Page 39 of Wildest Forever

But the boxes are all gone, the bed is remade in new bedding, a lamp sits in the corner on his bedside unit and a new rug covers a small amount of the hardwood floor. A candle is flickering away on the low window ledge, a cosy aroma filling the room and I cannot believe how much he has done to this room in such a short amount of time. I cast my eyes to the corner where the black mold presented itself and I see that it has faded slightly, and I feel instantly bad that I put him in this room in the first place. I would have been better putting him in my room and me taking the sofa for a few nights until it was sorted.

But, I was a bitch and let him move into it anyway.

I knew he was coming. I could have sorted it but I was being a brat, throwing my toys out the stroller in a sulk.

Guilt twists in my stomach and my thumb and finger finds my delicate wedding band as I twist it around my finger.

Stepping back, I pull the door two and turn on my heel as I make my way downstairs. I have no idea if he has washed the dishes, but if I was him, I wouldn't have out of spite.Because that's what I am like.

I am petty.

Walking down the stairs quietly, the kitchen is dimmed and I know he is in there.

Stepping off the bottom stair, I walk into the small kitchen to see him standing at the sink, in a tee and pyjama pants, washing the dishes.

Leaning against the doorframe, hands linked in front of me as I watch him silently for just a moment.

“I would have done them,” I eventually say quietly, and he looks over his shoulder at me, his messy blond hair tufty and unkept.

“It's fine, you cooked, I clean...” he trails his eyes forward and off me. “That's the rules inmyhouse,” and I don't miss the sharpness to his words.

Stepping closer into the kitchen, I drag one of the wooden chairs out and sit myself down, crossing one leg over the other as I sit and watch him.

“Thank you for fixing the step,” I mumble, just trying to make any form of conversation.

“Not a problem, it needed fixing so I fixed it,” and I know he is acting this way because of me. Sighing, I tilt my head to the side.

“Well, thank you anyway,” I try again, my voice a little lighter.

I watch as the back of his head bobs and I know I have properly fucked up.

“Can you dry?” he throws the dish towel over his shoulder, and I push up to my feet as I make my way to meet him.

Turning my head to the left as I look up at him all wide eyed and feeling guilty as hell, I take the towel from his shoulder and begin to dry up the dishes he has washed.

We don't talk.

Just stand in silence.

Once we're done, I move towards the stairs and I hear the sound of him tapping the kitchen light off and he is behind me, following me up the stairs.

Reaching the top, I go right, he goes left.

We both stand, eyes locked with each other, and I wait for him to speak.

But he says nothing.

Just turns his head away from me and walks into his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him and once I know he is behind it, I go into my own room and disappear.

Eyes pinned to the ceiling, I have no idea how long I am laying there before my eyes finally flutter shut and I am plunged into a deep sleep.

My alarm screams and it takes me a moment to realize it's coming from my alarm clock. Slamming my hand down on the button, I cover my head with my duvet and groan.

I was not ready to face the day.

Rolling over, I sigh as I see the sun peeking through the curtains.

And then it dawns on me, it's Sunday and I have no idea why my alarm is even set.

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