Battle of his life...

She sat on the edge of the bed, staring straight through him. She was as substantial as the ocean breeze and just as predictable. He didn’t know how to reach her. He spoke for hours, she didn’t say a word in response. Her eyes were blank, her mind clearly elsewhere. Anywhere but here with him. She was three feet away but he could feel her slipping further and further from him. He was at a loss.

When he sank to his knees, her eyes focused on him for a split second before she refocused on the view. That was enough encouragement for him. He buried his face in her lap and wasn’t surprised when she stiffened in rejection. Before she could edge away, he wrapped his arms around her waist and willed her to stay put.

If she fought him, he’d let her go. He didn’t want to push her too hard, but he needed her to see him, feel him. Needed her to acknowledge his presence, even if she hated him.

The familiar scent of her, now sweetened by gardenia tormented him. He gripped her ankle before he ran his palm up her calf to the back of her knee and paused before stroking down again. His beard caught on her silk slip as he rested his cheek against her thigh. Slowly, his tension eased. He closed his eyes, relieved she was allowing him to touch her. He didn't realize how starved he was.

Minutes ticked by without either of them saying a word. He waited for her to soften, but her body remained still and lifeless. He stayed where he was, drawing patterns on her skin, writing messages, hoping she'd hear him through a different medium. He ached to feel her fingers sliding through his hair, her lips marking his skin, but she gave him nothing. No hope. No sign that she'd forgive him.

His arm flexed around her, pulling her a scant inch closer, so she was engulfed by him. He'd waged war all his life. This was a battle he couldn't lose.

**This is a raw draft of Mia’s work. Please do not share or distribute.

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