A marriage is like a rose; a romantic keepsake having the combination of thorns and petals. The red hue of the petals symbolizes love, and passion and is soft to touch. The thorns that lay on the stem, however, represent adversity and sacrifice.
De...
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Shit.
Holy Shit.
He's back home. How on earth am I supposed to face him now? I knew it was him when his deep voice reverberated through the living room. But that was an hour ago and I don't dare to leave my room yet.
The cause of my hesitation is unknown to me. Perhaps, the hesitance is just the thin layer that covers the disgust I have towards that man. Pure disgust. But he's handsome, so it's a little adulterated.
It's a weekday, so he must've gone to work by now.
I'm safe, I think.
Puffing out air, I stepped out of my room in fresh clothes and tied up my hair. I wasn't completely alone because I was living with Papa Walker temporarily, hence my appearance mattered.
Lo and behold, the sight I despised lay seated in the dining area, munching his cereals peacefully as if he hadn't left the house with his wife all alone for days. I had nothing to say to him. I'd rather skip breakfast than interact with him.
I was about to take a U-turn when he noticed my presence and cleared his throat.
"Hey,"
I hated how tempting he sounded.
"Oh hey," I replied, as if just noticing him.
"Had a good rest?" He asked, his eyes appearing seemingly bigger than usual. They continued to watch me as if searching for something.
He was dressed in neat formals and several strands of his beautiful hair fell on his boyish face so delicately.
He was only initiating disinteresting small talk, "Where's your dad?"
"In the backyard," He responded, "Tell me, did you sleep well last night?"
I didn't understand why he was so keen on getting an answer from me when it didn't even matter to him. Oh, what? Was I guilt-tripping him with my coldness now?
I suppressed the urge to walk away and instead made my way to the table where he sat.
"Good." I lied, not caring enough to ask him anything back.
He nodded his head and took a morsel of his toast while I perched on the chair directly opposite him. I grabbed the cereal box and poured some into a bowl that rested on the table at some distance. I didn't see any milk and mentally sighed before I stood up.
"Wait," He spoke out. Taking his now empty plate and bowl towards the kitchen, I stood in my place, watching his actions, confused. He came back with a plate of bread and a mystery bowl.
He placed them on the table as I stood there even baffled, "Here's your breakfast. Sandwiches and Oats Porridge."
