Perfect Illusion: Scars Saga 2

Broken

Because I feel giving to today....and I really don't want to think about the week ahead...

I feel I must warn you, however, have the box of tissues close at hand. This has been the hardest chapter to write so far; I hate hurting my characters....

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Chapter 16

Broken

February 18, 1979

Things with Remus had only deteriorated since Lily's birthday. The silence between us was deafening. We were lightyears apart while sitting in the same room. Walking around the house was like wading through a mine field; we were so fearful of setting the other off, we hardly even glanced in the other's direction. When he left for the last full moon with the wolves, he was gone for a whole week without so much as an Owl to say he was still alive.

The one good thing to have emerged from the last month was that my morning sickness had subsided a little.

The hiss and sizzle of the simmering soup drew my attention to the stove. I walked over, lifted the lid, and stirred. The aroma made me salivate, but I could find no pleasure in it. I was cooking dinner for the two of us. It didn't matter that we hadn't spoken to each other all day; I still made him dinner. Tonight it would be his favorite: chicken noodle soup. It was Hope's own recipe. I decided to make the soup not because it would bring him some small pleasure, but because it was simple and easy. And it helped soothe an uneasy stomach.

I heard him enter the room behind me and sniff the air.

"I know that smell," he said. "You're making my Mum's soup."

"Yes," I replied, even though it wasn't a question. "And it's ready. Can you grab the bowls?"

I heard him open and close a nearby cupboard to retrieve two bowls. He set them on the counter near me and headed towards the fridge.

"What would you like to drink?" he asked.

"Just water." I ladled a few scoops into the bowls.

"Are you sure? We have pumpkin juice. Or there's..."

"Just water."

"Right...water..." he said coolly.

There was a stiffness in the air between us. He sighed and I sighed. Then I turned towards him and tried to smile faintly.

"Pumpkin juice will be great."

He gave a faint smile back and poured us each a glass. He carried our drinks to the table while I followed with the bowls. As I handed him his soup our fingers brushed together. The fire I once felt was more like a dying ember.

We sat across from each other like we usually did and ate in silence. The scrapping of spoon against bowl was the only sound to be heard. It seemed we'd expended our conversation for the day.

"This tastes...different."

Or perhaps not. My eyes flashed up to look at him.

"Not a bad different," he said quickly. "It's still delicious. It's just...different. Did you change something?"

I shrugged. "I ran out of rosemary, so I used sage instead."