Unsuccessful

Last Message...

Hardin's Point of View...

2 weeks later...

I return to our Washington Penthouse, it felt like my stay at my mother's house was more than welcome anymore. My mother still loves me but every time I look at her, every morning we had our breakfasts and dinners in the past 2 weeks, she looked at me like she doesn't remember me anymore.

I know she will never tell me but deep down, she blames me for Tessa leaving us. 1 week ago, I tried asking my mother if she blames me for our relationship with Tessa falling apart, she sat like a stone, unturned, unmoved, unbothered by my question. Silently she answered my question, yes as it's said, sometimes the silence of a person is the best answer they can offer you.

Returning to the Penthouse was not an easy decision. Every part of the Penthouse screamed Tessa. What we had. What we could have had. I ruined us. I ruined my future.
A future that could have had Tessa with me. As my wife. Maybe as the mother of my children.

It's been 2 weeks since she left me. I hired a private investigator to search for her. The day she left me, left us, was the day my determination changed into a promise, a promise to my unsettled soul, that I will give it back its other missing half.

I climb up the staircase to our bedroom. As I reach outside, I see my shaking hands, grabbing the doorknob, and waiting to open the door to our bedroom. The moment I step in, all the memories from our time together hits me like a brakeless train, crashing my body and soul underneath the heaviness of our past.

Memories of our lovemaking, memories of us laying naked out of breath after our lovemaking, Tessa holding my hands as she used to get her breath back because of our passionate sex, me rubbing her naked back, our naked chests pressed against each other, me kissing her forehead as she lays her sweaty head on my naked chest, us falling into a peaceful slumber out of exhaustion of our uncounted lovemaking sessions. Every memory I had with Tess comes back to me, the only difference is that it's her memories that come back not her as a person.

I know she is mad at me. Her last message gave me hope. I thought she asked me to meet her so that we can discuss our issues and move past them. I thought I will get time to apologize to her properly. I thought I will tell her everything she deserves to know about my past. Everything. I thought she will forgive me, we will kiss each other senselessly and then we will go back home, together.

But, nothing I imagined happened.
Tessa never came. She left me without even bothering to tell me. Why does she leave? Where she is going? To whom does she leave? So many questions I have for her, but the person to answer them is most likely not coming back.

I begin to undress. I open my shirt and just let it drop somewhere on the floor of our bedroom. Then I unbuckled my belt and drag it, loop by loop, and once all loops are done, I let it join my shirt. Then my trousers. I unbutton them and drag them down my legs, stepping out of them, first my left leg and then my right one. Once completely off, it joins my shirt and belt on the wooden flooring of our bedroom floor.

It will always be our bedroom. No matter if she comes back to me, no woman will ever step in here, no woman will ever cross the threshold of our house. I belong to Tessa now. Only her. I belong to her. I belonged to her since I fell in love with her and I will belong to her for the rest of my life. She has my heart. She has claimed my soul. Even if she will never be mine, I will be hers forever.

"I love you, Tessa," I scream her name. Her name leaves my dry throat, making it rough further.

"I love you, Tess, I love you, please come back to me, please baby,"

I repeat my words, hoping someone may hear them and they come true.
I know the chances are less, but who am I to complain.

I am alone here. There is no one to hear me. I can be vulnerable. I can cry over the loss of the love of my life. For once I can remove this mask that I wear, the mask I carry everywhere, that I am strong, that the famous Hardin Scott can handle anything. For once I can go back to my childhood, to that scared kid I was, I used to be. The only difference is, now I am scared by the truth becoming a reality, that I lost the only person who loved me back selflessly, that I lost my wife, my soulmate.