The Don's Wife

59 | No More Lies

We stayed that way for quite some time. Her breaking down in tears, me quietly stroking her hair, calming her down, while realigning my vision as well as consciousness to its normal working condition. At least  working enough to grasp whatever situation I'm currently in. But for Rosie to be in such mess, I reckon it must be something relatively fucked up.

When her sobs have subsided, I eased her into the question. "What happened?"

She slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes, sniffling.
"You got shot. In the chest.."

As she said so, I glanced down and found myself dressed in a patient gown, with a patch of gauze on my chest peeking out of its collar, and an IV attached to my arm.

Ah– them bastards finally got me huh?

"It was so sudden, I–" She paused to look at my wound, gulped, then turned her gaze to me. "Why didn't you tell me?"

By her tone, her lines of expression, disappointment was unmistakable. And although her beauty is also as unmistakable, with my wakefulness already in its entirety, I've come to see her swollen, bloodshot eyes from undue crying, dark circles from restless hours, her pasty complexion, barren of the rosy glow that vivifies her spirit, even her eyes were missing of their gleam.

To know such crushing sight was of my doing..
I failed her yet again. Made her cry yet again.
What a piece of shit.

Mustering all of my strength, I tried to sit myself up. Thought it would hurt, surprisingly didn't, probably thanks to the painkillers. And with Rosie's immediate aid it wasn't as difficult as well considering how stiff my whole body was.

"I just didn't want to worry you." I weakly extended my hand to her, hoping she's still willing to take it.

She did.

"That certainly didn't work out, did it?" Even though she strike me with bitter sarcasm, she did. And I'm glad she did.

As long as she decided that these hands are worth taking still, I'll never quit trying to be the man she deserves. That is my vow.

"I'm sorry." I rubbed my thumb over her knuckles. "Tell you what, from now on, you can be sure that you'll have this man 'lay himself bare like an open book'." Before she could recognize whose words I borrowed, I diverted her mind with a playful tug on her hand. "Forgive me?"

But instead of getting cross, or teasing me in return like her cheeky self normally would, she lowered her head, eyes averted, figure shrunk like that of a child who got caught on their petty mischief.

"If anyone needs forgiveness, it's me."
She said sheepishly.

??

"For what?"

When there's no reply, I urged gingerly so as not to daunt her in any manner. "Rosie, for what?"

"Everything!" Her brusque retort conveyed exasperation, but seemed more towards herself than me. "For burdening you with my feelings only to insolently avoid you after, for violating your boundaries, for causing you harm, for- for this entire marriage even!" In a state of panic, her answers spilled out all at once in one breath.

"Woah, hey– hey, slow down." I cooed, placing my free hand on top of hers. "Why do you say that? Take it easy, talk to me."

Thankfully, that managed to simmer her down a notch. She took a moment to steady her breathing, collecting herself in order to lay out a more coherent clarification. Yet even so, her gaze won't move from her lap. Or rather, couldn't. Either way, for now, I chose to leave it be.