he listens, just as he's listened these past few months. and she's watching him as she speaks, and she's thinking, i wish i knew what you were feeling. she could ask, because he'd tell her, but part of her is sad she can't read him like she used to. although, could she ever? 

after all, the leaving had been sudden, whiplash against promises made only days before. 

he extends a hand and at first she hesitates, but his words wash away her reluctance. her eyes soften and she rests her hand over his. it's warm. and her hand looks small in his. 

"you're already talking like a dad," she says. i'm probably gonna mess up sometimes. that glowing smile wanes just a bit, but not because of him. her fingers reflexively tighten and she bites her lip, nose scrunching because suddenly her eyes are watery and the last thing she wants to do is cry in front of him. 

"i wasn't perfect, bo. my parents helped, but i still made mistakes." i was never ready to be a mom. she withdraws her hand to stubbornly wipe at her eyes.

he's so angry, bo. all the time. but she can't will the words out. she can't own up to her own failure. and she can't make him feel worse for not being there, not when he's here and he's trying and he's making more promises that she desperately hopes he won't break. 

instead, she says, "i'm happy you're back in our lives."

boruta maher

☉