The Love Of My Life

Chapter 10

Maya's POV

After we had sex, the world felt quieter, softer somehow. My husband's arms wrapped around me as we drifted off to sleep, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt safe. Completely and utterly safe. The kind of safety that didn't just protect me—it held me together.

When I woke up, the room was dim, the soft glow of mid-morning creeping in through the curtains. Tony was still asleep, his breathing deep and steady, his face relaxed in a way that made him look almost boyish. I carefully slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb him. The air felt cool against my skin as I grabbed my robe to put on, and I moved to the couch by the window and picked up my phone. I stared at the screen for a long time, my thumb hovering over the American Airlines app. For days, I'd been so certain about leaving, about putting space between us. I thought running would be easier that way—to avoid everything I was afraid of facing. But now, after last night, I wasn't so sure. I didn't want to leave. Not without him. Not when we were finally finding each other again. I discovered my flight details and rescheduled for tomorrow. The same flight as Tony's. It was a small thing, but it felt monumental.

A choice to stay, to give us one more day together before we stepped back into the chaos of our lives. After I put my phone down, I glanced back at the bed. He hadn't moved. His face was turned slightly to the side, his hair tousled against the pillow, the sheets tangled around him. I couldn't help but smile. He looked so peaceful, so content. And for a moment, I just sat there, watching him. He's amazing, I thought. Truly amazing. Not just because of the way he loves me, though that's part of it. It's the way he's always loved me, even when I made it hard, even when I pushed him away. He never stopped trying, never gave up on me, even when I was sure I didn't deserve it. He's patient in ways I'm not. Strong in ways I'll never be. And no matter how much I pull away, he's always right there, waiting for me to come back to him. I thought about all the times I'd taken him for granted, all the moments I let fear or anger cloud the way I saw him. But now, sitting here, looking at him, it felt so clear. Tony wasn't just my husband. He was my constant, my safe place. And no matter what else happened, I knew one thing for sure: I didn't want to lose him. I leaned back on the couch, tucking my legs underneath me as I let the silence settle around us. My gaze never left him, and with each passing second, I felt a little more certain. We weren't perfect—not by a long shot—but we had something real. Something worth holding onto. And as I watched him sleep, I made a quiet promise to myself: I would try. For him, for us. Because Tony wasn't just amazing—he was everything.

I sat there for what felt like hours, watching him sleep. The way his chest rose and fell in that steady rhythm was comforting, almost hypnotic. I wanted to let him rest, to let him have this peace, but deep down, I knew I couldn't keep avoiding this any longer. He'd been trying to talk to me for days, and I'd been shutting him out, too afraid to open up, too afraid of what it might bring. But last night had changed something in me. For the first time in weeks, I didn't feel like running. I took a deep breath, steeling myself as I slid off the couch and walked back to the bed. Sitting beside him, I reached out and gently brushed my thumb over his face. His eyes twitched, and then slowly, he stirred, blinking up at me with a groggy confusion. "Maya?" His voice was rough with sleep, and it hit me harder than I expected. Just hearing him say my name with that soft concern made my chest tighten. "Hey," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Can we talk?". He blinked a few more times, propping himself up on his elbow as he looked at me. "What's wrong?" His brow furrowed, worry already creeping into his face. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, but my throat felt tight like I might choke on the words before I even started. "Yeah, I'm okay. I just... I think we need to talk. I owe you that. I owe us that." I said He sat up fully now, leaning back against the headboard. His gaze stayed locked on mine, searching, waiting, but he didn't rush me. He never did. That was the thing about my baby—he always gave me space, even when I didn't deserve it. I took another deep breath, my hands twisting nervously in my lap. "I know I've been shutting you out," I began, my voice trembling. "And I know I've hurt you. I've been... scared, baby. Scared of saying the wrong thing, scared of feeling too much, scared of you seeing me like this. Weak. Lost. A mess." I said He opened his mouth to say something, but I shook my head quickly. "Please, let me finish," I said, and he nodded, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as he gave me his full attention. "I've been carrying so much," I admitted, my voice breaking. "And I don't know how to put it all into words. But I've been angry—at everything. At myself, at life, at you, even though you've done nothing but love me. And that's the hardest part. You've been so patient and so good to me, and I don't know how to handle it. It makes me feel guilty because I don't feel like I deserve it. I don't feel like I deserve you." I finished, Tony's expression softened, but he stayed silent, letting me pour it all out.