Chapter52
Wilson
The third weekend arrived, and I brought dinner from outside, a treat that Willy devoured with glee. Junk food and a movie night were just what we needed to unwind, and for a brief moment, our struggles were forgotten.
As Leona helped Willy with her bedtime routine, I made us coffee, the aroma filling the room with a sense of warmth and normalcy. We sat down again, ready for another conversation, but the familiar weight of my guilt and inadequacy settled back in. By now I had only learnt not to let my guilt control me, forgiving myself, that was a destination I’ve a long way to reach.
Yet, with Leona’s gentle presence beside me, I found the courage to confront my demons, to face the shadows that had haunted me for so long. Her quiet strength and unwavering support gave me the hope to keep moving forward, to believe that redemption was within reach.
“I felt like a failure after Willy’s accident,” I confessed, the words tumbling out in a restlessness
rush.
“And when we weren’t able to conceive again… the treatment was so expensive, and I couldn’t provide for our future the way I wanted to.” My voice cracked, the emotions still raw. Her eyes closed, her eyelids fluttering as she sighed softly, her chest rising with a gentle breath.
She didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to offer solutions; she simply waited, her presence a sanctuary, inviting me to continue. The silence between us was heavy with understanding, and I knew she was giving me permission to unravel, to expose insecurities and doubts I’d kept hidden for so long. I took another breath, steeling myself to reveal more. “I felt like I’d let you down, like I’d failed as a husband, a father… as a man.”
“You didn’t fail anyone, Wilson,” Leona ensured, her voice gentle but firm. “At least, not before you…” She paused, the unspoken words.
“We were going through a rough time, and we needed to be together as a family. No one was accountable for what happened or was happening.” Her gaze bore into mine, emphasizing the truth in her words.
“But you left Willy and me alone,” she continued, her tone softening. “You withdrew from us, from yourself. That’s when the failure began, not because of the accident or the treatments, but because we needed you, and you weren’t there.” I nodded, acknowledging the pain I’d caused, the love I’d neglected.
I’d deluded myself into thinking I was trying to get myself together, when in reality, I was simply distancing myself. I’d convinced myself that I needed space to heal, but now I saw it for what it was self–pitying selfishness. By pushing Leona and Willy away, I’d neglected the very people who needed me most. We could have faced our struggles together, healing as a family, but instead, I’d chosen isolation for not just myself but for my precious family too.
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“I was so blind,” I whispered, the words barely audible. “I should have been there for you both, not running from my own pain.” I ran a hand down
face. my
“I–I appreciate what you’re trying to do now,” Leona remarks, her voice calmly measured, but the
faint crack in her tone betrayed the other side of her emotions.
The vulnerability she struggled to conceal announced that she wasn’t ready to trust me yet, her eyes dropped briefly, and the guilt etched on her face revealed her own internal conflict – wanting to forgive, yet fearing the risk of another heartbreak.
I longed to reassure her, to prove my commitment, but I knew actions spoke louder than words. For now, I could only sit beside her, patiently waiting for the day she’d trust me again.
I hadn’t missed the signs – her empty, untrusting eyes, her hesitant demeanor, her polite but guarded words. It was as if she’d built a fragile fortress around herself, protecting her from another
heartbreak.
And that was precisely why I feared revealing the secret I’d tried to erase from my mind and life. The risk of losing her for good too great to bear. If I confessed, I might shatter the delicate thread of trust we’d begun to weave.
The thought sent a chill down my spine: I could lose her. The possibility echoed through my mind like a death knell. Emotionally, physically, I would succumb to the devastation. My heart racing, I felt the familiar grip of anxiety. How could I risk everything we’d worked to rebuild? Yet, didn’t I owe it to her, to us, to confront the truth, no matter how crippling it might be?
“But you do believe, right? Even just a little, you believe we can get through this?” I searched her face, my voice stuttering as I asked, hesitancy lacing my words. My heart hung in the balance, vulnerable and exposed.
“You want this, don’t you, Leo? You want us?” I uttered, my eyes locked onto hers, desperate for
reassurance. The silence that followed felt like an eternity, each passing moment stretching my anxiety to its limits. Leona’s gaze dropped, her eyelids fluttering closed as if gathering courage.
“I want to believe.” The faintest glimmer of hope flickered to life within me. It wasn’t a promise,
but it was a start.
“Actually, I do believe,” she nodded gently, her words a soft, golden light in the darkness.
The simplicity of her answer was relieving, tender and smooth as a summer breeze. It shot an arrow of relief and hope straight into my heart, and I clung to it like a lifeline, like the first ray
vof
sunshine after months of relentless storms. My chest swelled with emotion as I absorbed the faith
of those two words.
They were a promise, a beacon guiding me through the turmoil, a reminder that our love wasn’t lost forever. I felt the tension in my shoulders ease, my breath release in a slow sigh. Leona’s affirmation ignited a spark within me, a flame that flickered with renewed purpose. I reached
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my hand brushing against hers, seeking connection, seeking solace. “Thank you,” I whispered, my
voice trembling with gratitude.
