Status: es ist fertig.
La Promesse Est Une Promesse
.o1
Afterwards, she looks at him, eyes full of sleepy thoughts and nightmare worries. “Tell me something,” she says. “Anything, baby,” he says, wrapping his arms around her warm shape more tightly. “Tell me you love me,” she whispers. “You know I do, baby,” he says, reluctant, knowing the bad news he has to share in the morning. “I know, but I want you to say it. Just once.” She looks up at him with her sleepy brown eyes, afraid of his reluctance. “Baby,” he says, “I love you.” She closes her eyes, satisfied, and goes to sleep. He remains awake, thinking until the morning, which comes fast and bright.
He climbs from the bed before her, being careful not to wake her; she looks so peaceful sleeping. He tries not to think about how much he’s going to hurt her. He wonders how she’s going to take the news.
She walks down the stairs an hour later, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and stretching. “Hey, honey,” she says through a yawn, “what’re you cooking?”
He looks up at her and realizes how beautiful she looks in this light, with the sunlight from outside picking up the gold in her hair. She looks angelic, and it makes what he’s dreading that much harder.
“Baby,” he says, “we need to talk.” He sees her stiffen as he speaks, he knows she’s been hurt already, he knows her messy past, and he feels worse.
“Wha-what is it?” she asks meekly.
“I’ve been promoted at work. They want me to move to the city, manage a new firm.” He says. He looks at his bare feet on the white linoleum and continues, “It’s an amazing opportunity, and I’ve taken the offer.”
She sits down, speechless. They stay with her sitting and him standing across from her, neither making eye contact.
“Promise me something.” She says.
He looks up, “Anything.”
“If–when you move, promise to visit me?” she says looking up at him hopefully, scanning his eyes for signs of a lie.
“I promise I'll visit you every week.” He says earnestly.
He climbs from the bed before her, being careful not to wake her; she looks so peaceful sleeping. He tries not to think about how much he’s going to hurt her. He wonders how she’s going to take the news.
She walks down the stairs an hour later, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and stretching. “Hey, honey,” she says through a yawn, “what’re you cooking?”
He looks up at her and realizes how beautiful she looks in this light, with the sunlight from outside picking up the gold in her hair. She looks angelic, and it makes what he’s dreading that much harder.
“Baby,” he says, “we need to talk.” He sees her stiffen as he speaks, he knows she’s been hurt already, he knows her messy past, and he feels worse.
“Wha-what is it?” she asks meekly.
“I’ve been promoted at work. They want me to move to the city, manage a new firm.” He says. He looks at his bare feet on the white linoleum and continues, “It’s an amazing opportunity, and I’ve taken the offer.”
She sits down, speechless. They stay with her sitting and him standing across from her, neither making eye contact.
“Promise me something.” She says.
He looks up, “Anything.”
“If–when you move, promise to visit me?” she says looking up at him hopefully, scanning his eyes for signs of a lie.
“I promise I'll visit you every week.” He says earnestly.