The silence was suffocating.
I closed my eyes, my heart pounding, and waited for something between fear and curiosity.
A moment later, he spoke softly, his voice trembling:
“You can sleep, Sarah. I won’t touch you. Not until you’re ready.”
In the darkness, I noticed him lying on his side, his back turned, keeping a great distance – as if he was afraid of hurting me just by touching me.
My heart suddenly softened.
I little expected that the man I only considered “my last choice” would treat me with such respect.
The next morning, I woke up, sunlight streaming through the curtains.
On the table was a breakfast tray: an egg sandwich, a glass of warm milk, and a handwritten note:
“I went to the shop to fix a customer’s TV. Don’t go out if it’s still raining. I’ll be back for lunch.” – James.
