My Angel | lrh ✔️

•25 Years Old•

When Jenny was twenty-five, we had our very first big fight.

Doors were slammed shut. Things were thrown, possessions were smashed, and the struggles of living in a one-pay-check household was slowly dawning on the both of us.

I remember her crying as she leant against the kitchen sink, her head banging repeatedly on the white marble. She had a drink in her hand, a bottle of something sickeningly sweet as she took a swig of it from time to time.

She was stressed. So was I.

She was stressed because she didn't know how to make it on her own. She was stressed because she didn't know any better, for I always told her what to do.

But not this time.

She was getting wiser with age, and the world around us kept shifting as the years went by. I soon became as clueless as she, and that left our relationship in turmoil.

So I left the apartment. I left it, wanting nothing more than to just clear my mind for he night as I stood in the middle of the busy streets of Sydney, watching as the city lights blinked and the people rushed past and through me.

I did end up going home that night, however. She was passed out on the couch, her cheeks wet with tears as I pulled her onto my lap and whispered my apology.

Little did I know, she would never accept it.

I stayed with her after that fight. And I found myself slowly dreading the future, as it loomed over the both of us like a dark cloud of malicious oppurtunities.