ᴏɴɪᴋᴀ ᴍᴀʀᴀᴊ
I sighed deeply as I unlocked the door, the weight of a twelve-hour shift at the hospital pressing down on me. The familiar creak of the door closing behind me was almost a comfort as I made my way upstairs, my feet moving automatically to Omari's room. Pushing the door open slightly, I peeked in and felt a wave of relief wash over me. He was peacefully asleep, his small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. I closed the door gently, not wanting to disturb his slumber, and turned towards my own room.
When I opened the door, the sight of Kevin asleep in our bed made my heart tighten with resentment. I rolled my eyes in frustration, a familiar feeling that had become almost second nature to me. The desire to leave this place, to escape with Omari and never look back, grew stronger with each passing day. I couldn't stand being here anymore, but for now, I had no choice.
Quickly, I grabbed the clothes I'd be sleeping in and hurried out of the room, making my way to the bathroom in the hallway. The hot water from the shower was a temporary relief, washing away the grime from my shift, but not the weariness that settled deep in my bones. I let the water run over me, hoping it would somehow wash away the memories, the pain, but it didn't.
After drying off, I went downstairs to the TV room, my new sleeping quarters since I had returned to this house. The couch had become my bed, and though I tried to make it comfortable, it was a poor substitute for what should have been my sanctuary upstairs. I pulled back the covers, fluffing the pillows, and settled in, trying to find some semblance of peace.
As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, I couldn't help but ask myself again, *Why am I the one sleeping on the couch?* Kevin should be the one exiled to this uncomfortable space, not me. But I couldn't bring myself to sleep in that bed after what I had seen. The image was burned into my mind—Kevin, with someone else, in our bed, where we had once shared so many moments.
Sleep didn't come easily, but eventually, exhaustion won out. As I drifted off, I clung to the thought that one day I would get out of here. I would take Omari and leave this place behind, reclaiming the peace and happiness that had been stolen from me. Until then, I would endure, finding strength in the love I had for my son and the hope of a better future.
The next morning, I woke up to the faint sound of cartoons playing on the TV, a reminder that Omari had woken up before me. I rubbed my eyes and sat up on the couch, my back stiff from another night of uncomfortable sleep. The blanket had slipped off sometime during the night, leaving me exposed to the cool morning air. I pulled it back over my shoulders, trying to savor the last few moments of warmth before facing the day.
Omari was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his eyes glued to the screen, completely engrossed in the colorful characters dancing across it. He looked so peaceful, so innocent, and it broke my heart to think of the turmoil that lay just beneath the surface of our lives.
"Good morning, my handsome boy!" I said, trying to keep my voice light as I forced a smile. He turned to look at me, a wide grin spreading across his face.
"Morning, Mommy!" he chirped, his energy infectious despite my exhaustion. "You slept on the couch again?"
I hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. "Yeah, I did," I finally replied, keeping it simple. "How about we make some breakfast together?"
Omari's face lit up at the idea, and he scrambled to his feet, running towards the kitchen. I followed him, determined to start the day on a positive note, even if everything else felt like it was falling apart. We worked together to whip up pancakes, Omari's favorite, and for a little while, I allowed myself to forget about everything else.
