WHISPERS OF LOVE

7.Max

🎧 Listen to🎵 Falling by Harry Styles 🎶

***"

In the dimly lit room, I felt a surge of responsibility for Emma's well-being. She needed comfort, and I decided to take a step to provide it — as if it's my role to be the one to do it. I start off by setting up lit candles all over the room, the bathroom, and the closet.

Walking into the bathroom, I start running a warm bath for her, hoping it would help soothe the lingering distress from the blackout. I'm so glad the water had warmed earlier before the lights went out.

The soft glow of the candles, strategically placed throughout the room, turned each corner into a haven of tranquility. The flickering candlelight cast shadows on the tiled floor, creating a dance of illumination and darkness, mirroring the delicate balance we were navigating.

I put my body wash, body scrub, and a new loofah for her to use.

Her room is down the hallway from mine, meaning I could go get her bath products, but I don't want to leave her alone, so I let her use mine, hoping she'll be fine with them.

As the water fills the tub, I look at myself in the mirror, contemplating the unusual but necessary act of kindness I was about to offer. With a deep breath, I walk out of the bathroom and into the closet. I take one of my t-shirts and briefs, leaving them folded neatly for Emma on the bathroom counter.

As I left the bathroom, the closet beckoned with its offering — a clean navy blue towel that spoke of an intimacy I hadn't anticipated. Placing it on the bathroom counter, right next to my folded t-shirt and briefs was a silent affirmation of trust, a subtle acknowledgment that transcended the boundaries of the ordinary.

I hope she finds this comforting, and not weird in anyway.

Returning to the room, I find Emma still seated on the bed, staring into nothing. Her mind lost elsewhere. Without saying a word, I gesture toward the bathroom, indicating that everything is ready for her.

She nods appreciatively, a silent acknowledgment of my gesture.

After Emma disappears behind the closed bathroom door, I approached the mirror, catching a glimpse of my own reflection. The flickering candlelight softened the lines on my face, revealing a gentleness that I seldom allowed to surface.

This act of kindness, however unconventional, felt like a bridge connecting two disparate worlds.

I turn my attention to preparing something warm for her. I'm not much of a cook, but I try. Walking to the kitchen, my phone lighting the way, different types of foods come to mind. I settle with chicken soup.

I know a hot bowl of soup could provide comfort in difficult times.

I start by chopping fresh carrots, celery, and onions. The chopping of fresh vegetables echoed through the kitchen, a symphony of flavors coming together to create a comforting melody.

In a pot, I sauté the vegetables in a bit of olive oil until they are tender. Then, I add a generous amount of chicken broth and bring the mixture to a simmer.

While the broth is simmering, I shred cooked chicken breast and add it to the pot. The simmering pot became a metaphor for the night. My part-time housekeeper must be the one who had earlier prepared the chicken in hopes I'll have it for dinner.

Seasoning the soup with salt and pepper, I add a touch of herbs for flavor. Finally, I let the soup simmer until all the flavors meld together, creating a comforting and nourishing bowl of chicken soup for Emma.

On arrival in my room, I find Emma still in the bathroom. It's quite unusual she stays that long in there, but I'm not about to push her. That's the last thing she needs right now.

Carefully setting the bowl on my bedside table, I sit on the edge of the bed caught in a silent vigil, waiting for her. I couldn't shake off the concern that lingered in the room.

The dim light casts shadows on the walls, and the hushed silence amplifies the weight of the night. I glance at the closed bathroom door, hoping that Emma would find solace in the bath and the simple comforts I had provided.

Looking at the time, forty minutes have passed since she went in. I try staying awake for her, but eventually, fatigue catches up with me. I take off the suit I had worn for the board meeting today, exchanging them for the comfort of loose sweats.

Despite it being cold, I don't sleep with a t-shirt on. It's a norm for me. I settle into the right side of the bed, keeping a vigilant watch over the room, ready to offer support when Emma emerges from the bathroom.

I'm not sure if she'll be comfortable sharing the same bed with me. It's big, therefore I doubt we'll get into any contact whatsoever. If she's not okay, I'll just shift to the couch.

The night unfolds, a delicate dance between concern and care, as I drift into a restless sleep, awaiting the moment Emma would find her way back to the world outside that bathroom door.

***

I wake up with a start and notice that majority of the candles are burned out. Picking my phone from the bedside table, I check the time.

2:23 am.

Turning to my left, panic surges through me noticing Emma isn't beside me in bed. A mix of worry and fear grips me.

I rush to the bathroom, my heart pounding. The sight before me halts my frantic thoughts. Emma was there, peacefully sleeping in the tub. Relief floods over me, washing away the tension that had built up throughout the night.

"Emma"

I call out but I doubt she'll hear me. Taking the initiative into my own hands, I gently wake her, expressing my concern. She looks up at me with tired but grateful eyes. We share a moment, a silent understanding passing between us.

She gets up and I help her, just then all blood drains from my face and rushes south.

She's naked, and I'm... staring.

Emma sees me staring but she's too tired to protest. Quickly looking away, I grab the towel I had placed on the counter and hand it to her.

She wraps it around her petite self and without any second thoughts, I lift her from the bathtub and place her on the counter. She grabs the t-shirt on the counter an puts it on over the towel. She's about to fully remove it to put on the briefs when I turn.

Once she's done, I lift her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

"I'll sleep on the couch." I whisper to her as she tucks herself into my comforter.

"Stay" is all she says and the next thing I know is I'm under the covers, her body inches from mine.

"Good night Max ."

She delicately murmurs, I almost don't hear it. A smile forms on my face.

The events of the night had forged a connection, and in that night, I knew that despite the challenges ahead, we were in this together.