The Love that Kills me

Chapter 13

Hope’s morning was as bright as the sunshine streaming through the shop’s glass windows. She hummed softly while organizing the new clothes on the rack, her hands moving with an energy she hadn’t felt in so long. Stephen had driven her to work again that morning, even bringing her a warm caramel latte—just the way she liked it. It was a small gesture, but it lit up her entire day.

She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him, at the way he’d opened the car door for her like she was someone special. Crissa noticed, of course—she always did.

“Hope, you’re practically glowing today. Calm it down a bit!” Crissa teased as she rearranged a stack of folded shirts.

“Sorry,” Hope said with a laugh, her cheeks turning pink. “I’m just… excited, I guess. Happy.”

Crissa’s lips curved into a warm smile. “Well, I’m happy for you, Hope. It’s about time you felt this way.”

Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, Crissa pulled something out of her pocket. “Here,” she said, handing it over.

Hope blinked in surprise. “What’s this?”

“Movie tickets,” Crissa said proudly. “You might want to watch it with Stephen.”

Hope’s eyes widened, a delighted gasp escaping her lips. “Crissa! Thank you. You’re the best!”

“It’s a romantic classic,” Crissa said with a wink. “Not sure if Stephen’s into that kind of stuff, but… who knows? Maybe it’ll be a fun night.”

Hope clutched the ticket to her chest, her heart fluttering with anticipation. She didn’t know if Stephen liked movies like this, but she wanted to believe he’d come with her—if only because she asked.

By the time three o’clock rolled around, they were closing the shop, and the energy in Hope’s chest was still buzzing. Crissa helped her lock up, glancing around. “Stephen coming to pick you up today?” she asked.

Hope nodded, a small smile on her lips. “Yeah. He said he’d be here. Maybe he’s just stuck in traffic.”

Crissa gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Okay. Take care, Hope. And if he can’t come… just remember I’m here, okay?”

“I know,” Hope said softly. “Thank you, Crissa. You’re the best friend I could ever have.”

As Crissa left, Hope sat down on the wooden bench outside the shop. She watched the sun dip lower in the sky, the warm glow painting the streets in gold. She clutched her purse in her lap, the movie tickets tucked safely inside.

Five minutes passed. Ten. Then thirty. Each minute felt like a little weight pressing on her chest, and she couldn’t help but glance up at every car that slowed near the curb.

An hour went by. Still no sign of Stephen.

Hope tried to tell herself it was fine—he was probably just busy. Maybe there was some emergency at work, something urgent that kept him from coming sooner. But the longer she sat there, the more her thoughts turned sour.

Maybe I’m hoping too high, she thought. What am I even thinking? He’s only being kind. That’s all.

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her purse. She looked down, trying to swallow the tears that were threatening to slip free. It’s okay, Hope, she told herself. You’re fine. You knew what this was.

Then, at last, the sound of an engine broke through her swirling thoughts. She looked up to see Stephen’s car pulling up in front of her. He stepped out quickly, his expression apologetic.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “Something came up.”

She forced a small smile, even though it felt brittle. “It’s okay, Stephen,” she said softly. “I know you’re busy.”

But in her heart, a little voice was screaming it’s not okay. She wanted to say it—to tell him how waiting had made her feel like she was nothing at all. But she swallowed it down, letting the words die before they ever reached her lips.

The drive home was quiet. Stephen kept his eyes on the road, and Hope kept hers on the world rushing by outside her window. She tried to fight the storm of thoughts in her head, tried to hold onto the fragile hope that maybe—just maybe—this was all just a misunderstanding. But doubt crept in, curling around her heart like cold fingers.

It’s my fault for hoping so high, she thought, pressing her lips together. I should remember my place. I’m just a wife on paper, nothing more.

She took a deep breath, gathering the last scraps of courage she had. When they finally reached the house, she turned to him as he parked the car.

“Stephen,” she said, her voice shaking a little. “I… I wanted to ask you something.”

He turned to her, his brow furrowing. “What is it?”

She swallowed, her fingers brushing nervously against the movie tickets in her bag. “There’s this movie showing next week,” she said quietly. “It’s… it’s a classic romance. I was wondering if… if you’d come watch it with me?”

For a moment, Stephen didn’t answer. She braced herself for the rejection—she was sure he’d say no. But to her surprise, he let out a small, tired smile and nodded.

“Okay,” he said simply. “Let’s go.”

Her heart jumped in her chest. She hadn’t expected him to say yes, and for a moment she just stared at him, unable to hide the wonder in her eyes. “R-Really?” she stammered.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone gentle. “If it’s important to you, then let’s do it.”

She felt like she could hardly breathe. All the disappointment of the afternoon seemed to melt away in that instant, replaced by a cautious, tender hope.

“Thank you, Stephen,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It… it means a lot to me.”

As she stepped out of the car and followed him into the house, she held onto that spark of warmth in her chest. It was small and fragile, but for now, it was enough. And she promised herself she would keep it alive—no matter how many doubts tried to snuff it out.