The Soldier Next Door

Sometimes you say things in the heat of an argument, yet they say that it is when you actually mean something. I have repeatedly told Ana that I hated her. Hate is such a strong word; I cannot even at this present moment of still being angry tell you if I meant it.

Though she has, in turn, said some nasty things that were rather hurtful. Did she mean them? Or is it just those heated words that come from an argument?

Whichever way, I don’t know how our relationship will be now. Yes, she is standing with that envelop that I so wish to tear up. She has just realized that she lost her temper over complete nothing. Yet, she has not apologized.

What have we become?

So I only push past her and head to the room, but she calls me back, “I am sorry, Ethan.”All content is © N0velDrama.Org.

“Ana, it is maybe a little bit too late for that.”

She only but drops her head, and I can hear the tiny sobs coming from underneath strained breaths. Now, do I hold her or just continue to walk away?

“Ana, please don’t cry,” yet I do not go any closer as I speak to her. “I don’t want you to upset the baby.”

“Well,” she snaps at me, “I think that it is maybe a little bit too late for that too.”

“Oh, god, please don’t tell me that you are going to start again?”

“Ethan, I just…”

Immediately I interrupt her, I have no idea what she is about to say, but still, I continue, “I know that you are sorry. Just forget about it.”

Though I am not telling her to forget about the fight or the things that we said, I just don’t want her to apologize if she is not even sure what she is apologizing for. The fact remains that our relationship is lying in tatters, and I don’t know if we even know how to fix the damage that has been done.

So as I am yet again on my way to leave, I find that strength and try to let go of the hurt. One thing that I cannot bear seeing is a woman cry; whether it is Ana or my mom, it breaks my heart to see someone else in pain. I guess the only thing that we need now is distance.

But can we at least salvage one thing between all the pieces that are scattered?

With that, I enter the room and find the very thing that we have been fighting about on the dressing table. Not that I think it will heal the wounds; at least there can be one spark of hope injected back into our lives.

Taking one deep breath, I find Ana as she is sitting in the lounge, reading the letter that I wrote to our unborn child. As she sees me coming to sit next to her, there is a shy smile on her face, “Did you write this?”

“Yes, I have been writing them for a while now.”

She looks at me surprised, then I watch as her eyes grow wide, “Is this that shoebox that you have been hiding in the closet?”

Then for the first time in the past hour, I burst out in laughter, “I thought you would have looked inside it a long time ago?”

“I thought it was just one of your service guns?”

“Boo, do you really think I keep my guns in the closet?” Immediately I realize what I have said, so I move a few inches away, handing her the real envelope. “Do you want to see what we are having?”

“But,” she mumbles as she is about to burst into tears again. “We just had…”

I stop her from talking and lie my hand gently on her leg, there is a slight jerk as she does not know how to react, so I take my hand away and softly speak to her, “We can talk about it. But I think that whatever we decide, that there is some serious fixing that needs to be done in our relationship.”

She only nods at me, and with a gentle tug, she shows for me to go ahead and open the envelope. The anticipation is so great that I cannot but help to shake. My words come out as they stumble over my lips, “Are you ready for it?”

She just chuckles, “You make it sounds as if we are about to win the lottery.”

“Hey, we are; we are getting a little something special.”

So with what seems like slow ticking seconds, I pull the photo from the goddamn white envelope. I think I am going to hate white envelopes for a long time to come. I don’t know if I will even continue writing the letters. With little less than three months to go, it feels like it is nearly around the corner. However, it felt like it is the only bond that I had.

But putting that aside.

I have the smooth thick paper, the photo that will reveal the sex of our baby within my fingers. It is like having the power to decide that in the next minute, I will reveal who is the little bump is that has been growing in mommy’s belly.

Now, as I glance at this thing, I can only see a cloudy image, and in the center is our little bump, well not so little anymore, but I have no idea how we are going to tell if it is a boy or a girl. Guess that Ana has got that all covered.

So leaning closer, she takes the one side; her hands are shaking even worse than mine. Then I hear her stutter, or is she giggling? Whatever sound is coming from those cherry lips tells me that she has exactly an idea what the hell is going on with this little paper.

Then she looks at me, “You have no idea, do you?”

“Well, tell me where to look, and I will give you an idea.”

With that, she points to an exact spot on the photo, it only takes me but five seconds, and I have a clear image in my head. There is one satisfied smile that grows on my face, then she laughs in pure pleasure, “So you have won, guess you have been writing your letters to the right little bump.”

I only but shake my head at her, “Little bump needs a name now.”

And then, for a short while, we feel happy again; the excitement of the big reveal has brought us closer, though it will be only short-lived.