A TWIST OF FATE || Rewriting

Ch. 62 || Workplace

Damien 🥀

The cold-water washes down my skin, making my muscles relax. It's still midnight and my wife fell asleep in our bed a few minutes ago. I immediately walked in the shower, trying to take care of my erection. I wanted to stroke it but it felt wrong to jerk off to her thoughts when she is not okay, when she is suffering.

When she will let me have her, I will make up for the lost days.

Turning the shower off, I step outside of the glass cubicle and wrapped a white towel around my waist as I walked towards the walk-in closet that is directly connected to the bathroom with a single door in between. Another door inside the closet leads to the bedroom outside.

When I dried myself and pulled on a black t-shirt and a grey trouser, I heard a noise like glass splattering on the ground with a thud. My heart rate immediately picked up as I rushed into the bedroom to check on my wife.

She is sitting on the bed with her breathing unsteady and face paled. The water glass that was on the side table is now shattered into pieces on the floor.

I rushed towards her. Sitting on the bed next to her, I immediately took her into my arms and gently stroked her head despite my heart beating at a dangerous speed. Slowly, her muscles relaxed and her breathing evened.

"I-I had a bad dream." She whispered against my chest.

I pulled her away ever so lazily and lifted her chin to look at me. "Look at me. I am here, I will keep you safe. Do you trust me, baby?"

With her misty-eyes, she nodded yes. I kiss her forehead before laying her down along with myself. I pulled the comforter on us as her arms wrapped around my chest and I protectively held her in my embrace. I gently stroke her hair till she falls asleep again.

A couple years back, had I seen the future, that version of me wouldn't believe I would be so helpless and desperate for a woman. But I will cross the limit of desperation if it means having her every night like this in my arms. For her, I will gladly wreck my pride and self-respect. I am beyond desperation; I am in love.

Love is not all about beautiful, flawless and colourful life. It's not love if your soul isn't aching. It's not love if you aren't desperate. It's not love if you are not ready to die for it.

Love is a sickness only scarred people will deeply understand.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

"What's going on between you and Anaya?" I come straight to the point, fisting my palms on Cade's desk.

Cade just casually glanced at me before wrapping the bandage around his bruised knuckles. The blood on his skin mixed with the sweat. That's not his blood. He just returned home after getting a sex ring down after the meetings at Vitalis. It's early in the morning.

"I don't get what you are trying to imply here." He knows very well what I'm trying to say. He is just avoiding.

Cade casually walked to the bathroom of his office room at the corner. The panelled walls are painted in dark blue. I walked leisurely behind him and stood at the threshold of the door and watched him wipe off the blood at the marble counter.

"You are getting your ass worked up too much about this." He says without looking at me.

"Well, yeah I am. Because whatever that you are doing can affect The Hunters." I say without losing my calm composure, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Really? How?" His not-so-concerned tone grates on me.

"Do you love her?" I asked.

"No."