𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 | 𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊 [Collins]

Chapter 24 - She remembers

(revised)

With time, my sorrow had faded away, leaving me numb, but a bit stronger. There was no denying it anymore, my body clearly showed that it was no longer just about my own person. I was carrying life and thus, Andrew was still there with me. He was there one way or another, as he had promised at our wedding. This pregnancy had proved to be a blessing and a curse at once. A blessing for it had given me a reason to fight and carry on, and a curse for I didn't know how to deal with such responsibility. I would do it nonetheless, for Andrew. It was the least I could do to commemorate his beautiful soul, he, who had been so excited at the mere thought of becoming a father one day. I would carry his legacy, I would make sure his name was not forgotten and I would bring this baby, this part of him, to the world.

A weak smile formed on my lips as I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. I flattened the fabric of my dress around the round bump formed by my ever-growing belly. I could remember the first time I had felt the baby kicking, and how the joyful feeling triggered by such miracle had quickly been spoiled when realising the person I wanted to share that moment with was not by my side. I hated the fact that Andrew would never know his child and that he had left this world ignoring that his wish of a family had been granted. If only I had known earlier, if only he could have had this comforting thought with him, to know that a piece of him would survive... As I raised my eyes to meet my reflection, every trace of a smile had disappeared from my face, but I refused to cry. I needed to be strong, but it proved to be a struggle when every single object in that home reminded me of my loss.

I had kept everything as it was before Andrew's death, incapable of getting rid of something I knew was linked to him one way or another, for it felt like erasing his memory from our place. And so, his favourite jacket was still hung beside the mirror in the entrance, and the pack of cigarettes he had forgotten was still waiting for him on the table. No, I could not get rid of these objects, even if it meant I had to suffer every time I saw them. Nothing was heavier than the weight of my lover's dead body, like a ghost weighing on my shoulders, keeping my head underwater. I could not let him go, I did not want to, because I wanted him back.

I left the place to seek refuge in the living room, but there again, I could feel his presence. Suddenly, he was everywhere. His tall frame was in front of me, leaning against the mantelpiece, casually smoking his cigarette as he looked at me with a sparkle in his eyes. I could almost smell his perfume for he seemed so real. I turned around and there he was again, slouched in the sofa, one of his legs propped on the armrest, holding a book over his head as he read aloud one of his favourite quotes to share it with me. I could see him turn his face towards me and give me a radiant smile that would make my heart melt. Then, my feet led me to the corridor and I could hear him call my name from the bathroom and ask me to bring him a towel for he had forgotten to take one. I had refused to do it that day, for I had been in the mood to tease him, and I had left him completely wet and falsely outraged, drops of water dripping down his body. The memories were intact, and I could see him run after me to catch me at the entrance of our bedroom and imprison me in his damp embrace to take his revenge. I could hear his joyful laugh mingling with my squeals of happiness, a beautiful song that I did not want to ever forget. We were merry and carefree, feeling like nothing could ever come between us, ignoring the cruel fate that would befall us. And when I opened the door to our bedroom, he was still there, soundly asleep in our bed. I could admire him, lying on his stomach, as I had done several months before. The bed sheet covering his legs up to his waist was just enough to let me observe his body rise and fall with every peaceful breath, and enjoy the defined muscles of his back and his broad shoulders. He looked so innocent when sleeping, I had cherished that vision more than anything. What had warmed my heart even more was the fact that he had extended his arm across the empty space at his right, my place in the bed, as if looking for my presence. He would always hold me close against him at night, nuzzling my neck to inhale my perfume, and it was the only way he would fall asleep.