He'd gone beyond his player ways for her.
She'd grown beyond her traumatic past for him.
Together, their love was beyond.
Until one fatal accident.
__________
When she loses the love of her life in a car crash, Althea has nothing left in California...
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*ALTHEA'S POV*
October 21, 2023.
Up, down, forward, a dip to the right, another one, and then... the left.
My mouth moved in sync with Asher's lips, and soon, all of me followed: my gaze, of course, my nerves, but also my breath and my heart rate as I whispered through a tense and crooked rictus,
"Yes, you're getting there."
However, it all tumbled down with Asher's lips into a twisted line.
"You always say dat, but I never get there."
"But you're getting closer," I pointed out, keeping my half smile and letting it stretch on both sides. "You've already made a lot of progress."
He might not have noticed it; nevertheless, I was well placed to see every millimeter of progress, sitting in front of him, barely three inches away from his face, two times a day for the past four days.
By now, I could retrace the jagged line of the scar near his eyebrow with my eyes closed. I could certify that he still had three dimples when he laughed heartily. I could glimpse the tiniest crack of chapping on his rosy lips, and mostly, I could note the effects of our 'unconventional facial PT'—as Dr. Rollings had called it.
Well, it was the same standard exercises they had demonstrated, yet adapted to Asher because sitting in front of a mirror to watch the movements of his face wasn't his thing. Not anymore.
To think the guy with his arms around me and a confident grin on the wall next to us now tensed at his mere reflection on a phone screen.
Every time I was sure he couldn't shatter my heart more, these tiny little shards cracked more, and I wished he could have seen his true reflection through them.
But for the moment, the closest image I'd managed to show him was by mirroring his facial expressions when he did those exercises, and luckily, staring at me with his piercing green intensity was still something he liked a lot, making the physiotherapy tolerable for him.
"'Kay, let's get over the speech," he grumbled after taking a sip of water from his straw flask, as these exercises tended to dry the mouth.
At least, it was what I'd found doing them with him.
"No, we won't do this today," I replied, watching his lips stretch more than they had during the past 30 minutes.
Something else I'd learned: there was nothing like surprise, relief, and joy for his muscles to relax naturally.
