Chapter45
“You’re getting a little bored in your free time here, I’ve seen,” he said, his observation gentle and
insightful.
“Why not try painting again? I remember how much you enjoyed it in high school.” His words brought a smile to my face, with nostalgia and gratitude. I felt a warmth spread through my chest, touched by his thoughtfulness and attention to detail. He had noticed my restlessness, my need for creative expression, and had taken steps to revive a part of me that had long been dormant.
“Thank you, Wilson,” I thanked him sincerely, my voice filled with genuine appreciation. To express my gratitude further, I decided to make him his favorite dessert, a small gesture to acknowledge his thoughtful effort.
I knew he was trying to walk the gap between us, one step at a time, but the distance created by him. was still vast, and I was still gathering the emotional energy to see if I could meet him halfway. The
sweetness of the dessert seemed a fitting gift to show him I appreciated his efforts.
Three weeks later, Wilson walked in a little late, and Willy was already asleep. I was absorbed in
painting in the small corner of the room that Wilson had helped me set up.
He had thoughtfully provided a comfortable stool and a wooden easel with various sizes of canvas. I had forgotten how much I missed painting until I started again. The act of creating was beautiful and soothing, pulling me into a world of peace.
Wilson leaned over my shoulder, gazing at the half–finished painting of a woman standing at the
edge of a field of dandelions, with the sun setting behind her. I still had to enhance it, but he seemed captivated by the scene. I had to admit, there were many new techniques and products to learn, and
I felt a bit outdated. I had to watch tutorials to understand how to use some of the modern art
supplies. It made me chuckle, feeling a bit old but grateful to be rediscovering my passion.
“It’s beautiful, Leo,” he said, a little dazed, and I noticed his slip of the tongue. Ever since I had told
him he no longer had the right to call me by that name, he had made a conscious effort to stop.
However, in this moment, it had slipped out, and he probably didn’t even realize it. I didn’t correct
him, letting it pass, as I had already decided to try for Willy’s sake, and for mine, to see if I could learn to trust him again either in the same way or in a new way.
“All thanks to you,” I said, turning around to face him, our eyes meeting as he remained leaning towards me. For a moment, I searched within myself, seeking to uncover any lingering desires or feelings that once burned bright as a wife and a woman. But my heart came up empty, the trust he had tainted still festering like an open wound.
I retreated from the intimacy of the moment, my gaze faltering as I stood up, creating distance between us. The movement was a silent testament to the work still needed to mend the fractures in our relationship, to rebuild the trust that had been lost.
Chapter45
44.55%
“I’ll heat up dinner,” I mumbled, excusing myself to the kitchen to escape the tension. I busied myself reheating the meal, the familiar routine a comforting distraction from the emotional
turmoil.
Meanwhile, Wilson sighed and headed to the bathroom to shower and change, the sound of the water a subtle reminder of the physical and emotional distances between us. The mundane tasks we performed in parallel, the depth of feelings and unresolved issues that still simmered beneath the
surface.
“You can sleep,” he suggested, sitting down as I served dinner, his words a gentle offer, but I knew better. Wilson never ate and slept immediately; he always took at least three hours to digest his food before retiring.
“I haven’t eaten yet,” I replied, and he looked up at me, surprised. I hadn’t waited for him, but since I wasn’t hungry earlier, I thought I’d join him for dinner today.
He tried to mask his happiness, but a small smile escaped, and he pulled the chair beside him, inviting me to sit. I made my way to the chair, my heart heavy with emotions, and sat down, the weight of our complicated situation settling between us like an uninvited guest.
It was a strange reversal, how the tables had turned. He was offering so much, while I gave only the bare minimum. It wasn’t that I was being hostile or resentful; I was simply cautious. I didn’t want to raise his hopes, only to crush them later if I couldn’t follow through.
I needed to be sure, to know that I was on the same page as him, before I could open up and give more of myself. The uncertainty lingered, a delicate balance between vulnerability and self–protection.
For the first time since Willy’s accident, time seemed to be passing with a sense of hope and progress. And then, six months later, a moment of pure joy: Willy was trying to stand up on her shaky legs. I burst into tears, overwhelmed with emotion, and didn’t pull away when Wilson hugged me, his own tears of happiness mingling with mine as we both cheered and cried for our daughter’s tiny victory. In that fleeting instant, our shared love and pride for Willy bridged the gap between us, and I let myself lean into his embrace, savoring the warmth and comfort of our shared humanity.
A few weeks later, I found myself accompanying Wilson to his workplace for a celebratory party, a testament to his rapid success in his new role.
“You can wear this if you’d like,” Wilson said, laying down a plastic bag containing a stunning red dress as I finished my hair and makeup.
Chapter 5
