My Dearest, [ Alexander Hamilton | Reader ]

• Chapter Twenty-Nine •

[ Sensitive topics are predominant, feel free to skip if you have any discomfort. Your comfort is much more valuable to me than reads.

The time is around November 1794. ]

...
The atmosphere in the house was heavy, especially at night where the only thing that could be heard was the subtle autumn breeze hitting against the walls and windows. It was an absolute void, or better yet, she was a void. She truly did attempt to pay no attention to the pain, however it seemed to always be there in the back of her mind. She knew it wasn't okay for her health to allow herself to become so miserable yet, there she was, [Hair color] locks spread across the bed as she lied, motionless.

She stared towards the ceiling, pointing out patterns that she could see in the dim light as if she were stargazing. The children had long gone to bed, she was alone consuming in terrible thoughts. She couldn't bare for them to see her in such a pathetic state, they thought of her as strong. Her actions most certainly could not be considered strong, she was absolutely hopeless. A lump began to gather in her throat, she breathed deep in hopes to stop herself from weeping, but to no avail.

A shaky breath was let out followed by a sob, she placed her hand over her mouth in attempts to soften them. She moved to her side, curling her knees near her chest as she felt tears slowly falling to the mattress. It wasn't rare at all to loose an infant, it was unavoidable yet, there she was much like a porcelain vase, so very frail. She could recall what felt like just the other day excitement was present, her Alexander smiled, brown eyes glistening in intoxication. She couldn't forget her darling children's reactions, how they danced.

"My love..?"

Her breath hitched as the voice ripped through her sobs, she hadn't expected him to return home so soon. His cabinet meetings, although now very rare, lasted until early morning. She attempts to stifle her sobs, but to absolutely no avail. Instead, it seems like they increase in volume rather than decrease. The weight of the mattress is soon slightly shifted, a soft hand is felt against her shoulder. It's gentle, attempting to be comforting.

"You really must face me, dear."

He whispers, a hands going through her hair in short gentle strokes. She slightly turns, tears still brimming in her eyes as she's met with his eyes. The eyes that even in slumber remained weary
( –so very tired ), they're filled with empathy. Hands weightless travel to her tear-stained cheeks, rubbing the falling tears. He tilts her head downwards, pressing his lips against her forehead lovingly.

"I've resigned from position."

"R-Resigned? Alexander, you couldn't have."

"If I cannot be there for you in position, so be it."

Her lips slightly quivers, a feeling of suffocation going over her from keeping her sobs in. In addition, a wave of guilt had washed over her. He'd given up something that had been his pride for her. It was something he had worked for, to throw it away was extremely drastic. A much more violent sob escaped causing her to hunch over to his chest. He simply wrapped his arms around her head, having the occasion comforting whisper until the exhaustion of the day consumed her completely. Before retiring himself, he presses a last kiss to the locks of her hair at the crown of her head.