Page 31 of The Heart Of A Real Woman
She let out a soft laugh. “That’s to be expected. I heard about your new bundle of joy. Congratulations. Mr. Mikaelson told me the news and even shared your favorite dish. We were hoping since you loved grilled salmon that it would sit well with you. But if it doesn’t, I can make something else.”
I waved her off. “Oh no, that sounds perfect. I’m never too sick for my salmon. Thank you.”
We shared a laugh.
“No problem at all, dear. If you’d like, I can show you the way.”
“Yes, please. Thank you.”
I followed her down the stairs and out toward the beach, where a cabana had been set up near the shoreline. The table was done up beautifully. Candles, rose petals, and a full spread of food. Sitting in one of the chairs was Moses, shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and a Cuban link hanging from his neck. I paused, contemplating retreating inside, but something compelled me to move my ass forward instead.
After thanking Isabella for her kindness, I took a seat across from him. Like always lately, silence filled the space between us. The only thing breaking it was the soft sound of the waves crashing nearby. This wasn’t how I had pictured my evening going, but with the ocean so close, I figured I could make the best of it.
Moses looked at me, eyes heavy with emotion. Without saying a word, he leaned forward and gently rubbed my belly, now slightly noticeable in the fitted gown I wore. I didn’t speak or move. I knew what this meant to him. And part of me did feel terrible for keeping the pregnancy from him.
When he finished, he reached for my hand. And to my surprise, I didn’t pull away. We bowed our heads, and he said a quiet prayer over the food. The same one I’d taught him long ago. I didn’t close my eyes. Instead, I found myself watching him… admiring him, even. Then, just like old times, we started eating.
“One whole year and damn near five months, Mary.” Moses said eventually, leaning back in his chair. His voice was calm, but I could feel the weight behind every word.
I looked up from my plate, catching the empty glass in front of him. He’d drained it. That alone told me he was on one. He had been drinking since our flight.
“What does that mean?”
“That’s how long you checked out on me. A nigga tried so many times to talk to you…reach you. But it was like talkin’ to a fucking brick wall. That shit got me nowhere. What was I supposed to do?”
“Try harder,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Or wait until I got it together, no matter how long it took… no matter how uncomfortable it made you feel. That’s what I would’ve done for you. That’s what Ihavedone for you during your darkest moments.”
He nodded slowly, dragging a hand down his face. “I hear you. But you forget one thing, baby.”
“What’s that?”
He leaned in, eyes locking with mine.
“I ain’t never made you feel neglected. Not once. No matter what I was dealing with, I still made sure you felt me there. Even in my silence, I kept you close. But you? You shut down and left me on the outside. I was locked out with no fucking key, and you ain’t even look back.”
I sat there, speechless. And suddenly, the fork slipped from my hand, clattering against the plate. He continued.
“Talkin’ to me was too much for you. Makin’ love to me felt like a fucking chore to you, a job you ain’t wanna clock into. Me asking you questions felt like a war ‘cause you always foundan issue as if a nigga was bugging you. What the fuck else was I supposed to do?”
“Don’t turn this around on me, nigga. You hurt me.” My voice cracked, but I kept my tone sharp.
“I’m not flippin’ shit. I know I hurt you. I know I fucked up. But I’m askin’ you to see why. Not to excuse it, but to understand I made a mistake because I was searching for something I lacked at home…something I used to have with you. A conversation… a fucking vibe. You went numb on me for a long ass time. That doesn’t make what I did right, but I felt neglected. That’s not an excuse. That’s real, Shorty.”
“I was depressed, you stupid muthafucka!” I found myself shouting at the top of my lungs.
“And so was I. Plenty of times. You ain’t the only one who felt empty. But I still got up every day and tried to be the man you needed. I held you down even when I felt like I was sinkin’.” He said calmly with a gaze that pierced through my soul.
Moses always had this way about him. I could scream, belittle him, and curse his ass out, but he never lost his cool with me. He never disrespected me. I only could always feel his emotions through his eyes, and the rhythm of his heartbeat when I was close to him. His eyes said everything. And right now, they were screaming.
“I know what you went through when the doctor hit you with that news about why you couldn’t get pregnant. I do. And I understood how that could hurt you. So, I wasn’t asking for you to be all in, baby. Not 100%. But after a year and a half of feeling like I ain’t even exist to you… even one percent would’ve meant somethin’. But I got nothin’.”
I sat there, lost. My mind swirled with memories, each one heavier than the last. All the nights I cried myself to sleep.The way I avoided mirrors during heavy breakouts, the scarring it left behind. The way my heart broke every time someone asked when we were having a baby.
“No, you didn’t understand. You couldn’t possibly understand.” I whispered, tears sliding down my cheeks.
“PCOS didn’t just fuck with my body, it fucked with my head, Moses. I’ve been insecure for years, but this… this made me feel broken. Fuck a scar on my face. It left me with a wound that you couldn’t so easily heal. I felt like less of a woman. I couldn’t do the one thing I was supposed to as a woman. I couldn’t give you the one thing I was supposed to as your wife.”
The tears came harder. I wanted to disappear. Talking about it made me feel exposed, raw, like my soul was bleeding out on the table.
