Hoops & Harmonies

46.

Angel sat on the edge of the hotel bed in Atlanta, staring at the dim light coming through the window. It was late, and though her body was tired, her mind wouldn't let her sleep. The thought of Monica being so close, yet so distant, was eating away at her. She had flown all this way to be near her, but Monica hadn't reached out, hadn't given her any sign that she was ready to talk.

Earlier in the day, she'd sent another text to let Monica know she was here, giving her space but hoping for something—anything. But there had been no response, just the silence that was driving Angel crazy.

She glanced at the bedside clock. It was almost midnight. Her phone sat on the table, silent and still, no new messages, no missed calls. She had spent the entire evening pacing back and forth, checking her phone every few minutes, waiting for it to light up with Monica's name.

Angel sighed deeply, pulling her knees up to her chest as she sat on the bed. She felt like she was losing her grip, like no matter how hard she tried to fix things, she was just slipping further away from Monica. The guilt weighed heavily on her chest. She had messed up, and now she didn't know how to fix it.

The flowers hadn't worked, the texts hadn't worked, and flying to Atlanta had done nothing but make her feel even more anxious. She loved Monica with every fiber of her being, but love wasn't enough right now. Trust had been broken, and she didn't know if Monica would ever trust her again. The thought of losing her was terrifying, but Angel knew there was nothing more she could do. She had to wait, give Monica the time and space to decide what she wanted. But waiting was so hard.

Back at the house, Monica sat on the couch in the living room, her legs curled up under her. The house was quiet, the kids already asleep upstairs. She had spent the evening trying to distract herself with movies and cleaning, but nothing could stop her from thinking about Angel.

Her phone was on the coffee table in front of her, and she had seen Angel's message earlier, but she hadn't responded. She didn't know what to say. Part of her wanted to reach out, to tell Angel that she missed her, that she wanted to fix things too. But the other part of her, the part that was still hurt and angry, kept her from picking up the phone.

Monica stared at the dark screen of her phone, thinking about the conversation she had with her mom earlier in the day. Her mother's words had been comforting, but they hadn't taken away the pain. Trust is something that takes time to rebuild, her mom had said, and Monica knew that. But how much time? How long would it take for her to feel safe with Angel again?

She stood up and walked over to the kitchen, her mind still swirling with thoughts. She poured herself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, staring out the window at the dark night sky. She hated feeling like this, torn between her love for Angel and the fear that things would never be the same again.

Monica sighed and took a sip of her water. The truth was, she missed Angel. She missed her presence, her voice, the way she made her feel when they were together. But this wasn't something that could be fixed with a few sweet words or a bouquet of flowers. This was deeper than that. Angel had broken her trust, and trust wasn't something that could be repaired overnight.

As she stood there in the quiet kitchen, Monica's thoughts drifted to their life together—the good times, the love they had shared, the family they had built. She thought about all the moments that had made her fall in love with Angel in the first place, the laughter, the support, the way Angel had always been there for her. But then, her mind went back to that picture, to the sneaking around, and the hurt came rushing back.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced at it, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw Angel's name on the screen. Another message.

Angel: "I'm still here, Monica. Whenever you're ready, I'm here."

Monica stared at the message for a long time, her finger hovering over the screen. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to respond. Her emotions were all over the place—she wanted to reach out, but she also wanted to protect herself.

She locked the phone and placed it face down on the counter, turning away from it as if that would stop the emotions from swirling inside her. It didn't.

Angel lay in bed, her eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. She hadn't been able to sleep, and the silence of the hotel room was suffocating. Every minute that passed felt like an hour, every second without hearing from Monica was like a punch to the gut.

She rolled over onto her side, grabbing her phone and scrolling through the old photos of her and Monica. Pictures of their family vacations, random selfies they'd taken together, moments when things had been good between them. Her heart ached as she looked at the images, remembering how happy they had been.

She stopped on a picture of them at the beach, both of them smiling, arms wrapped around each other. It had been a perfect day, the kind of day that reminded Angel why she loved Monica so much. She wanted that back. She wanted to go back to the way things were before she messed up. But she couldn't. She had to live with the consequences of her actions.

Angel typed out another message to Monica, then deleted it. She typed another one, then deleted that too. She didn't know what to say anymore. Everything felt wrong, like no matter what she said, it wouldn't be enough to fix the damage she had done.

Frustrated, Angel tossed her phone aside and sat up in bed, running her hands over her face. She couldn't keep doing this. She couldn't keep waiting around for something that might never happen. But what else could she do? Monica needed time, and Angel had to respect that, even if it was killing her inside.

The next morning, Monica woke up to the sound of her phone buzzing. She reached for it, still half-asleep, and saw a notification from her calendar reminding her of a meeting later that day. She groaned and put the phone back down, not ready to face the day yet.

As she lay in bed, her thoughts drifted back to Angel. She knew Angel was still in Atlanta, waiting for her, giving her space. Part of her appreciated that, but another part of her resented it. Angel had put her in this position, had made her feel like she couldn't trust her anymore, and now she was the one who had to figure out how to fix it.

Monica sat up and looked around the room. It felt empty without Angel. She missed the little things—the way Angel would bring her coffee in the morning, the way they would laugh together over silly things. She missed the way Angel made her feel loved, even when things were tough.

But love wasn't enough. Not anymore. Trust had been broken, and Monica didn't know if it could be repaired.

She got out of bed and went downstairs to make breakfast for the kids. As she moved around the kitchen, her mind kept drifting back to Angel, to the messages she hadn't responded to, to the flowers that were still sitting in a vase on the dining room table.

After breakfast, Monica sent the kids off to school and sat down at the kitchen table, her coffee in front of her. She stared at the flowers, the bright colors standing out against the gray morning light. They were beautiful, and she knew Angel had sent them as a way to apologize, but they didn't erase the hurt.

Her phone buzzed again, another message from Angel.

Angel: "I miss you. Please, just talk to me."

Monica sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on her. She couldn't avoid this forever. She had to make a decision—whether to forgive Angel and try to move forward, or to let her go and move on with her life.

She picked up her phone and stared at the message. Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she started typing.

Monica: "We need to talk. Meet me at the park later today."

She hit send before she could second-guess herself, then set the phone down, her heart racing. This was it. She was going to face Angel, and she didn't know what the outcome would be.

All she knew was that she couldn't keep living in this limbo. She needed answers, and she needed to know if their love was strong enough to survive this.