes us to be.
“I love you, Mimmo. So much.” He murmurs sleepily, obvious that he thinks we are okay, despite my
saying nothing except cuddling close. My head and emotions battling one another and dried tears still
stinging my face as new ones threaten to fall.
Maybe it’s lack of experience in life and love, maybe I am an immature child, and this is why I can’t
understand this. Arrick has always been someone who cares about people and I know this is at the root
of why he is just so willing to let Natasha hold on, but now with the weeks passing by, I am starting to
doubt this as the sole reason.
Natasha had been his life, he loved her. She had been his future. He chose to go back to her before he
came for me and a part of me wonders if maybe, just maybe, he is having second thoughts and is the
one who won’t let her go.
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