“I just miss you playing.” I’m offering a safe space for him to express himself. He always used to play through every emotion, like I do with paint.
A tender smile flickers across his face. He leans in and kisses me, slowly, before heading for the guitar resting against the wall. We move into the living room, the last of the sunset bleeding through the windows in muted gold. He settles onto the edge of the couch, guitar resting easily against his thigh. He adjusts a string, rolls his shoulder once, then looks up at me without a word.
The first soft, haunting notes of“Smother”by Daughter fill the room. The melody alone squeezes that stubborn, beating thing in my chest. It feels like walking barefoot over old memories, every step full of a beautiful, young love we once shared.
I sink onto the floor in front of him, hugging my knees, letting the music wash over me. His voice is quiet and raw, stripped of any armor. He doesn’t perform it. Heconfessesit. Each wordcarries grief, love, self-blame, longing...all braided together into something devastatingly honest.
The song feels like loving someone too much. Like being afraid that your love will ruin them...or knowing you’re both drowning and choosing to hold on anyway. It feels likeus.
My throat burns.
Halfway through, his eyes lift from the strings and find mine. They don’t let go. It feels like he’s singingatme,tome. The song is a truth he doesn’t want to give me without music. The words are quiet and brutal, and I can feel them settling heavily over me.
I blink hard, but tears still spill over. I don’t bother wiping them away. When the last note fades, the room stays silent for a moment too long. But the song itself lingers, communicating it its own way. That was vulnerable in a way that Jude once was.
He stares at me, noting the wetness on my cheeks. He exhales slowly and lowers the guitar. His gaze stays locked on me.
I swallow, my voice barely holding together. “That onehurts.”
His mouth curves, but it holds sadness. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I know.”
The silence after the song stretches, thick but not uncomfortable. Just...full. I rise slowly, like I’m afraid of breaking whatever spell we’re under.
“That was beautiful, Jude,” I murmur. “Really.”
He smiles softly and sets the guitar aside. “Thank you, baby. I’m ready for dinner now, if you are.
I wipe the last tear from my eye, wondering if he came over to just play that one song to me. My chest aches a little as we move into the kitchen.
“Why that song?” I turn to him.
He doesn’t answer for a moment. “It’s one I feel in my soul.”
I swallow, accepting that answer. I don’t look at him as I focus on plating the food. I suddenly feel his arms wrap around my waist from behind, resting his head on mine.
I feel a question bubbling up, and before I can swallow it down, it leaves my lips. “Have you seen Adriana lately?”
He clears his throat, taking a step back. “No, not since, um…” he trails off. “When I told you she came over last.”
I feel my shoulders relax. It’s been difficult for me to accept this situation. I hate her for hurting him so much. We haven’t really stated that we’reofficialor anything yet. Primarily because ofher.
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.
I jolt slightly, realizing I had just disappeared into my head for a minute. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I slide his plate to him and motion toward the dining table.
He follows closely behind, taking a seat beside me. “Emma…”
My cheeks heat. “I love you.”
“I know you do,” he murmurs, and his hand brushes mine. He sighs, pulling my chair closer to him with ease. “Since the last time she...did that…” he licks his lips, searching for the words.“I’m not going to allow her to do that to me anymore. To hell with the consequences. I can’t do that to you. I can’t have you worrying about me sleeping with someone else. It’s unfair to you.”
I swallow hard.
“I fucking hate her. One day, I may kill her.”
My heart drops into my stomach. I’m silent for a moment while we start eating.
“This is so good, thank you,” he murmurs, smiling at me.
