Hoops & Harmonies

48.

Angel sat alone on the park bench for what felt like hours, even though it had only been a few minutes since Monica walked away. Her body felt heavy, like the weight of everything was pressing down on her shoulders. The park around her was quiet, except for the distant sound of kids playing on the swings, and the occasional bark of a dog. But none of it registered in her mind. All she could think about was Monica.

Monica's last words echoed in her head: "I need time. I don't know what I want right now."

Time. That's what Monica needed, but Angel didn't know how long that would be. Days? Weeks? Maybe even months? She felt panic rise in her chest. What if Monica never wanted to talk again? What if this was the end? The thought made her stomach twist.

Angel took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She couldn't lose it here, not in the middle of the park. She wiped away the few tears that had escaped her eyes and stood up. She needed to leave. Sitting here wasn't going to solve anything, and it was only making her feel worse.

She slowly made her way to her car, her feet dragging with every step. The short walk to the parking lot felt like a mile. Her heart ached with every movement, and her thoughts were clouded with worry. When she finally reached her car, she opened the door and sat down in the driver's seat, staring blankly at the steering wheel.

For a moment, she just sat there, trying to pull herself together. She wasn't sure what to do next. Part of her wanted to drive to Monica's house and beg her to talk more, to beg her to come home. But she knew that wouldn't help. Monica had asked for space, and Angel needed to respect that, even though it hurt like hell.

Angel reached for her phone and scrolled through her contacts until she found the number for the flower shop she'd been using the past few days. Every morning, she had been sending Monica flowers—roses, lilies, sunflowers—anything to try to show her how sorry she was. Today, she would do the same.

She dialed the number, and after a few rings, a cheerful voice answered on the other end. "Good afternoon, Blooming Petals. How can I help you?"

Angel swallowed hard, her voice cracking a little as she spoke. "Hi, I need to order flowers again. For... Monica."

The woman on the other end paused for a moment before responding kindly. "Of course, Ms. Angel. What would you like to send today?"

Angel closed her eyes and thought for a moment. "Roses. A dozen red roses."

"Would you like to include a card?"

Angel hesitated, unsure of what to say this time. The last few cards had been simple—"I'm sorry" and "I love you." But now, she needed something different. Something more.

"Yeah," Angel said softly. "On the card, can you write: 'I'm still here. Waiting for you. Whenever you're ready.'"

There was another pause on the other end before the woman responded. "I'll make sure that message is included. We'll deliver them today."

"Thank you," Angel whispered before hanging up.

She leaned her head back against the headrest and sighed. The flowers were just a small gesture, but they were all she could do right now. Angel had always been the kind of person who wanted to fix things right away, to jump in and solve problems. But this was different. Monica didn't want to be fixed. She wanted space.

Monica stood in the kitchen of her house, staring blankly at the cup of coffee in her hands. It had grown cold, but she hadn't even noticed. Her mind was too busy racing with thoughts of the conversation she had with Angel earlier at the park.

She wanted to forgive her. Deep down, she missed Angel so much it hurt. But the trust was broken, and Monica didn't know if she could ever get it back. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that picture—the one that had started all of this. Angel, sitting in a car with another man, smiling like she didn't have a care in the world. It made Monica's stomach churn just thinking about it.

Her mom's words from their conversation days earlier played on a loop in her mind. "People make mistakes, Monica. But it's up to you to decide if this mistake is something you can forgive."

Could she forgive Angel? Could she let go of the hurt and move on? Monica wasn't sure.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced at it and saw a message from the flower shop. Another delivery. Angel had been sending flowers every day, and today was no different. Monica sighed, her heart feeling heavy.

She hadn't asked Angel for the flowers, but she understood why she was doing it. It was Angel's way of showing that she was sorry, that she was still trying. But the flowers weren't fixing anything. They were just a reminder of the distance between them.

Monica walked to the front door and opened it just in time to see the delivery driver walking up with the bouquet of red roses. She forced a small smile and accepted them, nodding her thanks before closing the door.

She carried the flowers to the kitchen and set them on the counter next to the others. The kitchen was starting to look like a florist's shop with all the bouquets lined up. Monica stared at them for a moment before pulling the small card from the envelope.

"I'm still here. Waiting for you. Whenever you're ready."

Monica's chest tightened. She knew Angel was waiting, but she didn't know when, or if, she'd ever be ready to move forward. The pain was still too raw, too fresh. She loved Angel, but love didn't erase the hurt.

Monica set the card down and took a deep breath. She didn't have the answers yet, but she knew one thing—she needed more time. Time to figure out if she could trust Angel again. Time to decide if she could let go of the betrayal she felt.

Later that evening, Angel sat in her living room in Chicago, staring at her phone. She had come back home after seeing Monica at the park, not wanting to stay in Atlanta any longer. The waiting was torture, but she knew she had to give Monica the space she needed.

Angel kept checking her phone, hoping for a message from Monica, but there was nothing. She had to remind herself that Monica needed time, and there was no rushing that. But it was hard. Every minute that passed felt like a year.

She had thought about calling or texting, but she didn't want to push Monica. The last thing she wanted was to make her feel pressured. So instead, Angel sat there in silence, her mind filled with questions and worries.

What if Monica never forgave her? What if this was the end of their marriage?

The thought of losing Monica and their family tore Angel apart. She had never imagined her life without Monica in it. They had been through so much together, and now, one mistake had the power to tear everything apart.

Angel stood up from the couch and walked to the window, staring out at the city lights below. Chicago was home, but without Monica and the kids, it didn't feel like home at all. The apartment was too quiet, too empty. She missed hearing Londyn's laugh and Monica's voice. She missed the small things—sitting on the couch together, cooking dinner, talking about their day.

The loneliness was suffocating, and Angel didn't know how much longer she could take it.

She turned away from the window and paced the room, her mind racing. Maybe Monica just needed a little more time. Maybe tomorrow she would hear from her. Angel clung to that hope because it was all she had left.

Finally, exhausted from the emotional toll of the day, Angel crawled into bed. She stared at the ceiling, her heart heavy. Sleep didn't come easy that night, and when it finally did, her dreams were filled with images of Monica—images of the life they had before everything fell apart.

Meanwhile, back in Atlanta, Monica sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the pile of clothes she had taken out of the closet earlier. She hadn't been able to bring herself to put them away or pack them. Her heart was torn between staying and leaving, between giving Angel another chance or walking away for good.

She loved Angel. That much was clear. But love wasn't enough to erase the betrayal she felt. Monica needed to know that she could trust Angel again, and right now, she wasn't sure if she could.

As she sat there, the weight of the decision pressing down on her, Monica realized something. No matter what she chose, it was going to hurt. There was no easy answer. But she also knew she couldn't keep avoiding it. She had to make a choice, one way or the other.

But for now, she needed more time. And that was something only she could give herself.