What happens when a traumatic accident triggers painful memories.
Will Chrissy be able to regain her power and the truth or will she sink into a deeper hole?
Will Lorenzo be able to protect his family and restore his fiancé peace of mind? Find out i...
I pulled into the garage of our house and released a deep sigh that I didn't know I was holding. It's been almost six months since that fatal accident. I'm trying to be her rock, her security blanket, and all while trying to go through the grieving process myself. I know she was carrying our child but it was my child as well. I was happy and excited to be a father and to help bring our beautiful child into this world, together. Some days I wanted and needed her...those days I felt selfish like my needs didn't matter because she physically was present during the miscarriage. Her grieving process seemed more important than mine. Grief...the word itself seems so empty, so out off place. There were many nights where I cried myself to sleep and as weak as that may make me to my enemies, I felt stronger. Every tear released was a part of the healing process for me but it still didn't take the pain away from our loss. It's been no secret that death has always been around me and most of the time I'm the reason for it. But this is different, it's like a stain that's impossible to get rid of. Oh, the depths I'll go to for her, my love, Chrissy. If I could take her pain and multiply mine I would. She hasn't spoken much and she refuses to look at me. Every time I walk in our bedroom she leaves and goes and sleeps in another room.
I miss her...
Honestly, I'm dreading this moment. Every day I come home I cringe because a home is not a home without our happiness together. I set my keys down on the table in the foyer. My thoughts were interrupted when I see Chrissy coming down the stairs looking beautiful as the day I met her.
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I smiled and my heart starts racing as I turn my head to her. She looks so healthy and happy...I haven't seen this side of her in a long time. Usually, when I come home she's locked in what use to be our room and the times I do see her she looks distraught and depressed. Her eyes were always red from the crying and she quickly began to lose weight. Her curves were still present from the looks of this outfit but I was shocked when she walked right past me as if I wasn't present in the room.
I've given her more than enough space and clearly she looks like she's in a better mood and condition. So, this tone I'm about to take may come as a shock to her and me...
"Where the hell you going?!"
She keeps walking and starts switching her items from one purse to another.
"Excuse me...hello!" I yell again waving my hand in front of her face.
She pivots around me and heads to the closet to grab her black leather jacket. She proceeds to the front door and reaches for the handle.
I grab her wrist.
"What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you not hear me calling you?!" I yell.
"Where are you going? You can't speak to your husband but you're walking out of our house looking like this?" I could feel the back of my neck heat up because I was pissed. Moreso because she'd rather go out than talk to me. I've been by her side the entire time and she can't even look at me.
