Just A Random Story

chapper twwau

~His pov~

It's been a week since I walked out of the store with her—a week that feels like both a blur and an eternity. At first, my phone wouldn't stop ringing—Kendra's name flashing insistently on the screen, each call a reminder of the life I had chosen to leave behind. She noticed, of course. One evening, as we cruised down the quiet stretch of highway, the rhythmic hum of tires on asphalt filling the air, she calmly rolled down the window and tossed my phone out without a word. I didn't protest.

"I'll get you a new one," she said, her voice light, almost too casual, as though that single act could sever the ties binding me to my past.

So far, we've stayed at two hotels, drifting from one unfamiliar room to another, like two lost souls searching for home. The first two nights, we slept in separate beds—her insistence. "We shouldn't rush into anything. We need to figure things out first." I didn't push. I could wait for her as long as it took.

But by the time we reached the second hotel, something shifted. We shared the same bed, yet even then, it felt careful, measured. We kissed—slow, lingering kisses that left us breathless, but that was all.

"We need more time," she whispered afterward, her hand resting lightly on my chest, as though she was still holding part of herself back, afraid to let go.

I didn't argue. I've never minded waiting for her. Yet, there's a flicker of doubt in her eyes, a hesitation that she tries to mask. It gnaws at me. Does she regret this?

The thought circles like a relentless tide. I can't lose her again. So, I bring it up.

"You seem... distant," I said one night, the darkness wrapping around us, the space between us feeling vast despite our closeness. "I just... I don't want you to feel like this was a mistake."

She turned to face me, eyes wide with uncertainty. "It's not that," she began, her voice soft, yet the tension in her shoulders told a different story. "I'm just... worried. What if you still love her?" The words spilled out quickly, a rush of fear that seemed to choke her. "Kendra. I mean, she was your wife for years. You had a life together, a family. I know you must still feel something for her. And what if—what if you wake up one day and miss her? What if you realize that leaving them for me was the mistake and not the other way around?"

Her rambling always used to charm me; it still does. There's something endearing about the way her thoughts unravel when she's nervous. I leaned in and kissed her, silencing her spiral of doubt.

When I pulled back, I locked my gaze with hers. "I left because I love you. More than anything. I've been waiting for you since the day you left." The weight of my words hung in the air, heavy with truth. "You're everything to me. Kendra... the girls... they were a part of my life, yes. But not in the same way. You're the one I couldn't stop thinking about. You have my heart."

And it was true. She had always been the one. From the very beginning, she was the spark that lit me up, the one who inspired me, who drove me forward, who believed in my dreams when I didn't. She was my equal in every way that mattered. My soulmate.

The life I left behind wasn't without meaning. I had loved Kendra, truly, but never in the way I love her. It was a different kind of love, one that faded into routine and comfort, not the electric charge I felt every time she was near.

"I don't regret leaving," I said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "That part of my life is over. I've experienced being married, being a father, but they didn't have my whole heart. Not the way you do."

Her eyes searched mine, still unsure, still a little scared. I could see it—the fear of abandonment, the terror of heartbreak. But I wasn't going anywhere. Not this time.

"I'm here," I whispered, my voice steady and sure. "I'm with you. This is where I'm meant to be."

Slowly, the tension in her shoulders eased, and she rested her head against my chest. For the first time since we left that store, I felt her truly relax, like she was beginning to believe me, starting to trust that this wasn't just some fleeting moment.

But underneath it all, I couldn't shake the feeling that she was still hiding something—a secret she wasn't ready to share. I could wait, though. I had waited for her before, and I'd do it again, no matter how long it took. Because in the end, she's the one I chose. The only one.