Reflections of the choices

Сhapter eight

I wake up every morning with my head up in a daze

Everybody tries to tell me that I'm going through a phase

I don't know if it's a phase, I just wanna feel okay, yeah

"Popular Monster" by Falling in Reverse

Colin lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling utterly drained. The silence in the room was deafening, his thoughts wandering in the darkness, colliding with the pain and despair that consumed him. For the past few days, he had not left the house, avoiding everyone and everything. Once, he had a wife, children, and though he hadn't been the happiest, he knew he had responsibilities, a family. But now? Now he had nothing.

He had lost Marina—the woman he had tied his life to—and the children he had considered his own. Although they were not his biological children, he had loved them with all his heart, and the thought that he would no longer be their father tore his soul apart. They had been a part of his life, his joy during difficult times. He remembered teaching them to ride horses, reading them bedtime stories, and his heart ached with the pain of those memories.

But had he truly been happy in his marriage to Marina? This thought crept into his mind like a quiet whisper that gradually grew louder. He realized that in recent months, their marriage had not brought him joy. He had felt the distance between them growing with each passing day, and despite his efforts, he couldn't recapture what had been lost. Maybe Marina's departure had freed him from a burden? Maybe now, with her gone, he could find his true happiness? These thoughts suddenly brought him a sense of relief, but along with it came guilt. How could he feel relief knowing he had lost the children?

He tried to think about Penelope, who had always been there for him and who had stirred so many new emotions within him, but his mind was too overloaded. All these thoughts and worries filled his head, leaving little room to reflect on what was truly happening in his heart. Even when he tried to picture her face, images of Marina and the children appeared instead, and it was unbearable.

There was a knock on the door, and Colin reluctantly got up from the bed. He knew who it could be. Violet, his mother, would never leave him alone in such a state. He invited her in, and she quietly entered the room, her face filled with concern and worry.

"Colin, my dear," she began softly, sitting down beside him on the edge of the bed. "I can see how much you're hurting. You've been through so much these past few days, and it's okay to feel broken."

Colin couldn't meet her gaze; his eyes were fixed on the floor. He knew that his mother always saw him as he tried to be—strong, caring, always ready to help others.

"You have always been one of my most sensitive children," Violet continued, her voice full of tenderness. "Always aware of what others need, always trying to be helpful, or offering a joke to lighten the mood. You so rarely put yourself first. I am proud of your sensitivity, but living to please others? I imagine it can be wearying at times—painful, perhaps. So, I do not blame you for putting on armor lately. But you must be careful that the armor does not rust and set so that you might never be able to take it off."

These words pierced Colin's heart, and he felt a tear slide down his cheek. He hadn't allowed himself to cry in a long time, but now he couldn't hold back the emotion.

"I just... I don't know what I want, Mother," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I thought I wanted to be with Marina, to be a father, but now I'm alone again."

Violet smiled gently and stroked his hand. "You've lost so much, Colin, and you need time to figure out what you truly want. And remember, your feelings matter. Don't rush into decisions that might hurt you even more."