His Knees 29
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The sound of police sirens cut through the air. I could hear them getting closer, their lights flashing in the distance. I didn't move from my spot by the window as the
police arrived, guns drawn. They approached Nathan cautiously, assessing
the scene. The rogues, battered and
bruised, were being handcuffed and
dragged away one by one.
Nathan reached the front steps and
knocked, his hand still trembling from the
fight.
I hesitated for a moment before opening the door. Nathan stood there, bloodied, bruised, and holding the bouquet like it was some sort of peace offering. His eyes flickered to the toys scattered across the floor inside the house. They belonged to
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Oliver. The sight of them seemed to stir something in Nathan, a brief flash of guilt crossing his face.
"-" He started, then stopped. He cleared his throat, trying again. "Doris, I'm sorry. I've been a fool. I know I messed up, and I want to make things right."
I didn't say anything, just stood there, staring at him blankly. My silence seemed to make him more desperate.
"I brought these for you," he said, lifting the roses. "I know how much you love
them."
I raised an eyebrow, the coldness in my voice unmistakable. "I'm allergic to roses.
Nathan blinked, taken aback. "What?"
"Sienna told you I loved roses, didn't she?"
I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
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Nathan stammered, his confusion
growing. "Yeah, she-she said you loved them. I thought-"
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head.
"Of course she did.
remembered the day Sienna had brought me flowers when I was pregnant. I'd been
allergic, and the roses had made me break
out in hives, my skin itching so badly I
couldn't stop scratching. Nathan hadn't believed me back then, accusing me of
using some new cosmetic that had caused
the reaction. He had sided with Sienna, as
always.
Nathan's face fell as he realized his
mistake. "I-I didn't know," he whispered.
"Of course you didn't." My voice was flat,
emotionless. "You never listened. You always believed whatever Sienna told you. You've never known me, Nathan. Not
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really,"
His hand tightened around the boNqNet, his knuckles white. "I'm sorry, Doris, I
really am. I didn't mean to
"Leave," I interrupted, my voice hard as
steel. "Get out of my house, Nathan, Or FI
call the police again."
Nathan's eyes widened, panic setting in
"Doris, please"
"I said leave,"
I
He stood there for a moment longer, as if
hoping I would change my mind. But when
I didn't move, didn't soften, he finally
turned away, the bouquet of roses still
clutched in his hand. I watched as he
walked back down the steps, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
As soon as he was gone, I closed the door
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99
Dand leaned against it, the weight of the
evening pressing down on me. The house was a mess, toys scattered everywhere,
urniture broken, the remnants of the
ght lingering in the air,
But for the first time in a long time, I felt nothing. No anger, no sadness, no regret.
Just indifference.
I stood there, staring at Nathan as he lingered in my yard, looking lost, broken, and bleeding. The sight of him disgusted me more than anything. He was clutching that stupid bouquet of roses like it was supposed to mean something, like it could
erase everything that had happened.
Roses, of all things. He still didn't get it. He
never had.
I
I could feel the heat rising in my chest as I looked down at the flowers. Red roses.
Sienna must've told him I liked them. I
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hadn't liked roses in years-not since the last time Sienna had come around with a
I was
bouquet of f them, back when I w
pregnant. I remember how itchy my skin had gotten, the way my eyes had watered until I could barely see. Nathan had
blamed it on me, of course. Said it was because of some cosmetics I had used, not the flowers I was clearly allergic to.
I tossed the bouquet into the trash bin by the door, slamming the lid down harder
than I needed to. The sound echoed
through the quiet night air, cutting
through the tension that hung between us. I glanced back at Nathan. He still hadn't moved, standing there like he was waiting for me to say something, to take him back. "Nathan, leave," I said, my voice cold, but
steady. I was done. "Go home."
He didn't move. His eyes, dark and full of guilt, flickered to the trash bin where the
His Knees, His Pleas, But Our Son's in Peace,
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roses lay. For a second, I thought he might say something-an apology, maybe-but no words came. Just silence, heavy and suffocating.
"I'm not leaving," he finally whispered, his voice hoarse. "I'm staying right here, Doris. Please, just let me talk."
I crossed my arms, feeling the frustration
talk about? You didn't listen then, and
boiling inside me. "Talk? What's there to
you're not listening now."
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