Our Lives feel so new

Fragile

Tamara's POV

I haven't been to the prison to see Rosemary in a week, I kept her updated, wrote everyday to appease her, I would have no choice but to keep her like this, I would sigh deeply as I stared at the grimy grey walls of the prison I would gulp and look down at the pavement, shuffling my feet a bit before I start walking again, the gravel crunching under my steps, I would look at the entrance and would pass my belongings to the officer so that Rosemary doesn't have a chance of grabbing anything to escape.

Third Person (again) POV

In the months that followed, Rosemary lived for the moments she could catch glimpses of Tamara, whether through news reports or fleeting mentions in letters from mutual acquaintances. Knowing Tamara was living her life outside these walls, perhaps healing from the ordeal, was a source of bitter comfort. But Rosemary never expected Tamara to visit her in prison, to willingly step back into the orbit of the woman who had caused her so much pain.

When Tamara finally sat across from her, separated by a glass barrier, Rosemary felt a mix of emotions—relief, joy, and a twisted sense of victory. Tamara was here, willingly, and that meant everything to Rosemary. Tamara looked different, older in a way that spoke of emotional wear and tear. Her eyes were shadowed with an exhaustion that seemed deeper than physical tiredness. As she began to speak, Rosemary leaned in, eager to drink in every word.

Tamara spoke haltingly at first, her voice a soft murmur barely audible through the intercom. She talked about how she and Maria were no longer speaking, how the trauma of what had happened had driven a wedge between them. They had tried to support each other, but the weight of Rosemary's actions and the ensuing scandal had proven too much. They had drifted apart, unable to bridge the gap that had opened between them. As Tamara spoke, tears welled in her eyes, her voice cracking under the strain of suppressed emotions.

For Rosemary, this revelation was like a dark, exhilarating confirmation of everything she had wanted. She had succeeded in isolating Tamara from Maria. Even if the method had been extreme, the result was what she had envisioned in her most secret, fevered dreams. Tamara was now alone, without Maria's influence, and Rosemary felt a perverse sense of accomplishment. In her twisted logic, she believed this meant Tamara would finally see her, understand her love, even if it had manifested in such a disturbing way.

As Tamara continued, expressing her confusion and loneliness, Rosemary fought to maintain her composure. She wanted to comfort Tamara, to reach through the glass and hold her, to say all the things she had rehearsed in her mind during countless sleepless nights. But she knew any overt display of emotion would be counterproductive. Instead, she kept her tone even, her face a mask of concern and understanding. Inside, however, she was euphoric. Tamara was finally turning to her, even if only out of a lack of other options. The reality of their situation prison walls, guards, and the consequences of her actions faded into the background. All that mattered was the emotional connection she felt burgeoning between them.

The conversation eventually wound down, Tamara's visit brief and somber. She stood to leave, offering a strained smile and a promise to return. Rosemary watched her go, every fiber of her being straining towards Tamara as she walked away. Once Tamara was out of sight, Rosemary was escorted back to her cell. The door clanged shut behind her, and the harsh reality of her situation reasserted itself. Yet, despite the coldness of her surroundings, Rosemary felt a warmth blooming in her chest.

She had done it. Tamara was isolated, just as she had wanted. The fact that it had come at such a cost both to Tamara and to herself barely registered in her mind. In Rosemary's distorted perception, this was proof that their destinies were intertwined, that her actions had, in some twisted way, been justified. She convinced herself that Tamara's loneliness and estrangement from Maria were steps towards the inevitable realization that Rosemary was the one who truly understood her, who had been willing to go to any lengths for her love.

As she lay on her bunk, staring at the ceiling, Rosemary replayed the visit in her mind, savoring every detail. She ignored the nagging doubts, the flashes of guilt that threatened to undermine her sense of triumph. Instead, she focused on the fact that Tamara had come to her, had shared her deepest vulnerabilities with her. It was a victory, however dark and perverse, and in the isolation of her cell, Rosemary clung to it with all her might. In her mind, this was the beginning of a new chapter, one where Tamara would finally see her as the one constant in her life, the one who had always been there, waiting.

But the one thing that did sound back into Rosemary's mind that then halted her twisted beliefs was Tamara's words. "Thanks to you so no longer have a chance to be with someone I feel truly loves me and protects me." When Rosemary remember those words she felt the anger boiling in her chest, as happy as she was thinking that Tamara might finally be noticing her, but it seemed she also wasn't. This would cause her look up at the ceiling and glared slightly before she would then look away.

She would curl up in bed before laying on her back and frowned deeply, clenching her jaw before slamming her hand down on the rickety bed she had genuine tears in her eyes before she would shake her head and look away she would scoff and rolled her eyes. "You will end up loving me.. even if I have to kill the ones who hold your attention from me.." she muttered to herself, she curled up on her bed again, when she heard the footsteps of one of the guards, she faked sleeping just to not deal with them.