Unraveled Unrest
As he undressed, and unraveled her
The story detoured in an impulsive whir
He accepted their fate, and there it was
The piece of the puzzle redefining the clause
Kingston
I held her close to my body, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breath. It had been an hour since she’d fallen asleep, her protests and doubts silenced as she’d surrendered to the night. But despite the silence around me, her voice still echoed through my soul, nagging me with all the questions I could see burning in her eyes. I’d wanted to give her those answers, but I had no clue how to tread this path life had led us to. I had no clue what I needed to do to regain what I’d lost, to resurrect a part of me and a part of her that had been taken from us by the cruel games fate had played.
I moved gently, trying to pull my hand from under her tired body, but the moment I tried, she cuddled in closer, holding onto me even tighter than before, as if her life depended on it. She wouldn’t let me go. It had been my third attempt, and finally I surrendered to her needs, fighting my own demons, struggling to accept all that she’d told me, especially her last confession.
She’d been pregnant. Fuck. She’d been carrying my child. I would’ve been a father.
My heart ached. It pained me to look back and realize I’d had no clue that my impulsive need to be with her without any protection had gotten her pregnant before her time and had put her through the misery of losing a child, even though she didn’t remember it happening.
I mourned for our loss, silently punishing myself by trying to picture how hard it would’ve been for her to go through all she’d been through. Could it be? Could the pregnancy have been the reason she’d run? Had she doubted my sincerity toward her? Had she feared I would reject her and the baby we’d unknowingly created out of our growing love for each other?
I prayed that wasn’t the case; it would break my heart to know she hadn’t come to me with this news. No, I had to believe there’d been another reason for her leaving.
A new fear seeped through my bones, taunting me, making me realize that the two times Vienna and I’d been intimate this time around, I hadn’t used protection. I’d been too driven by my revenge and anger the first time, and too clouded by my fleeting emotions to have bothered to ask her if she was protecting herself. I’d known she wasn’t taking the pill five years ago, but she’d had no reason to. She’d been a virgin. Our relationship had been unexpected and our passion out of our control. But now, I hoped she was on the pill. She’d told me she was engaged, which meant…
I stopped my train of thoughts from straying into treacherous waters.
She stirred in my arms, finally letting me go, searching for something to cover herself with. Slowly, careful not to wake her, I pulled the covers over her body, fighting the urge to run my hands over her exposed legs under my t-shirt and feel the softness of her skin. I needed reassurance that she was here but wasn’t willing to compromise her sleep. Already it was four in the morning and she’d had a rough day. Hell, I’d had a rough day, but sleep was impossible. I had a few things I needed to make up my mind on. I had a huge decision to make, not just for me, but for both of us.
Taking advantage of my recently earned freedom from her grasp, I sneaked out of the bed, carefully unlocking the door and walking to my adjoining office. I turned on my computer and googled ‘selective amnesia.’ Article after article flooded my screen, giving mixed information about this particular kind of head injury.
Many articles stated that memories didn’t come back the same for all patients. Some gradually worked to remember snippets of their past through therapy and exercise, while some never got them back. There were also some cases where the patient’s memory was triggered by a random incident, reminding them of snippets of their past, similar to Vienna’s situation.
I bookmarked a few of the pages and continued to research, using this chance to wrap my head around this situation. I looked up doctors that specialized in such case, finding a few that would be a good choice to help Vienna with figuring things out. Money was no object. An hour later, I switched off the computer and walked back to the bedroom, quietly settling into my side of the bed.
Spade and Sasha had changed sides, sleeping by Vienna’s bedside, keeping her company as she slept peacefully, facing me.
Carefully, I pulled the covers over myself, getting comfortable, resisting the urge to touch her and make sure she was real, that this moment was more than just my lonely imagination.
As though sensing my need, she wedged her way closer to me, effortlessly molding her body to mine.
Her face rested on my chest as she wrapped her arms around my waist, closing the last remaining distance between our bodies.
She pushed her leg between mine, getting even closer, and I couldn’t help but savor the caress of her smooth legs against mine.
Her soft breath fanned my naked chest, making my heart swell with love. I was aroused and appeased by her closeness. I’d missed holding her in my arms, and I never wanted to let go.
But I couldn’t have her.
Not yet.
Not like this.
I’d sensed her turmoil tonight. I’d felt her fight her instincts when she’d chosen to give in to our past, when she’d picked this moment between us, despite her need to figure things out first. Vienna had never been the girl who made such important decisions in haste. She’d been spontaneous with life, but she wasn’t impulsive, and tonight, her giving into me had been an impulsive decision. And I regretted my choices.
I should’ve stopped her. I should’ve told her to wait. I should’ve given us time. But I’d been too broken and stripped bare to think straight. In the moment after her confession, all I’d wanted was to drown myself in something, to forget the pain living in my body. I’d needed a release, an escape—I’d needed her. And so, against my better judgment, I’d taken the last step and coaxed Vienna into believing a possibility that wasn’t feasible.
I’d pushed her to surrender; I’d made her believe that reliving our past would take it all away. But that wasn’t the truth; a lot had happened between then and now. A lot had changed. Despite our efforts, we were no longer the same people who’d fallen for each other in the rainy summer months of the English countryside. We were no longer that naïve; we were jaded by our experiences and we needed to find our way back to who we truly were before we could even start something again.
She had to work on her memories. She had to try to remember her reasons for leaving, which wouldn’t matter now, but still needed to be addressed if we ever hoped to find acceptance and closure. I had my own personal battles to fight. I needed to be able to let go of the familiar resentment I’d carried for so long before I could even think of having something more with Vienna. I knew now what we were dealing with, what obstacles were waiting on this path.
It made things clear in my head, and as I lay there, holding her in my arms, feeling her breath on my skin, lost in my dilemma, my conflict finally started to dissipate.
I finally started seeing things clearly, and even though the realization hurt, and my heart revolted at the forming decision, I knew what I had to do.
To be continued…