As the Soul was Leaving

Sweet Lies (21)

Taylor's POV

The bruises were barely visible now, fading into pale reminders of what had happened. But Joe's apologies, his unexpected gentleness in the days that followed, felt like a balm on the wounds that lingered beneath the surface. He was being sweet, so attentive, and that part of me that still longed for him—the man I once knew—ached to believe this was real.

When I woke up that morning, the sun was casting warm light across our bedroom, and Joe was beside me, his arm draped around me, his breathing soft. He looked so peaceful. I lay there for a moment, watching him, and a sense of quiet settled over me. Maybe he really was trying to change. Maybe we could have a life together, something real and lasting, without the pain, the tension, the control. I wanted that so badly. I needed it to be true.

As if sensing my gaze, he stirred and opened his eyes, a sleepy smile crossing his face as he reached for my hand. "Morning, beautiful," he murmured, his voice gentle and warm. He traced circles on my wrist, his touch soothing, grounding.

"Good morning," I whispered back, my heart fluttering in my chest. For a moment, I let myself believe that things could be different.

He pulled me close, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I thought I'd make us breakfast," he said, a rare softness in his voice. "And then maybe... maybe we could do something together. Something you'd like."

I smiled, my heart swelling with a hesitant hope. "That sounds wonderful."

We spent the morning together in a blissful routine that almost felt normal. He hummed to himself as he moved around the kitchen, making pancakes and pouring coffee, his every gesture wrapped in a care I hadn't felt from him in so long. It felt like a version of us that I hadn't seen in ages, and I soaked up every moment, every touch, desperately holding onto the hope that maybe, somehow, this was real.

He served the pancakes with a flourish, grinning as he slid the plate in front of me. "See? I can be domestic when I want to be," he joked, his tone light. I laughed, feeling the tension in my chest ease, the dark thoughts retreating as I let myself relax into the moment.

"I'm impressed," I replied, taking a bite. "It's really good."

His smile softened, and he reached across the table, his fingers entwining with mine. "Taylor... I know I haven't been the best lately. I know things haven't been easy." His voice grew quieter, more vulnerable, and I could see a flicker of regret in his eyes. "But I love you. You know that, right?"

Those three words hit me with a force that almost took my breath away. 'I love you.' They were simple, so ordinary, but coming from him, in this moment, they felt like a lifeline. I held onto his gaze, my heart pounding, and nodded slowly, feeling the ache of longing and hope collide.

"I love you, too, Joe." The words felt so true in that moment that I almost forgot everything else. All the pain, the doubts, the things I tried so hard to ignore—they all faded, replaced by a warmth that spread through me. I needed this to be true, needed to believe that his love could somehow make things right.

A smile broke across his face, genuine and soft, and he pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly as if he'd never let go. "I promise, I'll do better," he murmured into my hair, his voice filled with sincerity. "I just want you to be happy. I want us to be happy."

I clung to him, my heart swelling with a fierce, desperate hope. Maybe he really meant it. Maybe he really did love me enough to change. I wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that this could be the start of something new. For the first time in weeks, I let myself sink into the warmth of his embrace, daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other.

~~~~~~~

The rest of the day passed in a blissful haze. Joe took me out to the little bookstore I loved, holding my hand as we wandered through the aisles, laughing over our favorite authors, picking out books for each other. He was so thoughtful, so attentive, and I found myself falling in love with him all over again, convinced that this was the real Joe, the man I'd fallen for. He didn't even comment about the incessant paparazzi that followed us everywhere.

That evening, he took me to dinner, a quiet, candlelit spot where he kept his gaze on me the entire time, his hand resting over mine, his thumb brushing against my knuckles. "I'm so lucky to have you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "I don't ever want to lose you."

"I don't want to lose you either," I whispered back, my heart swelling. At that moment, I believed him completely. I believed that he loved me, that he truly wanted to be better. And I let myself hope.

~~~~~~~

When we got home that night, he held me close, whispering sweet words into my ear, his hands gentle, his touch filled with a tenderness that made my heart ache. He pulled me into his arms, pressing kisses along my shoulder, murmuring promises that I clung to with all my heart.

"I love you, Taylor," he whispered, and those words were like a balm to all the broken parts of me. I let myself believe, let myself fall into him, desperate to hold onto this feeling, to make it last. As he held me, I closed my eyes, willing myself to believe that this could be real.

Maybe this was the turning point. Maybe we could finally be happy. And as I drifted off to sleep in his arms, I felt a fragile sense of peace settle over me, like a dream I wasn't ready to let go of.