Eyes Don't Lie | Charles Leclerc

Part 64 | She Will Be Loved

September 25, 2023

The empty space beside me sent a jolt of worry through my half asleep mind. My hand reached out, feeling only the empty sheets where Aria should have been. I glanced at the clock, reading 3:00 AM. I woke up to a strange sound faintly coming from somewhere outside the bedroom.

I pushed back the covers, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I got out of bed and made my way down the hallway, calling softly, "Aria?" No answer.

A little light glowed from the living room, and as I walked in, I froze, taking in the sight before me. There she was, sitting on the floor, her back to the couch, surrounded by scattered photos. She held one photo in her hand, her head bent as her shoulders shook with soft sobs.

"Aria..." I whispered, my voice catching.

She looked up, startled, her eyes red and cheeks wet with tears. Seeing her like this, so vulnerable, so heartbroken, tore through me. I knelt beside her, feeling a pang of helplessness, and reached out, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"Aria...what's wrong?" I asked softly, keeping my voice low and calm. I didn't want to push her, but I needed to understand, to help however I could.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Her hand clutched the photograph, fingers shaking slightly.

"It doesn't matter," I murmured, squeezing her shoulder gently. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

She took a shaky breath, clutching one particular photo of her and her mother tighter in her hands. "It's just...I miss her," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Moving here, building a new life...it's everything I want and I've never been happier, but sometimes it's so hard to let go. I just feel...lonely sometimes, even with everything I have now."

Her words cut through me, a reminder of the loss she still carried so close to her heart. It reminded me of my own dealings with grief and loss. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close, feeling her melt into my chest as she let out a few more quiet sobs. I didn't say anything at first, just held her, letting her feel that she wasn't alone, that I was right here with her.

I nodded, feeling a surge of sympathy and the desire to take away her pain. "I can't imagine how much you must miss her," I said quietly. "But she's always with you, Aria. In everything you do, everything you are."

After a few minutes, I gently lifted her chin so she could see the sincerity in my eyes. "Aria, you don't have to let go of anything," I murmured. "She'll always be a part of your life and a part of this life we're building together too. We'll make space for her here, for all the memories. And I'll be here for you through all of it."

She gave me a small, tearful smile, resting her forehead against mine. "Thank you, Charles. I didn't mean to wake you up. I just...sometimes it hits me out of nowhere. And I know you've dealt with this too."

I kissed her forehead, taking her hand in mine. "Anytime. If you wake up at 3 AM again and need to talk or cry, I'm right here. You don't have to do this alone."

We stayed like that on the floor for a while, wrapped up in each other, until her breathing steadied and the sadness in her eyes began to fade. I could see the love there too, the quiet strength she always carried, even on the nights when the weight was heaviest. In that moment, holding her, I promised myself I'd do everything I could to be her anchor, her family, and her home.

Her head rested against my shoulder, and I felt her take a deep, shuddering breath, the weight of her grief easing slightly in my embrace. After a long moment, she finally nodded, and her grip around me tightened. We stayed there until her breathing steadied, and I knew some of her sadness had lifted. Eventually, I helped her gather the photos and led her back to bed, making sure she felt safe and cherished, surrounded by the love and memories she carried with her.