- Messages
- 22
Sarah held her husband's hand to her lips, listening as the beeps from the muggle machine echoed steadily into the room. Once she had thought herself in love with him, after Avery was born. The birth had softened her for a time, had made her see that her once wild ways were destroying her and her forced family. It had been special, for a time. Walks to the park with her babes as her husband went away on business. Phone calls in the night, postcards with beautifully written words. She had loved him once. Until the day she had found out about his other life, his other love. The love whom he could never had told his parents nor his young bride. Ever.
Sarah had given up on magic, on her family, as the pain ate away at her. She tried to keep up the charade for years, convinced that the harder she tried, the more loving she became, that he would bestow all of his love upon her. Until the day he sat her down and told her he would live with his lover most of the year, coming home for the children. He would provide for them and not scandalize her family's good name by divorce. The smile had frozen on her lips, becoming brittle until he had left, flying out that night. That was the day that Sarah Singleton Reine had broken. Each day she woke up, and drank upon the dry sweet sherry until she was foxed before noon.
After many years she became a functioning drunk. None could tell when she was, as she was always in her cups. Yet she knew she was as beautiful as she was years ago; his money saw to that. Her lovers told her so as well. She hated him for so long until the day he came home and collapsed upon the new rug she had ordered the week prior. It was then that all of the good times and all of the bad came rushing to her as she sobbed into the phone. The ambulance came, she rode with him the entire way.
And now here it was she sat, waiting for him to wake, to open his eyes. He was the father of one of her children, her absent husband, yet she would not wish him ill. Not for all of her days.
His eyelids fluttered, his hand twitched within hers.
Sarah had given up on magic, on her family, as the pain ate away at her. She tried to keep up the charade for years, convinced that the harder she tried, the more loving she became, that he would bestow all of his love upon her. Until the day he sat her down and told her he would live with his lover most of the year, coming home for the children. He would provide for them and not scandalize her family's good name by divorce. The smile had frozen on her lips, becoming brittle until he had left, flying out that night. That was the day that Sarah Singleton Reine had broken. Each day she woke up, and drank upon the dry sweet sherry until she was foxed before noon.
After many years she became a functioning drunk. None could tell when she was, as she was always in her cups. Yet she knew she was as beautiful as she was years ago; his money saw to that. Her lovers told her so as well. She hated him for so long until the day he came home and collapsed upon the new rug she had ordered the week prior. It was then that all of the good times and all of the bad came rushing to her as she sobbed into the phone. The ambulance came, she rode with him the entire way.
And now here it was she sat, waiting for him to wake, to open his eyes. He was the father of one of her children, her absent husband, yet she would not wish him ill. Not for all of her days.
His eyelids fluttered, his hand twitched within hers.