“Finally,” I mutter when my login screen comes up.
I spend the next hour reviewing anything I can find on love languages. Lionel was right. Some people are skeptical about them, and I can understand why, but I’m using them as my guide to make this right with Hayvin, anyway.
Instead of choosing one to focus on, they all play a part in my journey of redemption.
I hope.
Physical touch comes last because I need her to know her importance to me without it.
I push back from my desk, rolling my neck and shoulders to chase away the stiffness from too long spent staring at the screen.
Keys in hand, I lock up and jog to my car, eager to hit the store and gather everything I need for my first gift.
Hours later, I dump the bags onto my bed and can’t help but laugh at myself. I might have gone a little overboard.
Scissors, many types of glue, rolls of tape, sheets of stickers, and colored and patterned paper land along the top of my mattress.
Shaking my head, I head to the closet for the box I’ve always kept hidden, only ever opening it when Hayvin was gone. Only now do I see how much I kept my feelings locked away from her.
Fuck, it’s no wonder she left my ass.
Opening the closet doors stings. The empty hangers dangle, lonely and waiting, a constant reminder of the woman who’s no longer here.
I hated the emptiness so much that I turned the closet into chaos, just like when Hayvin was here. Shoes are scattered, ties draped carelessly, and everything except my work suits is shoved onto shelves instead of folded neatly.
It basically resembles my life right now.
Complete disarray without Hayvin.
I rummage through the closet until I find the box, buried beneath a mess of things I barely recognize. It’s usually tucked away in its special spot, but I’ve pulled it out so many times since Hayvin left that I must have forgotten to put it back.
Anyone watching me carry this box would think it’s full of breakables. They’d be right, just not in the way they expect. It took Hayvin for me to realize how much of a sentimental sap I really am.
I set the box on the bed and carefully lift the lid, uncovering three years’ worth of memories I’ve kept tucked away.
One look inside this box, and anyone would see the truth I’ve been hiding in my heart.
Now it’s time to lay it all out for Hayvin, to finally show her not just what I’ve kept hidden, so she understands the depth of my feelings in every piece of this gift.
Gift Giving
Alek
Ineverknewhowcomforting it could be to pour your heart into something that means the world to someone you love. Each careful movement soothed my nerves and muffled the cruel voice in my mind, insisting none of this mattered. That voice always tried to convince me I should be doing something more useful, but I forced it down, recognizing the echo of my father in its tone. He never grasped what love or family meant. No wonder I turned out so damn broken.
I flinch as I pick up the gift-wrapped box from the coffee table. When I glance at my hands, a crooked smile tugs at my lips. Bandages cover a few fingers, souvenirs from the hot glue gun, and tiny cuts crisscross my skin like a map of my clumsy devotion. Time and care poured into this, a symbol—my effort to somehow piece together what I broke.
Who the hell knew that crafting could be so damn dangerous?
Love sometimes stings, but these little wounds are nothing next to the ache Hayvin has carried since I shattered her heart.
The drive to Hayvin’s house is second nature by now. I’ve traced this path so many times since I found out where she’d gone. These nights parked outside, keeping silent watch, have become a strange comfort. A way to ease the guilt for what I put her through. I’m her shadow, and she has no idea.
It still stuns me that I ever forgot she kept it. In my mind, once she moved in, I never imagined I’d hurt her badly enough that she’d need it again.
I’ve been such a damn fool.
I chew the inside of my cheek as I wait for Hayvin to answer. I’ve talked myself out of this a thousand times since pulling into her driveway. Doubts and old ghosts urge me to turn back, to quit. But I’m done running. I found my home in her three damn years ago, but fear kept me from letting her hold me.
