Forty Five

31.9K 1.9K 770
                                    

With all of her belongings dumped out onto her bed, Rika couldn't help but marvel at the difference between her arrival luggage and her departure luggage. She had accumulated so many things that she always dreamt she would be able to have.

She had never collected enough of anything to class as her own. The fact that she had more than a bag of things to pack away made her head hurt for some reason.

The last eight months had been so hectic that didn't have a chance to sit back and evaluate her new life. It was full of opportunities, blessings and pure luck.

She was packing everything.

And she had made a plan of action; move into her own place, graduate, and find a job working in special education teaching. She wanted to work in areas where poverty was evident, helping those in need despite their extreme living conditions.

After her conversation with him, she had gotten the message loud and clear. He wasn't going to change and most importantly, he didn't want to change.

Not for her, or anyone for that matter.

Of course, the hardest part of it all was telling the kids. She knew if she wanted to, she could write it down on a piece of paper and leave it on the table.

But that would be the cowardly way out, and she owed them a genuine goodbye.

It was better than her leaving them with no explanation, she couldn't do that to them.

Today was the day, she decided. She couldn't continue staying under his roof when her heart was breaking every time she looked at any of them.

She needed to tell them the truth, she had to. It was what they deserved after going through so much.

She could do this, right?

• • •

His poor ears were still ringing from the chorus of screams and shouts.

"You wanna go watch cartoons with your sister?" He said tiredly to his eight-year-old, knowing he would most likely get no reply.

They had barely made it inside the house, one child running away into the living room whilst the other stayed glued to him.

Janessa, who was too nervous to be verbal, resorted to staying mute as her head stayed pressed against his clothed thigh. He had a secure hand-wound in hers, letting her squeeze whenever it got too terrifying.

Still, with her hand in his, he crouched down so that she was eye level and heard her shallow breathing hitch. "I need to hear real words from you, tiny." Tiny, she almost huffed at the silly nickname.

Her mother had called her that whenever she felt afraid, it never failed to make her screw her nose up and tell her off.

Waiting to hear the protest on her lips, he grunted as she simply moved her face into his chest. "You made me proud tonight, Jan. You know that, yeah?"

Again, nothing.

"I looked on that stage and searched for my pretty girls and when I saw how beautiful you looked in your little dresses, I swear I stopped breathing." He confided in a way that he letting her in on a secret, his spare hand thumped his chest.

She didn't blush like she usually would have at his exaggerating.

There was no way his heart had seriously stopped when he was standing in front of her, she thought.

Diamonds Dancing Where stories live. Discover now