The Heart Of The Lonely

CHAPTER 8

At the sound of the familiar voice erupting from behind her, Ariel froze, paralyzed. Time had suspended like a wound not mended. If it hadn't been for the small gap of her slightly parted lips, air would've stopped flowing to her lungs.

The timing couldn't have been more imperfect.

She hadn't wanted him to come upon, not like this. At this present time, she realized why she had felt so uncomfortable when she'd opened the door to find Brandon standing behind. She had known that it would happen and that having him, here, at her doorstep was similar to playing with a fire bigger than them.

"Do you want me to come down?" Insisted the man at the top of the stairs, inside of the beautiful home.

"No!" Her voice broke as she declared, panic-stricken.

She leaned backwards, as though she needed something to support her and inclined her head to the side so that Barrett could hear her better, talking through the space between her and the door.

"No, no, it's okay. I got it." She swallowed, managing to collect herself enough to form a proper sentence.

Her heart which seemed to have stopped beating began to pound furiously, like it had only now processed what was happening.

Meanwhile, Brandon watched her with a downcast look upon his face. He seemed abashed, resembling a puppy that had just made a mistake and sat with their tail between their legs. His world came crashing around him and he swore he'd never felt greater pain.

Why had God awoken him if he had to live a life in which the woman he loved belonged to someone else? For a second, he wished he'd never rose from his coma.

Diverting her eyes from his, Ariel looked down at her leather boots in shame. By definition, she'd done nothing wrong but the guilt she felt from deep within indicated otherwise. She had, in a way, given up on him.

"I'm... I'm so sorry." She murmured, still not looking up.

Brandon exhaled in response, not making eye contact either. What was there to say?

"I..." The redhead began timidly, after a couple of seconds.

Upon hearing her faint voice, he gathered the strength to look at her and nodded his head, encouraging her to go on.

"I tried to talk to you but uh... the doctors... they told me it was best to wait." She confessed with a trembling voice.

As he attempted to recover from the blow of the revelation, it dawned on him that she'd flown in shade of her promissive faith and had etched her story.

After all, because his had come to an abrupt stop didn't mean hers had to follow suit.

He'd once read somewhere that human beings were more often frightened than hurt and that they suffered more from imagination than from reality but the scenarios he'd made up in his mind didn't account to the amount of pain the reality of it all really was.

"I figured as much, Red."

He shrugged, his hands buried in his jeans pockets.

"I just wanted to make sure, nothing else." He offered her a sad smile.

He didn't want to make her resent herself for moving on, by any means. But he refused to pretend the news weren't devastating him.

Another silence followed and, when the tension could no longer be bearable, he took a step back.

"I'll see you soon, honey."

The pet name he'd called her came to him spontaneously and he didn't curse himself for calling her that. To him, she was still his wife and grieving the loss of their marriage was not on the list for the day.