The 12th Kiss

❁The 12th Kiss

          After work, John bought twelve sunflowers. The lady at the flower store smiled at him.

          "They're just lovely." John grinned. "I hope she likes them."

"She will." The lady replied. "Good luck."

          "Thank you!"

He skipped, half walked to his car. Today was the day. The day he would try to win Metilda back and tell her how much he loved her. He didn't care about her answer. He just had to try. Once. Twice. Thrice. Maybe as long as his breaths ran. Maybe as long as his heart kept beating, he would try to win his only love back.

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          A breathless John arrived at the doorsteps of his house. When he opened the door, he found Metilda and Louis dressed and ready to go out. She had her purse ready and Louis had his monkey bag.

          "Daddy's home." Louis rushed to John and hugged his legs.

"Yah. I'm home." John said, confused. Where were they going? His eyes fell on the baggage behind Metilda.

          Louis jumped back and sat on the piles of luggage. "Louis and mommy gonna live with Aunt Talihra. Like a sleepover! Louis loves Aunt Talihra!" The five year old child giggled loudly.

          "I-I" The banquet of flowers slipped out of John's hands. "You're moving out?"

          She held his eyes. Emotionless. Vacant. Dead.

"I've signed the papers. They're on the table."

          "But you can't go." He exclaimed.

"Daddy." Louis shook his head, like a grown up reprimanding a child. "We going for few days. Louis and mommy will come back soon."

          "Yah." Metilda smirked. Her lips crooked. "We'll be back."

John pulled her waist. "Please, don't go." He lowered his gaze till his lips were grazing hers. "Please."

          He kissed her as a silent plea.

The twelfth kiss was a desperate man trying to win back his wife.  

                      Louis gasped, loudly.  Green eyes became blank. The color began fading from his face.

            Metilda and John instantly pulled away. Metilda rushed to his side, her hands gripping the small, feeble fingers. 

          Louis was struggling for every ounce of air. His cheeks grew white, and his lips were tinted blue. 

"Mommy," Louis spoke between strangled pieces of air. "Louis can't...(gasp) breathe ....Mommy...help." 

          On the twelfth day, little Louis of five breathed his final breath.

And all was clear, the twelfth kiss was a mother fighting for her son.

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          Note: It's confusing. I know. Just hold on. All will be answered in the next chapter.