When the morning comes

5 | a little taste of her

Shoving the letter back into the empty wine bottle, I laid it beside me on the bed, her place. Curling back into the warm covers, I stared at the empty pillow, a tired sigh escaping from my lips. I had tried going to bed earlier than normally, in order to catch up with the sleepless nights I'd had. Figured it was the right time to do it, since Benjamin was sleeping over at Daniels.

However, my mind hadn't allowed me to fall asleep early. It'd become even later than on regular nights. Sleeping in was no option- once I woke and my eyes had fallen onto the cold and empty place beside me, my eyes wouldn't close anymore.

Especially not if my gaze landed onto something right in front of me. The shelve that held our story. Bottles of wine emptied of the drink, but filled with letters.

It killed. Innerly. There were moments where I wanted to smash all of those bottles against the window, killing them, too. Those moments and rage of emotions came after reading the insides of them. But even though it hurt- I couldn't stop myself.

For it felt as if she was here, sitting beside me. Watching me with eyes full of hope, admiration. Lips parted in anticipation, wonder. Waiting for my reaction after reading our story for the first time. Cheeks rosy due to the warmth, just a robe wrapped around her body. Italian sun shining through the window of the hotel room. Sleep and sweat coating my body. Shower water and rosy shower gel coating hers.

Swallowing away the lump in my throat, I hadn't realised my hand was brushing over the pillow she used to lay on until the bell rang. Sitting up, I squinted my eyes as they met the bright lights of outside once I'd shoved away the curtain. I recognised Daniels Renault Captur.

With a frown creasing my forehead, I placed the bottle of wine back onto the shelve, and slipped on my sweatpants. Downstairs, I opened the door slightly, peeking through.

Daniels wife Amanda and Benji were stood in front of me. Benji looked down, Amanda concerned. I wondered if he had behaved badly at their house, which grew me nervous. "You're early."

"He wanted to go home, right little lad?" Amanda gave Benjamin a sad smile, her hand resting on top of his hair. Benjamin didn't answer, sleep was written on his face, still.

"Get inside." I mumbled out, touching his hair for a brief moment as he walked past me, dropping his sleepover- mess onto the floor. "Thank you for bringing him back." Wanting to close the door to avoid hearing what he had done, she stopped me before I could.

"We need to talk, Zev. Now." Amanda insisted, her face had a melancholic expression.

Wasn't it Poppy, then someone else would make sure to fulfill the role of playing a psychologist.

"What is it?" I asked, reluctantly.

Amanda waited for me to come outside, so with an innerly sigh I agreed. Keeping the door ajar, I sat down onto the small step in front of the door, looking up at her. "He wet the bed last night. Does that happen more often?"

Furrowing my eyebrows, I stared at her for a moment long before I answered. "No, it doesn't." I was being honest. He hadn't done that after a year of living diaper free. A fast learner, something he had always been. He'd never had trouble with it before.

"It hasn't happened before?" Amanda looked thoughtful. She was in her early forties, with wrinkles appearing on her forehead, her brown hair turning grey at the roots. "Nothing strange at night when he needs a wee?"

"No." She didn't have to know about him being afraid at times. He was my son. She wasn't his mother. And I was sure Benjamin wouldn't like it. His modesty had become quite a thing in the past few months.