The hours after their argument felt like a blur to Remy. The silence in the house was deafening, and the air felt heavy, like it was pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. Drea hadn't spoken to her since she walked out of the living room, and Remy didn't know how to fix it—how to fix them.
She paced the living room, glancing at the clock every few minutes, hoping Drea would come out of the bedroom. But the door stayed shut, and the longer the silence stretched, the more anxious Remy became. Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, all circling back to one painful realization: she had hurt Drea in a way she never imagined she would.
"I should've married someone else."
The words echoed in her mind, haunting her. She hadn't meant them, not at all, but that didn't matter. Drea had heard them, and now they were out there, hanging between them like a wall.
Remy sank onto the couch, running a hand over her face. She felt sick to her stomach, guilt gnawing at her. How could she have said something so reckless, so hurtful? She loved Drea—more than anything in the world—but in the heat of the moment, she had let her frustration get the best of her, and now she didn't know how to take it back.
After what felt like an eternity, the bedroom door creaked open, and Drea stepped out, her face pale and drawn. She didn't look at Remy as she walked past her and headed to the kitchen. Remy watched her, her heart pounding in her chest. This was her chance—her chance to fix this before it got any worse.
"Babe," Remy called out softly, standing up and taking a tentative step toward the kitchen. Drea didn't respond, her back to Remy as she poured herself a glass of water.
Remy took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "Can we talk?"
Drea's shoulders tensed, and for a moment, Remy thought she was going to ignore her. But then Drea turned around slowly, her expression guarded.
"What's there to talk about?" Drea said, her voice quiet but filled with hurt.
Remy swallowed hard, her heart aching at the sight of Drea's pained expression. "About what I said earlier," she began, her voice shaky. "I didn't mean it, Babe. I swear, I didn't. I was just mad, and I said something stupid. I—"
"Stupid?" Drea interrupted, her voice rising as she set the glass of water down on the counter with a sharp clink. "That's more than just 'stupid,' Remy. You don't just say something like that in a fight. You don't just tell your wife you should've married someone else."
Remy winced, guilt twisting in her chest. "I know," she said quickly, taking a step closer. "I know I messed up, Drea. I was out of line, and I'm so sorry. I would never—"
"Do you even hear yourself right now?" Drea cut in, her voice shaking. "You don't just apologize for something like that and expect everything to be fine. You made me feel like I don't matter to you, like this—us—doesn't matter."
Remy's chest tightened. "That's not true," she said, her voice breaking. "You matter more to me than anything, Drea. I love you. I don't know why I said that, but it's not how I feel. You're my world."
Drea's eyes flashed with hurt and anger as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Then why would you even think to say it, Remy? Why was that your first response? Because you didn't pull that out of nowhere."
Remy opened her mouth to respond but hesitated, unsure of what to say. Drea was right—those words hadn't come out of thin air. She had said them in the heat of the moment, but they had come from somewhere, and now she had to face that.
"I don't know," Remy admitted quietly, her voice thick with emotion. "I don't know why I said it, Drea. I was mad, frustrated, and I wasn't thinking. But I know I hurt you, and I'll spend the rest of my life making it right if that's what it takes."
