Just A Random Story

chapter 10

~his pov~

It's been two weeks since I last called Kendra—two weeks filled with uncertainty and restless nights. Kloe and I have settled into a small town, our lives enveloped in the soft glow of a new beginning, a fragile thread of hope weaving through our days. With the leftover money, we decided to treat ourselves to a nice hotel for a few days, a temporary sanctuary from the chaos of our past. Right now, Kloe is at the pool, claiming she needs to relax in the hot tub, leaving me alone in the dim hotel room, the silence pressing down on me like a weight.

Thoughts of Kendra swirl around in my mind, stubborn and relentless, like dark clouds refusing to disperse. I remind myself I don't love her—how many times do I have to tell myself that? Yet an uninvited worry creeps in. I think of the kids and how Kendra can twist any moment into chaos, as if she has a talent for transforming their lives into a storm of anxiety. It crushes me to imagine those poor kids suffering because of her.

I need to stop this spiraling. They aren't part of my life anymore. But doubt gnaws at me, a relentless echo in the empty space around me: Did I make a mistake? Should I have stayed for them? Or maybe I should have tried to bring them with me? Each question reverberates, a cacophony of regret and confusion. Did I really make the right choice?

The door creaks open softly, pulling me from my thoughts like a lifeline thrown into turbulent waters. "Hey, doll. What you doing?" Kloe's voice is sweet like candy, and I could listen to her all day. "Just watching TV, love," I reply, momentarily grateful that I left it on to mask my internal turmoil.

"It was so relaxing. You should have come with me. We would have had it all to ourselves. I'm gonna go shower real fast and get this chlorine off me. Love you, doll." She walks to the bathroom, the sight of her peeling off her bikini almost takes my breath away. Her body is a vision—sun-kissed and radiant—and I can't help but stare as she disappears behind the bathroom door.

The sound of the shower turning on fills the room, and I feel the pull of desire and uncertainty intertwine like ivy around a trellis. Should I join her? I never quite know what she wants from me, that delicate balance of vulnerability and desire. I remind myself that I'm here with Kloe, not Kendra. But the temptation is overwhelming, and I walk over to the door, finding it unlocked—she must want me in there.

As I step inside, the warm steam envelops me, wrapping around me like a comforting embrace. Kloe is already in the shower, humming a tune that tickles my heart—"Neon Moon" by Cigarettes After Sex. The air is fragrant with the scent of her vanilla and cocoa butter shampoo, intoxicating and sweet. I watch as she lathers soap over her skin, her eyes closed, blissfully unaware—or is she?

"Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to join me, doll?" Her voice pulls me closer, igniting a spark in my chest that feels both thrilling and terrifying. I quickly strip off my clothes and hop in, letting the warm water wash over me like a gentle embrace. She opens her eyes, a playful smile lighting up her face, and I can't resist the urge to trail my gaze over her body, lost in the moment.

Later...

Kloe lies asleep on the bed, draped in soft blankets, her only coverage a pair of delicate panties that accentuate her curves. I take my time admiring her, each breath a reminder of how different she is from Kendra. With Kloe, everything feels lighter, more vibrant—like I'm breathing fresh air after being trapped in a stuffy room for too long. I sit next to her on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under my weight. She stirs but doesn't wake, her face peaceful, utterly content.

My mind drifts to Kendra, and I can't help but contrast the two. Kendra would often sleep late, hungover, ignoring the soft cries of our children, lost in her own turmoil. But Kloe? She looks utterly serene, as if the world's burdens are far removed from her dreams, her innocence untainted by the weight of responsibility. I watch her, captivated, feeling a flutter of affection in my chest. When she's awake, it's as if she wears a mask, always guarded and composed. But in her sleep, she seems untouched by anything heavy, a soft light in a dark world.

I reach out, lightly brushing my fingers across her cheek—smooth, soft, perfect. She slowly opens her eyes, and they lock onto mine, instantly filled with warmth and light. "Hey, how'd you sleep, princess?" I whisper, my voice low and tender, afraid to disturb the magic of this moment.

"Mmm, pretty good. I had a dream we got a dog and named her 'Muggins.'" Her laughter dances in the air, brightening the room, and she stretches, her body arching in a way that makes my heart race. She reaches for my hand, and I take it, feeling the warmth radiate between us, a connection that pulses with possibility.

"Muggins, huh? I love it. Maybe we should get a dog, love." I smile at her, a sense of hope blooming inside me, fragile yet persistent. Does she really see a future with me?

"I would love that, doll. We should wait till we can afford our own place, though." She chuckles again, and I feel a thrill at the thought of our own space—a home filled with laughter, love, and maybe even more pets—or kids.

Is she serious? I study her face, searching for any sign of doubt, but as our eyes meet, I see nothing but sincerity. I squeeze her hand, and she smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy, tears glistening as if reflecting the light of a thousand stars. In this moment, she looks more radiant than ever.

At that moment, the world outside fades away. It's just us, our hands intertwined, a promise of what could be, blossoming like wildflowers in the spring—fragile yet resilient, bright against the backdrop of everything we've left behind.