26 True Love
- True Love
- True Love
Michelle
The night with my daughter was better than I expected. At first, she was a bit reluctant, but soon she began to relax and speak with the spontaneity typical of children.
“And my friend Michael likes my friend Libby. He says they’re going to get married when they grow up. Mommy, I don’t want to get married. Is that wrong?”
I listened to her chatter away excitedly. I don’t remember her being like this at home. We used to do her homework together, but there wasn’t much personal conversation. Perhaps taking her away from her father for a few moments might help us build a bridge of trust, to be not just mother and daughter, but friends.
“No, it’s not bad,” I reply gently. “If that’s how you feel, only you have the right to decide what you want for your future.”
She nods, and I see in her eyes that she likes my answer, that it reassures her.
“Mommy… today at school they were talking about divorce. A classmate’s parents are also getting divorced, and he’s very
sad. I am too.”
Her words caught me off guard. The last thing I imagined hearing was that she was sad.
“Why are you sad? I thought it was what you wanted. For your father to separate from me so he could marry Blake, and she could be your mother.”
She stays silent. She lowers her gaze for a moment, but when she lifts it, I find myself reflected in her eyes, so similar to
mine.
“Can someone take back what they said?” Her voice trembles, and her eyes shine, on the verge of tears. “Can we go back
to how we were before?”
I pull her close, and as soon as she feels my embrace, she lets out a sob. My poor girl. It’s not that she doesn’t love me, she’s just confused. Her immense love for her father made her see things only from his perspective, without realizing
what it meant for others.
“No, we can’t,” I tell her honestly. “Your father now has Blake, and when we divorce, they will get married. They will form a family, and you will be their daughter too. And when more children come, you will be an older sister.”
She pulls away from me with an unhappy look. Apparently, what I said did not please her.
“I don’t want any more siblings,” she murmurs with a frown, that gesture so typical of her when she doesn’t like something. “Mommy… are you going to get married too?”
Her question took me by surprise. Until this moment, I hadn’t stopped thinking about it.
“I don’t have any plans right now,” I admit. “But if in the future I find someone who loves me and makes me happy, maybe
I’ll give it a chance.”
She stays silent, processing my words. I watched her calmly swing on the balcony, and I think that maybe, without this painful separation, I would never have had a conversation like this with her. Perhaps things had to happen this way so that, little by little, she would realize that her mother would always be there for her.
That night she slept in my bed. It had been years since she last did, I think, since she was a baby. Feeling her by my side, listening to her steady breathing, and smelling the sweet scent of her hair made me grateful to have her in my life.
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a word, I reply with a photo of our daughter sleeping. His response is brief but sufficient: “Rest well.”
Ryan
While I find myself in the solitude of my room, the temptation to send a message to Candace takes hold of me. I don’t know if she’s awake, but even so, my fingers hesitate over the screen. Maybe she’s already asleep. The image Michelle sends me seems to confirm it: Candace rests peacefully, oblivious to my uncertainty, immersed in the tranquility that seems unreachable to me.
Without both of them, the house feels cold and empty, a lifeless space I hadn’t noticed before. I don’t want to imagine what Michelle must have felt all those nights she was alone when we went on trips, waiting for our return. I wonder if she looked at her phone with the same anxiety I do now, repeatedly considering sending a message just to feel less alone.
And yet, every time we arrived, everything felt warm and welcoming, as if she could turn any corner into a home. Now I
realize it wasn’t the house that embraced us when we came in, but her.
In a matter of days, everything has changed drastically. I find myself disoriented, as if I’m stumbling around in the dark.
Paradoxically, now that everything is supposed to be easier, the feeling of emptiness weighs more than ever.
The silence in the house is unsettling. Before, there were always conversations floating in the air, scattered laughter, the echo of hurried footsteps in the hallways. Now, only the distant sounds of the city filter through the window and the faint buzz of the phone in my hand, still waiting for a message that might never come.
