I see them bloom for me and you,
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.”
There’s no music behind her, but everyone can hear it. Her voice is enough to carry through time and space, and while Charlie might have already been gone a week, he’s definitely here with her. That old geezer never missed a chance to be at the front of her audience, and I guarantee that he isn’t missing this one. Nothing ever stopped that persistent old man before.
“I see skies of blue, and clouds of white.
The bright blessed day. The dark sacred night.
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.”
I can feel the mood of the room change as she closes her eyes, really getting into the song. She was so nervous this morning on our way here, knowing she was going to do this today. But I certainly don’t see any evidence of it now. I remember just a few months ago, when she sang in front of me for the first time, she was almost too shaky to finish cutting Carter’s hair. Her confidence has come such a long way since then, and the epiphany might be just as beautiful as the words spilling from her lips.
“The colors of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky.
And also on the faces of people passing by.
I see friends shaking hands saying, ‘How do you do?’
They're really saying, ‘I love you.’”
When her eyes open and meet mine just as she vocalizes those last three words in front of this entire room, I almost faint. Is that what fangirling is? If so, I totally just fawned over my wife. The capacity of her heart, and how pure she truly is inside, never ceases to amaze me. It’s almost impossible for her not to care about every single person she meets, and her loyalty is unmatched. She always talks about how deeply I feel, and how good I am at my words, but if someone were to ask me? She’s got me beat.
“I hear babies cry. I watch them grow
They'll learn much more than I'll ever know
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.”
Yes, I think to myself, what a wonderful world.”
The room is silent now. Sniffling and soft breaths are the only sounds around us, and no one dares to move. It’s as if we can all feel the same grief, the same sadness, and somehow, we’ve all agreed to sulk in it for just a while longer.
Chapter 6
Damien
‘Provider’ – Sleep Token
With a sharp inhale through my nose, my eyes snap open. The room is dark, and the only source of light is from the moonlight beaming in from the windows. Our bedside clock reads just after two in the morning, and she’s sound asleep beside me. She’s got a little bit of drool slipping out of her mouth, and it instantly eases my mind.
I just shake my head and grin. Seeing her in such a deep, peaceful state soothes whatever destructive sting forced me to wake up. Her mere presence silences whatever war is waging between my psyche and my physical form—it always has. I drag the pad of my thumb across her bottom lip slowly and wipe the drool away before I slip it on my tongue. My eyelids fall closed as I taste her, and my chest instantly rumbles, charging my muscled form like a machine.
My cock instantly stiffens in response, and I bury my nose in her hair. Her scent causes heat to bloom in my chest. A soft hum follows and bursts throughout my entire body like static as I start to caress her skin. I move across her stomach, over her hip, down her thigh, and pretty much anywhere I can reach without causing her to stir. Every inch I graze causes that hum to pulse, and it sends shocks through my limbs.
I pull my hand upward to trace a line along her stomach and between her breasts, until I get to the scar that makes my throat constrict. Memories from that live stream play in my head instantly, and it causes me to stop. The way she gritted her teeth and endured the pain for me charges forward like a hallucination. I recall how her blood immediately rose to the surface and dripped down her body, but most importantly, how I wasn’t there to stop it.
She lived through hours of torment, both physical and mental, and all I could do was watch from a God damn screen—observe in agony as she took every blow to heart. The words that vile piece of shit said still linger in her mind, and occasionally, I can almost hear them. They come alive in the most unexpected moments, and I can always feel when they return.
None of what he said was true. Not a single fucking word.
I still think my wife is the most beautiful being to ever walk the earth. Her face is the muse sculptors yearn for, and her body is a fever dream, constantly lighting up any space she walks into. I’m still just as obsessed with her as ever, and these past five weeks without feeling her pussy strangle my cock has almost killed me. But as much as I want that, it’s her head I’m worried about—her emotional state and how she sees my failures.
What if I don’t do it right? What if I can’t show her how I feel properly? That’s never been an issue for us before, but as much as I hate it, things are different now. Her mind, while in a better spot than it could be after what she went through, isstill processing what happened. I don’t want my touch to have any doubt, and I know the slightest bit will cause her to spiral. I know deep down she’s afraid thathewas right, and that I won’t ever view her the same way again.
Which would never. Fucking. Happen.
Ashia is the strongest person I know, and her scars only prove that.
