How Could You?

18 - 1

Wilson

As I sat there astounded, I couldn't shake off the uncertainty that gripped me. Leona's consent to our weekend conversations felt like a double-edged sword - a chance to redeem myself, yet a risk that she might uncover more secrets and abandon me for good.

For a moment, I regretted my agreement, tempted to keep my hidden truths under wraps forever. But a selfish whisper in my mind urged me to preserve the fragile harmony we'd established. After all, things were finally clearing up for us.

But then my conscience kicked in, reminding me of the pain I'd inflicted. I saw the walls Leona had built around herself, a protective barrier against me. Our once-effortless intimacy had withered away, leaving an uncoverable distance.

Even the simplest gesture, holding her hand, filled me with anticipation. Would she recoil, haunted by the memories of that incriminating video? Every attempted touch felt like a potential trigger, a painful reminder that I didn't had any rights on her as I once did.

Every day, hope and despair wrestled within me, only to succumb to the crushing reality as night fell. The ultimatum echoed in my mind: I still hadn't regained Leona's trust. The foundation of our relationship, once rock-solid, now lay in ruins. I could rebuild everything else - our laughter, our conversations, our shared moments, but trust, that elusive, precious commodity, seemed forever lost. The hanging roots of my betrayal hung upon us daily, a constant reminder that I might never again know the unwavering faith she'd once placed in me, the faith I'd so callously destroyed.

Yet, a glimmer of hope, no matter how faint, refused to be extinguished. It fueled my determination to make one final, desperate attempt. Perhaps, I thought, this was the redoing we needed, a last-ditch effort to revive what was lost.

The possibility, however remote, tantalized me: could this be the turning point, the chance to redeem myself and reclaim Leona's trust? The uncertainty was suffocating, but I clung to it, willing to risk everything for that elusive, final chance.

The weekend's arrival brought a mix of anxiety and resolve. As I anticipated our scheduled conversation, my nerves began to fray, exposing the depth of my apprehension. But alongside the distress, a sense of urgency and conviction took hold. I realized that this confrontation with my past mistakes was long overdue, and that I should have mustered the courage to face Leona's pain and questions much sooner. The delay had only intensified the depths of my guilt, making this moment all the more crucial.

"Leo, I-I, was,"

"What I mean to say is,"

"I-I... I just don't know where to start," I stammered dejectedly, as I sat across from Leona. My mind was a maelstrom of thoughts, fears, and doubts, each one tumbling over the other in a chaotic mess. My emotions and guilt leaving me speechless and helpless.

I felt like I was standing at the edge of a precipice, staring into skies of uncertainty, with no clear path forward. Leona's expectant gaze only added to the pressure, making my heart race with anticipation.

"We can start in portions," Leona suggested, her voice gentle. "Like when you landed your dream job, and you..." Her words trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished, but the unspoken meaning hung behind. This was the woman who had once revered me, who still cared for me despite my betrayal.

"Right," I cleared my throat, trying to wipe my clammy hands on my face or legs. I nodded to myself, taking a deep breath as I began to confront my mistakes.

"I was over the moon when I landed that job," I started.

"It felt like a win I never thought I'd achieve, like I'd somehow fooled everyone into thinking I was worthy. I felt like I was in over my head, and I needed to hold onto it, to prove myself, to be impressive...and to give it my all." My words trailed off, but Leona's silent gaze encouraged me to continue. She listened intently, her expression calmly understanding.