When Tim came home that night, he was exhausted. Exhausted from his workday, exhausted from his therapy session, exhausted from life—just utterly drained. He was also disappointed. He was supposed to see her tonight, but everything felt upside down after therapy. He sent her a text, apologizing and telling the truth: he wasn't able to handle the night, wasn't ready to talk about it, and just needed to be alone.
He grabbed a beer from the fridge, opened it, and sat on the couch. Kojo wasn't at his feet, as the dog was spending a few days with his nephew—part of a genius plan to convince Genny to get a dog.
The house was calm, quiet, except for the noise in his head. Today's therapy session had been rough. They talked about everything—from his relationship with Lucy to his father. They opened doors that had been locked and hidden for years. Tim started with good memories of his childhood, but then the conversation turned to his father.
Tom Bradford was not a good father; he was the opposite—an abusive alcoholic. His method of parenting was beyond questionable. If you were a boy, you had to be tough, never show or share emotion. You had to learn the hard way. And if you were a girl, your purpose was to serve. Your place was the house, mostly the kitchen. And if anyone disagreed with him, he resorted to hitting—hard, to "teach the lesson."
Outside the house, Tom Bradford often seemed like a nice man. But behind closed doors, he was a monster, his bottle of whiskey always on the table next to his chair. He never attended his kids' practices, never played with them, never read them a bedtime story. Instead, he once abandoned Tim in the middle of nowhere with only a compass and a map to find his way home. In Tom Bradford's eyes, he was just teaching his son to be a "real man."
More than once as a kid, Tim had protected his sister and mother, taking punches in their place. When he was old enough, he ran away and joined the army, determined never to speak to his father again. He thought he was protecting himself. Life in the army wasn't easy. Tim lived through experiences he'd never forget and did things because he was ordered to. But the way his father had raised him helped him survive.
When Tim returned from the army, he was a mess. But, true to his father's lessons, he kept everything bottled up because he was a man.
Life after the army and his father didn't get any easier. If he were honest, before Lucy, Tim had often wondered if his life had any meaning at all. He thought about how easy it would be—he had a gun, it could be quick. But somehow, life brought Lucy into his world. From day one, she became the reason he didn't give up on himself. Maybe that's why he was so hard on her during her rookie year—he cared too much.
But eight months ago, Tim had broken up with her, shattering his own heart in the process. He loved her so much that, knowing what it was like to stay with someone who was emotionally damaged, he left her. He remembered how miserable he was when Isabel left him, disappearing because she wasn't herself anymore. Tim wasn't on drugs like Isabel, but he was depressed. His mental health was in a critical state, and he didn't want to drag Lucy down with him. He left her in the name of love, hoping she'd understand one day.
Initially, he wanted to run away, like when he joined the army to escape his family. But he saw the look in her eyes before he walked away, and he didn't want to destroy her more than he already had. He needed her, even if she was angry. He needed to see her, hear her. So instead of running, he listened to her when she said he needed help from someone other than her. He went to therapy. The first therapist turned out to be corrupt—one of the biggest cases of the year.
His determination to become a better man—for himself and for Lucy—pushed him to find someone else. He left his pride at home and started over. Seven months later, he was still in therapy and noticed the changes. His relationship with Lucy had improved—more than he had hoped for. He had finally given her the adult conversation she deserved, in his therapist's office. That day, she let him speak, saying only, "Thank you. I needed that." Then, she didn't talk to him for half a week as she processed everything—the vulnerable Tim, his story, his reasons. But most of all, she processed his final words: "I'm still in love with you, and I will be for the rest of my life. You were my butterfly effect."
One night, she met him in the same parking lot where he had broken her heart. This time, she talked and he listened.
Lucy was still in love with him. She wanted a future with him, more than anyone else. He had saved her, brought her back to life. When he explained why he had left, using Isabel's past and his own mental struggles, something in her heart began to heal. He was human. He was broken. But he was her broken human. She was ready to give him another chance—only if he was willing to let her in and let her help. She knew it wouldn't be easy. One week later, he asked her on a date. Something simple. They talked about what they wanted, what they needed, and set boundaries. Six months after breaking up with her, he kissed her when he dropped her off at home.
Tonight, more than ever, Tim couldn't stop thinking about his future with her. He wanted to marry her. He wanted kids with her. Kids. But what if he turned out like his father? What if he chose the hard way to raise them? What if his trauma never healed? What if he hurt them or Lucy? The questions tormented him, and he was terrified of becoming the same monster his father had been.
He wasn't okay. He left his beer on the table, grabbed his keys, and drove. Twenty minutes later, he was standing in front of her door. When she opened it, she saw him—his hands in his pockets, his eyes red. He looked like a wounded child. She let him in, closed the door, and took him into her arms. They sat on the couch in silence.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.
He looked at her, so vulnerable, and then he spoke. She listened. The hardest part for her was hearing him express his fear of becoming his father someday—with their kids.
"I want forever with you, Luce. I want kids with you, but I'm so afraid of becoming him. I'm afraid I'll hurt them, raise them the wrong way. I'm scared I'll lock them in a 'no emotions allowed' box like he did... I—"
"Tim, look at me. You are nothing like him. You know that. You are nothing like him."
They were the same words she had said to him when he visited his father in hospice. She switched off the living room light and opened the bedroom door. "You coming?"
After undressing, he joined her in bed, curling himself against her.
"I love you, Tim. I know today's session was hard on you. Close your eyes, I'm not going anywhere."
"I love you."
As she played with his hair, Tim found comfort in her embrace. It didn't matter anymore that he was vulnerable in front of her. She was his safe place.
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20.10.2024. Hello, hi everyone. I woke this morning with this idea. I've two OS in my mind to write. I will try to do my best to write them soon as possible. Please comment and vote, it helps. Take care of you :)
♫ Heal - Sleeping at last
