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“And when we couldn’t conceive, It only fueled my insecurities,” I confessed, the words pouring out like a long–held secret. “I felt like I was failing to give you everything I promised, like the life we dreamed of was nothing more than a cruel illusion. Reality was harsh, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was the reason our dreams remained elusive. Every month, every disappointment, every failed attempt felt like proof that I wasn’t enough.
Leona’s expression softened, her eyes welling up with empathy.
“And it wasn’t just the trying to conceive that stopped, Will,” she asserted, her voice cracking with
emotion.
“We stopped being intimate altogether. You pulled away, and I convinced myself it was stress, exhaustion from our circumstances. But every time I tried to end this distance, you shut me down
with ridiculous excuses.” Her eyes locked onto mine, filled with pain and vulnerability.
“I couldn’t help but wonder…was I no longer beautiful to you? Did you still desire me? The rejection stung, and I felt like I was losing myself, losing us.” Her words spilled out, a mix of sadness and longing. “I felt unwanted, unloved, and unattractive.” She confessed.
“Leo, 1-1,–
“Mom,” Willy whined in her sleep, her small voice piercing the emotional moment. Leo sighed softly as she stood up, her eyes never leaving mine. She smiled faintly, a gentle smile that spoke of her love for our child, and her acceptance of the interruption.
I watched as she walked over to Willy’s side, her movements graceful and soothing. She bent down to comfort our daughter, her touch calming Willy’s restless sleep. I remained seated, my eyes fixed on the two people I loved most in the world, feeling a sense of gratitude and hope. Maybe, just maybe, we could heal and find our way back to each other.
“We’ll talk later. Let’s sleep now,” she whispered.
I nodded in agreement, but my mind wandered to the question that had been haunting me – when would I have her back in my bed, in my arms, right by my side, completely and wholly? When would we be able to reclaim the intimacy and closeness we once shared? I longed to hold her, to feel her warmth, to be enveloped by her love. But for now, I would have to be patient, to respect her boundaries and the fragile trust we were rebuilding. I stood up, following her lead, my heart heavy with emotion, yet hopeful for a future where we could be together again, as one.
The fifth weekend loomed before us, the final and most crucial one. It was the moment of truth, the most challenging conversation we would have to face. We would be talking about Alenia, the elephant in the room, the wound that still lingered. My heart raced at the thought of it, knowing that this conversation would make or break us. It was the last hurdle to overcome, the last secret to reveal, the last truth to confront. I prepared myself for the emotional battle ahead, knowing that our relationship hung in the balance. Would we emerge stronger, or would the weight of our past
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crush us? Only time would tell.
The centre of our crisis, the reason we’d teetered on the brink of divorce, was a complex web of faults and missteps. As much as Alenia’s actions had contributed to our downward spiral, I knew I was equally responsible. My own insecurities, doubts, and failures had eroded the foundation of our marriage, leaving us vulnerable to the cracks that had nearly shattered us.
I acknowledged my role in the destruction, the moments I’d withdrawn, the times I’d failed to communicate, and the instances I’d prioritized the wrong things. Our marriage hadn’t imploded
solely because of Alenia, it was me more than anyone else. And now, as we worked to rebuild, I understood that our healing required mutual accountability and a willingness to confront my flaws.
I’d planned a weekend getaway, a gentle reboot, before confirming with Leona that she was ready. We needed to bridge the chasm between us, reconnecting on multiple levels.
Emotional distance was just the beginning. She agreed; we had to start somewhere. So, I booked a hotel room for Saturday night, no expectations, no pressure. Perhaps we wouldn’t do anything more than hold each other, feeling the warmth of familiar bodies, and sleep. The simplicity was
intentional.
I wanted to recapture the effortless comfort we once shared, to relearn the language of touch and intimacy. A night away from routine and stress, just us, in a neutral space. I hoped it would be a first step toward healing, a chance to rediscover the rhythm of our relationship. Her cautious enthusiasm had given me hope. This weekend, we might take small steps toward rekindling our
connection, toward becoming “us” again.
I slid our duffle bag into the backseat, awaiting Leona’s exit from the medical center. We’d made arrangements for Willy’s care, entrusting our little one to Mrs. Choi, a kind–hearted, middle–aged nurse. She’d watch over Willy until tomorrow morning, giving us a much–needed break. As I waited, my gaze drifted to the building’s entrance, anticipating the building in my chest.
This weekend was more than just a getaway it was a chance to reconnect, to rediscover the love and intimacy that had once come so naturally.
She descent down the parking lot slope captivating my attention. My breath caught in my throat as I drank in the vibrant sight of her. She wore a bright orange dress, its simplicity belied by the radiant confidence she exuded. The knee–length garment hugged her curves, but it wasn’t the dress that
stunned me
was the woman inside it.
She had a gift for commanding attention without trying, her authentic beauty shining brighter than any designer gown. Her dark hair cascaded down her back, framing her gentle smile. As our eyes met, her gaze sparkled, and my heart skipped a beat. For a moment, the past few months‘ struggles faded into the background, leaving only the woman I loved, looking breathtakingly beautiful. I couldn’t help but smile, feeling a glimmer of hope. This weekend, maybe, just maybe, we could rediscover our lost spark.
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