Completed on 24/09/2018
Tell me who hurt you?" It was a command. I could have been afraid and probably told the whole of my traumatic childhood but I shook my head. There was no way I was telling him my darkest secrets.
"I will find out..I always...
"I gave you my heart; I just didn't expect to get it back in pieces." ~Unknown~
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Sophie
*Unedited*
I was his from the first time our eyes met, the first time he touched me, the first time he kissed me, that first time he made love to me. I was his not for any one particular reason but for the many ways he made me feel even without trying. I was his without a doubt. But when he said he loved me in that sexy voice of his, in a soft whisper in my ear, in his language which I did not understand at the time, I knew he was mine as well.
Mine
Few days after Raphael whispered he loved me, he came in and said he'll love to take me to Rio for Christmas. I just about jumped out of my skin, running into his arms, excited to finally get a chance to go to one of the world's exotic cities.
I felt bad because going to Rio with Raphael meant I wouldn't be home with my grandma for Christmas. I had to call her and probably break her heart.
We had our own Christmas tradition—nana and I. One we started on our first holiday together.
It involved waking up early, sitting on our doorstep side by side, sipping tea, watching our neighbors running up and down in preparation for their own holiday preparations.
The best part about sitting on those steps was the many times we heard merryChristmas said to us.
It took me a long time to believe that my father was never coming back, and if he was, it wasn't going to be any time soon. That was as comforting as nana telling me if he did happen to come back, he wouldn't be taking me with him.
She couldn't allow it.
As comforting as that was, I knew my frailty nana wasn't a match for my much more overweight father.
Dialing her number, hoping she had it on her this time instead of leaving it in her bedroom as she did most times.
Luckily she answered after a few rings.
'Hey nana'
Her answer was a very unbecoming shriek, and I told her so. She was glad to hear from me; I felt it, heard it in her voice.
We talked for a while; she asked me how I was doing after the miscarriage, was Raphael taking care of me? I said I was doing alright, and yes, Raphael was taking very good care of me.
"He loves you, you know?"
I heard that, and my heart stilled like it did every time I heard it or imagined that Raphael loved me.
My grandmother was a perceptive woman; hearing her say that warmed my heart to the core. Those words also meant that Raphael had loved me before I miscarried.
