I'll wait for you (Dayasco)

The lake

The soft glow of the lamp in the living room cast shadows across the worn couch, where I sat hunched over my notebook, pen scratching furiously against paper. My mind, usually a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts, was focused, each word I wrote a building block in the world I was creating. Sleep had eluded me that night, my mind buzzing with story ideas, a symphony of characters and plots demanding to be born.

Daya had been sleeping soundly beside me, his soft breaths were usually enough to get me to sleep, but not tonight. I tiptoed out of the bedroom, careful not to disturb him, and settled on the couch, the familiar comfort of the worn cushions welcoming me. My pen danced across the pages, fueled by the quiet intensity of the night, the only sound the scratching of my pen and the occasional rustle of the pages.

The hours slipped by unnoticed, the early morning light creeping in through the window. I was lost in a world of my own making, oblivious to the passage of time, until a familiar sound broke through my concentration. The soft thud of Daya's footsteps on the hardwood floor, a telltale sign of his nocturnal bathroom trips. I raised my head, my eyes adjusting to the dim light, and saw him standing in the doorway, his sleepy eyes a stark contrast to the vibrant energy I'd been channeling just moments ago.

"What are you doing up baby?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"Couldn't sleep, I felt too inspired," I mumbled, feeling the wave of exhaustion crash over me. The writing frenzy that had fueled me for hours suddenly dissipated, replaced by a bone-deep tiredness.

"Come back to bed darling," he said, his voice soft, laced with concern. He walked over to me, his hand gently resting on my back, and led me back to the bedroom. Slipping under the covers, I felt him beside me, his scent of sleep fresh sheets enveloping me. He ran his fingers through my curls, the gentle touch calming me.

The morning sun filtered through the blinds, painting the room in a warm golden hue. Daya stirred beside me, his eyes blinking open as he stretched and yawned. He kissed my forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled away, the remnants of sleep clinging to his voice as he mumbled, "ive gotta go to work baby, ill see you tonight."

I watched him disappear into the bathroom, the image of him, dressed in his waiter's uniform, a stark contrast to the man who had held me in his arms just moments ago. The evidence of our intimacy lingered on my skin, the remnants of his touch like whispered secrets on my neck and chest. I traced the purple marks, the soft swell of them a reminder of the night's passion.

After showering, I sat at the kitchen table, my laptop open, the screen reflecting my own sleepy eyes. I had four story proposals I wanted to send to my editor, hoping she would be able to guide me, help me make the leap from struggling writer to published author. I had poured my heart and soul into each one, weaving tales of love, loss, and hope, hoping to capture the essence of the human experience.

The email from her came within the hour. A single sentence, but it sent a jolt of electricity through me: "Love them all! Let's start fleshing them out."

My heart soared. It was the validation I needed, the nudge I had been waiting for. The day flew by in a blur of writing, fuelled by coffee and the thrill of creation. I was so engrossed in my work that I barely noticed the hours passing, my world shrinking to the confines of my laptop screen and the stories unfolding within it.

I hadn't eaten or even stopped to use the bathroom, my mind was far too engrossed in fleshing out my proposals.

Daya called me on his break at work, Hearing his soft voice snapped me out of my writing trance. "Hey baby, Luxx asked if we wanted to go swimming at the lake tonight and have a bbq by the water, Irene will be there too, since it's a nice sunny day."