Chapter 25 page 2 - Lamentation

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We left the neighbourhood where I grew up with a heavy feeling as though a vacated shell in my heart is replaced with black hole. I feel secretions filling my tear duct and a lump forming in my throat that my breath tries to catch up. Later, my sobbing turns to weeping before I finally bawl out my emotions inside the vehicle. Saint tries as much as to not let his smouldering heart take over the vehicle, yet he can't help but to feel sorry for my loss.

We arrived at our apartment in Palmira Loft with much exhaustion. Saint saunters towards the kitchen, thinking of having fusilli with salmon and peas for lunch while I lumber into the master bedroom, submerge myself into the thick bedding and lamenting.

Saint ditches his meal prepping and later joins in under the sheet with me. He snuggles behind me and hushes me from crying. He doesn't utter a word as there is no need to. There is no point of telling me that it's going to be okay when it isn't. Nonetheless, his cuddling alleviates my pain instead of preventing it.

"How are you feeling now?" he asks me softly when the crying subsides.

"Numb," I croak, feeling inconsolable.

"You must eat, you haven't eaten all day," he encourages.

"I don't feel like eating anything," I wheeze.

"But I'm making your favourite pasta," Saint coaxes. "Who's going to eat all that pasta if you don't?"

"What's the point of thriving when I lost the biggest part of my life?" I whine, feeling a new batch of tears welling down my cheeks.

Saint doesn't reply immediately, he lets me cry my heart out before correcting me, "You just lost a dad, not your entire family, Sayang. You still have me, your mom and mommy to love you, regardless. And soon, our offspring will love you too. If your dad doesn't see how worthy you are, then he's not worthy to be your father."

Somehow, Saint's explanation had got Adia's 95/5 percentage theory echoes in my head for a while. Giving myself the benefit of doubt from this misfortune, I foster to lift my spirit up from this wreckage.

"You're right. I guess not all thunderstorms have rain," I muster.

"Attagirl!" he cheers, kissing on the top of my head under his chin.

Recalling the earlier conversation with my parents, I turn to him, furrowing my eyebrows. "You met Dad before for my hand in marriage?"

"It's not right to keep you this way too long," he explains. "But your dad was an unaccommodating guy. He claimed we're too premature for a marital relationship."

I can tell Saint isn't being truthful and that wasn't what transpired in Dad's mind. He just doesn't want to be involved with my affairs anymore. I'm a rue to him.

"Nevertheless, I'll always keep my door unlatched for you," he continues. "As long as I live, I'll do my best to fulfil your every need which your dad failed to provide."

I smile at this pledge as he slowly bents forward to kiss me. My mouth open, accepting his calm yet sensuous tongue travels in and lock into mine. The endorphins effect coming from his kiss and his words soothes my heartache, little by little.

Saint promises me that I'm in good hands, his hands. His assurance is not something to return the favour of what I've done for him when he was a kid and had no one to turn to, it's something that he wants to do out of love.

I gather enough energy to leave this cosy bed when I hear a couple of notification pings chiming from my phone. I stretch my upper body away from Saint's arms to reach for my phone on the side table and see notifications flying in on the top panel of my phone screen.

I swipe the screen upwards to unlock the phone and am disgusted to see Maheera's malicious WhatsApp text flashes before me, 'Congrats for getting knocked up and being shunned by Dad. You deserve it.'

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