𝐀 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 | 𝐋. 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐒

In this lifetime or in others

"Sweetheart?" her voice called out. The keys cluttered on the counter top, her coat strew across the chair in the living room. She did a quick scan around the place, everything remained as it was when you both left in the morning.

Larissa knew something was wrong the moment you went home without her. You only sent a text saying you were already at home but lacking any details as to why you had gone home so early. She didn't inquire any further, instead she only replied that she would be home as soon as she could.

True to her word, Larissa was home even before five in the afternoon, when usually she would stay in her office, lost in the myriad of paperwork to finish and emails to response until the sun had set and you had fallen asleep on the couch while waiting for her.

Before checking you in the bedroom where she was positive you would be, she made a short trip to the kitchen and gathered some snack you could nibble on and a glass of water.

After that, Larissa was on her way to you, balancing the tray and walking barefoot across the floor, her stocking left abandoned into a messy pile next to her heels out haste in the middle of the kitchen to get to you fast. It was unlikely for her to litter around, but she was panic-stricken that it affected her capability to pick up after herself. She could do that later when she was sure you were okay.

Low and behold, she was right, you were in your shared bedroom curled up on the bed, still clad in your working clothes. Her heart physically ached at the sight. Whatever it was that clouded your head at the moment, it was making you feel miserable.

Once the tray was placed on the bedside table, gently she crawled behind you and settled herself close. She nudged the tip of her nose to your shoulder blade, "I brought you some biscuits and water." You didn't say anything.

You felt her presence, heard her voice, but you couldn't respond to her, you couldn't reach out and move your body to curl up next to her, to guide her arm around you, but you so badly wanted to do those things, and it hurt that you couldn't.

Larissa felt your desperate attempt to move, saw how you struggled, how you muffled your whimpers and cries by pressing your face on your pillow. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here now, darling. I'm here. I'll hold you." And she pulled you with extra care to her side. Cradling your limp body close as possible, "All will be all right, love." She rocked you back and forth, quelling the lonely and empty feeling you felt before she held you in her arms.

You listened to her, let her voice fill your head to shut your own thoughts away, let her hold you so close to her you could hear her heart beating and feel the slow steady breaths she took. She silenced them away like you knew she would.

"I hope you can tell me what happened today, baby." But you weren't ready to talk, not yet. You still couldn't control yourself, couldn't contain the seething anger in your chest that left you defeated and insecure.

She took the lack of reaction as a no. Larissa didn't force you to say anything. The silence killed her, but she knew you would talk when you were ready.

For the meantime, she held you firm against her, her lips pressing dainty kisses around your face, and kissing away the tears.

Later when you finally fell asleep, she plucked herself off from your side. While she padded around the bedroom and changed her clothes, she kept you in checked, noticing the faint tremors in your breath and the creasing of your brows. She would then tiptoe her way back to the bed, her hand caressing your face and murmuring sweet nothings hoping it could reach you in your dreams. Successfully, it did smooth the lines on your forehead and hushed the cries.

After that she busied herself in the kitchen, cooking the easiest meal she could serve you knowing you would be hungry when you wake up and those snacks on the bedside table wouldn't fill you up as much. Even if she knew you wouldn't have the energy to eat, she still had to try, for you.