A week goes by before I can blink.
Both my husband and I buried neck deep in our respective work lives. I had my final draft three quarters finished and my husband was working on the project he had been speaking about to me, spending most of his time at work.
We barely had time to speak, but somehow, he made time or I did. Sometimes, I would drop by his work and share lunch with him. Or he would come home his usual time—instead of late into the night—and we would just...watch a movie. Or discuss my script that he had somehow made the time to read after I had sent it to him. Or his work. Or ...anything. Politics. Tradition. Culture. Marriage. Life. Cartoons. Anything.
We spoke until I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore.
Most of the time I fall asleep where ever we were seated and I know my husband carries me to bed and tucks me in. But I never remember it, having fallen deep into sleep. I only know of it because I wake the next morning in my bed.
I had—miraculously—made time to meet with my parents. I realised I had burrowed myself so deep into my life after marriage, that I had forgotten to tend to my roots. So, I spent the evening with them, laughing softly, teasing, enjoying their need to pamper their 'married and away' (as they referred to me) daughter with food, love and joy.
That day was the second time my husband called me. I had been in mid-laugh about my parents fighting over the stove as was their usual, when my phone dances on the table, flashing my husband's name. A little worried, I pick up immediately.
"Kri," I whisper into the phone, standing and moving a small distance away to the door as my parents bickered in the background oblivious to me.
"Alanna."
I let out a small breath, realising that he was alright. This wasn't an emergency call.
My lips twitch, because not a moment of being in his presence goes by without me feeling the need to verbal-spar with him. Make him smile and if I were really really lucky, rile him up.
"Are you missing me, husband?" I ask, "Calls aren't your thing."
"On the contrary, they're exactly my thing." He says.
I roll my eyes, "Mm hmm." I grin, "Because we chat so much over the phone."
"Why would I chat with you over the phone if I could speak with you in our home?"
His question is so genuine, as if he truly could not see the point, that my heart melts. I smile, looking down at the toe I was dancing along the ground, unknowingly.
"What's up?" I ask him.
"When are you returning?" He asks, straight to the point.
I look back at my parents, who I realise had moved closer to me and were making a very visible effort to listen in on my conversation—having turned away and pretending to be busy when I looked over my shoulder at them. I smirk and turn back, taking another step into the corridor that lead to the main hall and leaning against the wall there.
"In less than an hour." I say.
A small silence. My brows furrow.
"Kri?" I murmur.
A rough breath against my ears, "Come back home, Alanna."
The words curl around my heart and squeeze. Liquid heat enters my veins.
"Where are you?" I ask softly, the sudden intimacy of our conversation spilling into my tone.
Silence for another few seconds before—
YOU ARE READING
TimeBound (Time Tells #1) (COMPLETED)
Romance"Who says your life ends only when your heart stops? It ends even when there's a celebration around you." A marriage. To a man who had saved my parents' life. Their respect, their businesses, their home ... But at a cost. The cost being me. I was...
