Forgivness

I walked through the door, just in time for the rain to start falling. Leaving my bag in the hallway, I went to dry my hair and change into comfortable trousers. You were not home yet, and I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or sad. I remembered the last words you’d told me, and the anger in your eyes as you slammed the door and left. It had taken everything for me to not run after you. You never liked me doing that, it only made you angrier.

I put on a kettle of tea, hoping it would be taken as a sign of peace. Now, I only waited for you.

I had almost fallen asleep on the sofa when you finally turned the handle. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and sat up. Our eyes met, almost instinctively, and I could see the sadness reflected in them. The anger, which was the last image I had of you, was gone. I reached out a hand.

“I’m sorry”, I whispered. You took my hand and sat down on the sofa next to me.

“Me too”. You leaned your head against my shoulder and lightly squeezed my hand.

“I want to be with you. I love you.”

“Me too…”

My hand was still clasped in yours as I fell asleep.