His Loving Eyes [18+]

38

Earlier that day

I wake up in the middle of the night, my heart pounding and my breathing ragged. Images from my nightmare flash through my mind, a stark reminder of a past I've tried so hard to bury. It's been a while since I've had these dreams, and waking up like this feels like a punch to the gut.

I look over at Evelina, sprawled out on my side of the bed, her dark hair making an artful mess on the pillows, her pale soft skin a stark contrast against the dark silk covers. She looks so peaceful, and for a moment, I just watch her breathe, admiring her beauty.

Quietly, I tuck her in and press a gentle kiss to her cheek before heading to the bathroom to get ready. The mirror reflects a face that carries too many burdens, and I grip the sink tightly, my knuckles turning white as I press hard.

Images of her dead body flash through my head. Her lifeless eyes staring back at mine. Shit. She was stabbed 23 times in the abdomen, and the detectives on the case said that she fought hard. She had many defensive wounds, and the crime scene told the story of the horrors she suffered. Because I touched her body and shook her, trying to wake her up, I contaminated the crime scene. It was never said to me directly, but I read it secretly in the articles. They said that I contaminated the crime scene. I always blamed myself for the cops' inability to find her killer.

I merely wanted to bring her back to life by moving her. I wasn't thinking straight. I would do anything to have her again, to sit with her and tell her all about what I've achieved.

After showering, I slip into a navy-colored suit, the fabric cool and comforting against my skin. The suit fits perfectly, its tailored lines giving me a sense of control in an otherwise tumultuous day. As I leave the bedroom, I can't help but stand at the door for a moment, watching Evelina sleep. She looks so peaceful, her dark hair spread out like a halo on the pillows, her soft, even breathing calming my racing thoughts.

Finally, I tear myself away and head downstairs, finding comfort in the fact that Helena and Peter haven't arrived yet. I decide to skip breakfast, the knots in my stomach making food unappealing. Instead, I grab my keys and head out, my mind set on visiting my mother's grave.

The flower shop is quiet at this early hour, the shopkeeper barely awake himself. I select a bouquet of lilies and roses, my mother's favorites, and pay the florist with a quick nod of thanks. He gives me a sympathetic smile that tells me he remembers my usual order.

The drive to the cemetery is somber, each turn bringing back memories of her. I park the car and take a deep breath, steadying myself before stepping out into the chilly morning air.

When I reach her grave, I kneel and place the flowers gently on the headstone. The chill of the morning air bites at my skin, but I welcome it, needing something to focus on other than the pain in my heart.

"Hi, Mum," I begin, my voice barely a whisper. "It's been a while since I visited. I miss you every day. Things have been... complicated. I think I'm in love with Evelina, my wife. It sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? But it's true. I just don't know if she feels the same way about me. We want different things in life, and this marriage is just an agreement. I don't know how to bridge the gap between us."