Page 7
Story: When Love Wasn’t Enough
He was mumbling something, but I couldn’t figure it out–and didn’t want to.
I struggled violently to break free, but he held me tight, his eyes closed, and his head slowly lowered.
Did he try to kiss me?
I fought back, breaking away and slapping him hard in the face.
The impact caused his head to snap to one side.
After a long pause, he returned my gaze with clear eyes.
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out.
I grabbed my suitcase, pushed past him, and left without looking back.
Beckham did not follow; he would not follow me again.
As I approached the neighborhood’s gate, I looked out at the bustling street beyond. Cars and people filled the scene, with lights everywhere turning night into day, but there wasn’t a single light shining just for me.
I hesitated for a moment before flagging down a taxi and heading to my mother’s house.
My father had died early, and my mother now lived with my younger brother, Joe Abbott, who was already married and had recently given birth to a child.
When I arrived, I could hear the TV playing through the door, and my mother was cooing to her young grandson.
I hesitated for a moment before raising my hand and knocking on the door.
There was a brief silence inside before my mother arrived to open the door.
When my mother opened the door and saw me, she froze, and her eyes flickered with confusion as she looked at the suitcase beside me. I forced an awkward smile and followed her inside.
My sister-in-law, Lydia Amber, who had been happily playing with the baby, saw me and her expression immediately changed.
My mum poured me a glass of water.
“What is going on?” Why are you here in the middle of the night?” she asked.
I didn’t want to explain, and my voice was rough as I responded, “Mom, I’ll only stay for one night. “I will leave tomorrow.”
She didn’t say anything, and I looked over at Joe. When we were kids, I spoilt him the most, always saving the best food for him.
Lydia nudged Joe with displeasure in her eyes.
Joe cleared his throat: “Just one night, okay, sis?” Will you leave tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” I said, nodding.
Lydia pinched Joe and, visibly upset, took the baby and entered the bedroom.
Before bed, my mother brought over a blanket and smoothed out the sofa for me, saying, “I know you and Beckham had a fight, but couples don’t stay angry forever.” Just be sensible and return tomorrow. You can see there is no space for you here.”
I saw my mother busy making my bed, and after a long silence, I murmured a soft response.
The sofa was too small, and I couldn’t get comfortable. My head began to ache again, so I got up, filled a glass with water, and took two painkillers.
I couldn’t sleep, so I sat on the sofa with my knees pulled to my chest, tears streaming down my face. The walls were thin, and I stifled my sobs to avoid disturbing anyone.
I fell asleep just before dawn, but the sunlight soon woke me up again. I sat on the sofa, lost in thought, wondering where I should go today.
I didn’t have much in savings and had no intention of touching Beckham’s money.
I was deep in thought when I heard a knock on the door.
My mother called and went to open it.
Beckham walked in, carrying bags full of things, and spoke sweetly to my mother and Lydia, who both smiled and were clearly won over.
I struggled violently to break free, but he held me tight, his eyes closed, and his head slowly lowered.
Did he try to kiss me?
I fought back, breaking away and slapping him hard in the face.
The impact caused his head to snap to one side.
After a long pause, he returned my gaze with clear eyes.
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out.
I grabbed my suitcase, pushed past him, and left without looking back.
Beckham did not follow; he would not follow me again.
As I approached the neighborhood’s gate, I looked out at the bustling street beyond. Cars and people filled the scene, with lights everywhere turning night into day, but there wasn’t a single light shining just for me.
I hesitated for a moment before flagging down a taxi and heading to my mother’s house.
My father had died early, and my mother now lived with my younger brother, Joe Abbott, who was already married and had recently given birth to a child.
When I arrived, I could hear the TV playing through the door, and my mother was cooing to her young grandson.
I hesitated for a moment before raising my hand and knocking on the door.
There was a brief silence inside before my mother arrived to open the door.
When my mother opened the door and saw me, she froze, and her eyes flickered with confusion as she looked at the suitcase beside me. I forced an awkward smile and followed her inside.
My sister-in-law, Lydia Amber, who had been happily playing with the baby, saw me and her expression immediately changed.
My mum poured me a glass of water.
“What is going on?” Why are you here in the middle of the night?” she asked.
I didn’t want to explain, and my voice was rough as I responded, “Mom, I’ll only stay for one night. “I will leave tomorrow.”
She didn’t say anything, and I looked over at Joe. When we were kids, I spoilt him the most, always saving the best food for him.
Lydia nudged Joe with displeasure in her eyes.
Joe cleared his throat: “Just one night, okay, sis?” Will you leave tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” I said, nodding.
Lydia pinched Joe and, visibly upset, took the baby and entered the bedroom.
Before bed, my mother brought over a blanket and smoothed out the sofa for me, saying, “I know you and Beckham had a fight, but couples don’t stay angry forever.” Just be sensible and return tomorrow. You can see there is no space for you here.”
I saw my mother busy making my bed, and after a long silence, I murmured a soft response.
The sofa was too small, and I couldn’t get comfortable. My head began to ache again, so I got up, filled a glass with water, and took two painkillers.
I couldn’t sleep, so I sat on the sofa with my knees pulled to my chest, tears streaming down my face. The walls were thin, and I stifled my sobs to avoid disturbing anyone.
I fell asleep just before dawn, but the sunlight soon woke me up again. I sat on the sofa, lost in thought, wondering where I should go today.
I didn’t have much in savings and had no intention of touching Beckham’s money.
I was deep in thought when I heard a knock on the door.
My mother called and went to open it.
Beckham walked in, carrying bags full of things, and spoke sweetly to my mother and Lydia, who both smiled and were clearly won over.