Bring Me To Life

Breakfast fiasco

Jennifer's perspective

The following day, Ben and I went out shopping, stealing a moment away from the kids amidst the vibrant chaos of our lives in Georgia. Despite the initial hope for a calm pause in our careers, our reality was different than we anticipated. Ben's schedule overflowed with multiple jobs, and I found myself devoting six nightly hours to studio recordings for an upcoming adult animated series.

Our day began with getting breakfast.

While in the car, a contemplative silence enveloped Ben. Yet, his hand found its place in the subtle contours of my leggings, resting comfortably on my inner thigh. Lately, he had become notably more affectionate, something I loved about him. I loved the constant touch and the warmth of his hand in mine.

At a red light, our eyes met, and he offered a soft smirk before leaning in for a kiss that seamlessly transitioned to his lips exploring my neck

"I'm not wearing panties, and you're about to set off a waterfall down there," I confessed with a soft moan.

He responded, his voice a low groan, "Then we'll find a secluded spot in the woods, and I'll take care of it." He left a small hickey on my neck a little bit above my collarbone.

"Papi, the light," I gently reminded him, as a soft moan escaped me while he nibbled on my neck.

He pulled away, refocusing on the road as our journey continued.

When we arrived to the restaurant, he pulled into a parking spot.

In the gentle morning light streaming through the restaurant window, Ben and I sat facing each other, surrounded by a heavy silence. Our orders were placed, and an air of anticipation lingered between us. I hoped Ben would break the quietness, initiating the conversation.

As time passed, the silence persisted—an undeniable void that accentuated the clatter of cutlery and distant conversations. The unspoken tension hung in the air, a territory neither of us dared to explore.

In the midst of the quiet, Ben's hand found mine—a connection in our disconnected atmosphere. His touch offered comfort, yet I yearned for more, a desire for his voice to bridge the growing emotional gap.

While Ben remained engrossed in his phone, my gaze shifted to the lively cityscape beyond the restaurant window. The urban hustle sharply contrasted with the stillness at our table. I wished for a verbal connection from Ben, a chance for our voices to mingle and dissolve the mounting distance.

Reflecting on the shared moments, the unspoken exchanges, I pondered the significance. A silent plea echoed within me, hoping that Ben would break the silence, initiating a conversation to rekindle the warmth we once cherished.

Our breakfast plates untouched. There was a palpable tension in the air, and I couldn't hold back my feelings any longer.

"Ben, we've been having dinner every night, but I miss the quality time we used to spend together," I admitted, a hint of sadness in her voice.

Ben, absorbed in his phone, looked up with a furrowed brow. "Jenn, I know it's been hectic, but these opportunities in Georgia are too important to pass up. I need to put in the extra hours."

I sighed, pushing my food around on my plate. "I get that, Ben, but I feel like we're just going through the motions. I want more than rushed dinners and quick conversations."

Ben nodded, understanding the strain in my words. "Jenn, this is a critical time for my career..."

"But what about our present, Ben? I miss the long talks, the lazy weekends, the spontaneous moments," I confessed, my eyes pleading for understanding.