BECOMING MY EX's SURROGATE

RETHINKING THE MESS

Two hours later!

Once again, I am tickled from my sound sleep by the savage rays of the summer sun scorching my face. I coerce my orbs to peel, though unwillingly. If I could, I would choose to bask in this peace forever. I feel reborn. Totally reborn.

My plump lips were curving up, a beautiful smile urging its way out to add more light to this room, but the screeching sound of the door blocks it up at the throat as the reminder of what has brought about all this sudden glee in the last couple of hours saunters in.

My ex. The one and only Liam Morgan Adams! The only man I have ever loved.

I jerk up slowly to avoid irritating my muscles further and curl up under the duvet.

All the memories of what we just did this morning flow in, tickling my head with a rhapsodic bang of all sorts of sentiments. It was a moment of weakness, but it brought about all the old feelings and cravings, like we never stopped loving each other. It pulled us off a cliff of the rapture of emotions and tossed us into a heap of unquenchable, burning desires. The spades were so strong, threatening to consume us into ashes if we dared to curb them. We submitted our all. It was a moment of pure euphoric pleasure. We swam to the moon and explored Cloud Nine. It was surreal. It was magical. It was terrific, just like the sweet yet bitter old times. A beautiful, sweet sin it was!

That thought alone hangs a very heavy curtain of glee on my face, kicking aside this basket of glee and diving into an ocean of knocking sentiments and so many questions. I am not really justifying myself, but maybe I can argue that given my situation, it was perhaps okay for me to forget about my morals and dignity for a short moment. It was alright for me to feel all that strong desire; the burning heat of affection in the midst of this quagmire might have lured me to drown in it all. It was okay for me to surrender myself like that, especially because I had been on dry land ever since he left, and his showing up at the exact moment of confusion and hopelessness topped it all.

But him? Why did he succumb to that temptation? Why did he let that happen? Why did it feel like he was lost in that sin with me? Like he relished every bit of that moment? Why did he ignite that fire to start with? I understand that temptations such as that could be hard to resist sometimes, but he is married, for crying out loud! That alone should have knocked out his sixth sense!

Gawking intently at him, I browse the layers of his eyes one by one, searching through them, hoping to try and understand why he allowed himself to fall into that clustered rapture of sinful pleasures with me—searching for any tinge of remorse or regrets about what we have done. I try to read his eyes, like I did back then. He doesn’t object to my mission, and I dive into his beautiful pools, dancing through their intense sparks that threaten to cage me in them forever.

A decade of pure lull and scrutiny goes by, but I still can't find what I am searching for. Nothing comes close to regrets. If there is anything I decipher from his glue-some orbs, it’s the unfamiliar curtain that has cloaked that magical glitter they always had. And his face—that signature charming smirk he always wore—isn't there anymore. I haven't seen it since I woke up to his strange presence this morning, but maybe he is saddened by the state he found me in. But back then, he had it on despite anything. Does my situation worry him this much, or did something change over time?

“I made breakfast.” He utters it, his eyes still holding mine.

I took a breath, breaking the stare challenge, or so I thought, because I found myself gazing back into them again.

“I don’t recall knowing you as someone who could set foot in the kitchen.” I state it, and it’s the truth.

He urges a slight grin as he speaks, shifting in his posture.

“Well. That was back then. I am different now.” He says it in a tone that doesn’t sound so good to me. And his evading my gaze tops my curiosity.

Of course, he is different. He is married. But shouldn't that be more reason as to why he hates the kitchen more now? Or maybe I am getting it all wrong.

“What changed?” My sincere intent was to mind my own business, but the curiosity is itching me in a way I can not explain.