I lie down on the bed, feeling the weight of fatigue in my body, but unable to get to sleep. I wonder if Michelle felt this
many times, if the habit of being alone made her immune to sadness or if she simply learned to live with it.
I take a deep breath. Loneliness has a cruel way of sticking to you, reminding you of the decisions you’ve made and their
consequences. Now there is a new reality in front of me, and its presence is as relentless as the void it has left behind.
The phone rings, interrupting my thoughts. I pick it up without even looking at the screen.
“Hello?”
“Love, why don’t you come sleep at home?” her voice is soft, calm, as if she were giving me a simple solution to a complex
problem. “Without Candace, you don’t have to be alone. Or, if you prefer, I’ll come over there.”
The mere idea of having her under my roof again, occupying Michelle’s place, makes me uncomfortable, almost uneasy. I don’t want to face the shadow of what was or the guilt that clings to my insides.
“I’ll go over there,” I reply, without adding more. With her, words are unnecessary. She makes everything seem simple, and perhaps that’s why, forgetting the commitment of my marriage, I fell into her arms as easily as
I did in the past.
I sigh and pull out a change of clothes, packing it into a small suitcase. Maybe in Blake’s house, the loneliness won’t be so suffocating. Maybe, for a few hours, I can trick myself into believing I still have control.
***
Michelle
The next morning, I wake up before Candace. I watch her in silence, with her serene face and her hair tousled on the pillow. The soft morning light filters through the curtains, illuminating her skin with a warm glow. I stay like this for a moment, enjoying the peace her presence brings me. It’s a precious moment, one of those I want to cherish forever. I don’t want to wake her yet, but I know we’ll soon have to get up. With careful movements, I slide out of bed and head to
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True Love
the kitchen to prepare breakfast.
While I beat the eggs and heat the milk, I hear the soft shuffle of her bare feet against the floor. I turn and see her rubbing her eyes, her hair messy and her pajamas wrinkled. She drops into a chair with a long yawn.
“Good morning, my love,” I say to her with a tender smile.
“Good morning, mommy,” she responds with a sleepy voice, giving a small smile.
I serve her breakfast and we sit together at the table. Her gaze gets lost among the patterns on the tablecloth, and I notice her pensive expression. There’s something on her mind, something that’s troubling her.
“Mommy… do you think dad misses having breakfast with us?” she suddenly asks, without taking her eyes off her plate.
Her question catches me by surprise. I take a deep breath, searching for the right words. I don’t want to fill her with false hopes, but I also don’t want her to feel that her father has left her behind.
“Maybe, sweetheart. I imagine he does. But now he has a new life and must adapt to the changes.”
She plays with her spoon, tracing circles on her plate. She doesn’t push the subject, but I know she’s processing my words at her own pace. That’s how she is, thoughtful and sensitive. I don’t push her. Just being here for her is what
matters.
After breakfast, we clear the table together. I give her a kiss on the forehead and ask her to get ready for the day. Just as
I’m about to take the dishes to the sink, the doorbell rings.
I furrow my brow. It’s not even ten yet. I dry my hands and walk to the door. I peek through the peephole, and a smile spreads across my face.
“Sweetheart! Good morning.”
My parents are here, and I know they’re not just here to see me.
Candace comes out of her room, pausing halfway with a mix of surprise
and shyness. But my mother doesn’t wait, as soon as she sees her, she steps forward eagerly and takes her in her arms, covering her with kisses.
“Grandma! You’re tickling me, haha,” Candace laughs with contagious joy.
My father watches the scene with a serene smile, his eyes shining with emotion. He looks at me and nods knowingly.
“Looks like everything’s going to be alright,” he says quietly.
I just nodded in response, feeling a warm certainty in my chest. I know there were differences in the past, unspoken words, and silent wounds, but at this moment, none of that matters.
When love is true, pride takes a backseat. And that, more than anything else, is what truly unites us.
