Page 13 of Captive Bride
I wanted to scream, to shake some sense into her, but the words lodged in my throat. Instead, I watched as she turned away from me, her gaze drifting toward the window. Outside, the suburban calm of Delaware was settling into the pink and orange hues of dusk, a peaceful facade that seemed almost alien after the life we'd left behind.
There, standing at the window, Adriana's loneliness played out in silent motions—her fingertip tracing an invisible line down the cool glass, hands wringing together like she was trying to squeeze out the solitude that clung to her. She absentmindedly fiddled with the small pendant that hung around her neck, a nervous habit I'd come to recognize whenever the weight of isolation bore down on her.
"Look, I get it. The quiet here is deafening compared to what we're used to," I conceded, my voice softer now. "But letting our guard down for the sake of companionship... it's risky, Ade."
She turned back to me, her eyes carrying the weariness of a battle fought too many times. "I'm tired of looking over my shoulder. Tired of suspecting every shadow." Her voice wavered just a bit, revealing the fissure in her steely resolve. “Aren’t we here to get away from all of that?”
"Trust takes time," I reminded her gently, knowing full well that our past lives didn't afford us such luxuries. "We've got to play it smart, that's all I'm saying."
“You can play it smart. I’m tired of playing,” she said. “I know this is going to make me sound like a little kid, but I want my mom.”
And then she turned around and walked away from me.
I watched in a mix of anger and desperation as Adriana's back disappeared behind the bedroom door, the sound of its closing echoing through the house like the final word in an argument neither of us truly wanted to have.
"Ade," I sighed, my voice now a low plea drowned out by the silence of our home. I maneuvered my wheelchair closer, knuckles whitening around the push rims. Could I blame her for wanting something more than this life in the shadows?
I waited for a few minutes, hoping she would calm down some so we could actually sort this out.
Pushing aside the frustration, I knocked gently on the door—a simple action that felt like lifting boulders with my bare hands.
The door creaked open, revealing her silhouette framed by the darkness that had settled in the room. She stood there wordless, her figure stiff, a clear challenge in the set of her shoulders even as the night wrapped around us both.
"Can we talk?" My voice was barely louder than the whisper of the winter wind outside, betraying the turmoil inside me.
But she stepped aside, a silent invitation into the room where moonlight spilled across the bed, casting it in a pale glow that seemed too serene for the torrent of emotions between us.
I rolled into the room, taking my place at the edge of the bed. The weight of regret was a tangible thing, pressing down on me as I sat heavily, shoulders slumping forward. I rubbed my hands over my face, the stubble scratching against my palms. It wasn't just the physical limitations that confined me; it was the fear—the all-consuming fear of history repeating itself, of becoming like him, like my father.
“What?” she asked.
"Ade, I’m not trying to be an asshole. As always, I’m trying to protect you. All three of you," I echoed, my own voice rough with unshed emotion.
There, in the quiet Delaware night, the distance between us was more than just the space in that room—it was the chasm of our pasts, our secrets, the lives we led before finding each other in this unlikely refuge. And as the stars blinked above, witness to our strife, I knew we'd find our way back to each other. We always did.
We had to.
Adriana sat down noisily on the bed.
Her form was a slump of defeat on the bed, her every line speaking of the storms that raged within. Her gaze found mine, eyes clouded with frustration yet edged with something more tender, something that tugged at the knot in my chest.
“Ade?”
“Hm?”
“For what it’s worth, I want my mum too.”
Chapter Six: Tristan
Adriana inched closer to me. She was having a hard time moving now, so I could tell this was difficult for her. “I’m sorry.”
Her words pulled a sigh from me, more from the weight of our new reality than any irritation. "I know, Ade," I replied, feeling the press of her body against mine as an anchor in a world that had tilted on its axis. "And I'm sorry too. It's just... here, I can't be the guard dog I'm bred to be. I can't walk through this suburb like I own it, and without knowing the lay of the land..." I trailed off, the frustration evident in my voice.
The chill of the early night seeped through the bedroom window of our Delaware house, but the warmth between us pushed it away. Lying beside Adriana, I felt the steady rise and fall of her chest against my side. My attempts at being a fortress for her seemed to crumble; no amount of muscle and might could shield her from the emotional cold that gripped her now.
"Adriana," I whispered, inching closer. The distance of mere inches felt like miles in the silence of our room. Each deliberate shift of my body was an attempt to shorten the chasm, to meld her worries with the heat of my skin. My hand found hers over the covers, my fingers entwining with hers.
"Hey, I know you miss Carmen," I said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "I see it, you know—the way your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes anymore." My thumb caressed the back of her hand, a small comfort I could offer amidst the storm of her emotions.