A child laughs.
She gazes at where the sound of his laughter is floating from. And she smiles. And the child laughs some more. Her gaze falls on them.
He's laughing along with the child's laughter. Teasing him even further; wrestling gently, tickling and driving his joy to even higher heights. She is trying to disentangle their messy web of limbs and failing, a look of happiness and serenity glowing on her face. Even though it's dark. She surrenders and laughs along, her womanly pride of being both the wife and the mother of the couple next to her unerringly evident.
She turns her gaze back to the emptiness in front of her. And she waits for him to return with her coffee. He's been gone for five minutes but she already misses him. She misses their unfinished story. She misses the husband he will be. She misses the father he will become.
And that's the exact moment she feels it again. The invisible prick of the needle, carelessly drawing blood from her heart, leaking into her soul. She brushes off the familiar feeling. She knows this needle. It's only one of many, sucking her dry; slowly but surely.
And the smile that illuminates her face when she sees him returning toward her can be mistaken for anything. But pain.
She gazes at where the sound of his laughter is floating from. And she smiles. And the child laughs some more. Her gaze falls on them.
He's laughing along with the child's laughter. Teasing him even further; wrestling gently, tickling and driving his joy to even higher heights. She is trying to disentangle their messy web of limbs and failing, a look of happiness and serenity glowing on her face. Even though it's dark. She surrenders and laughs along, her womanly pride of being both the wife and the mother of the couple next to her unerringly evident.
She turns her gaze back to the emptiness in front of her. And she waits for him to return with her coffee. He's been gone for five minutes but she already misses him. She misses their unfinished story. She misses the husband he will be. She misses the father he will become.
And that's the exact moment she feels it again. The invisible prick of the needle, carelessly drawing blood from her heart, leaking into her soul. She brushes off the familiar feeling. She knows this needle. It's only one of many, sucking her dry; slowly but surely.
And the smile that illuminates her face when she sees him returning toward her can be mistaken for anything. But pain.
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