"You don't have to be so damn worried, I'll be just fine. It's time, Y/N," she said. She was right but I wasn't going to admit it. I was terrified she'd fall back into that slump. It was months after the accident. It left her temporarily paralyzed on the left side of her body. I had to juggle working and taking care of her. I wasn't so sure she'd be able to start working again.
I walked up behind her in the huge mirror. She was dressed in her uniform. "You look so cute," I said, hugging her from behind. She winced from pain, causing me to ease up. "Not so rough, baby," she breathed out. Apologizing, I kissed her cheek. "You're absolutely sure you're ready to go back?" I asked. Turning towards me, she wrapped her arms around me, pulling me in for another kiss. This kiss being more seductive, I was temped to rip off her clothes. Eight months of sexual needs I had to bury and pretend I could handle everything.
I dropped her off at work, nervously saying goodbye. I didn't want her to go, but I couldn't keep struggling alone. At home, I sat around thinking about Normani nonstop. I didn't want her to hurt herself again. She practically lived downstairs on the days I had to work. She wasn't strong enough to make it to the stairs, let alone get off the couch. I sat at work, beating myself up because I couldn't be there for her. After sleepless nights and guilt drinking, I started to wish that it had been me. I should've gotten hurt in the accident. I was so angry with myself, I took it out on Normani.
I remember the day id snapped on her. She was crying from numbness and pain, irritating the crap out of me. I told her she was a selfish brat and that she should've gotten her vocals cords knocked out in the accident. We hadn't talked about the accident at all and I crossed a line. She cried for hours, trying her best to be quiet. I yelled at her more, leaving the house for hours. When I came back, she'd been asleep on the couch. I broke down in sight of her, knowing I treated her wrong. The next morning she woke up to me lying next to her, holding her like I used to.
I couldn't go through that again. I didn't want to think so little of her either. She might've been physically impaired but she was strong.
I sat on the couch, reliving some terrible memories. Tears rolled down my cheeks, dropping onto the carpet. I aggressively tugged down my pajama pants along with my underwear. Relieving myself after months of built up tension, I broke down in tears wishing it were her. I cried into the couch cushions, screaming out my feelings. I didn't want to relive those eight months of mixed emotions, drinking, hatred and anger, and sexual tension.
I jumped at the sound of the door opening. "Baby I'm h--" she started, her sentence fading in sight of me. "How'd you get home?" I asked, rushing to clothe myself. She walked over to me, her pace tapped out by her heels. "A friend dropped me off. That's not important right now, what's wrong with you?" She asked. "I just missed you," I lied. "Oh honey," she said, kissing my lips, "we've been together for five years, I know when you lie." Sighing, I sat up. "I've been so worried you'd get hurt again. Those months were the worst and I don't want that again for either of us," I said. She laughed, kissing me on the cheek. "Baby, I work in a bakery," she smiled.
