Upon returning home, Waylen was still in a depressed mood, a silent weight that pressed upon his thoughts.
Seeking solace, he retreated to the study, the somber ambiance of the room a mirror to his feelings.
Lost in a labyrinth of thoughts, he found himself immersed in the rhythm of a slow exhale, the tendrils of smoke dancing in the air.
Knowing that he was in a bad mood, Rena specially made his favorite food and brought it to him,
Her soft touch removed the cigarette from his lips, and Waylenâs gaze, heavy with unspoken emotion, met hers.
In the quiet of the room, he said in a voice as hushed as a whispered promise, âIâm afraid Jarrod saw the threads of fate before weaving this tapestry.
â
Renaâs own heart ached in empathy, her gaze a mirror to his pain.
Approaching him, she enveloped him in her embrace, her arms a sanctuary against the worldâs troubles.
In this moment, vulnerability found its place between them, the fortress of his strength momentarily crumbled in the presence of his beloved.
âWaylen.
â*
Renaâs voice was a soothing melody.
âI believe there might have been knots in Jarrodâs heart, ones that time couldnât untangle.
I think he was trapped by an emotional burden.
â
Tears glistened in Renaâs eyes, glimmers of empathy in the dimly lit room.
Softly, she continued, âIn his youth, he might have loved someone, a love that perhaps never saw its culmination.
â
Waylenâs arms found their way around her, a gesture of solace, his touch a silent affirmation of their shared connection.
As Renaâs fingers cradled his face, their lips met in a tender ki*s, a fusion of comfort and understanding.
âWaylen, I share your sadness, but we mustnât forget that our purpose is to weave a better life, both for ourselves and for Jarrod.
â
Waylenâs voice was a soft murmur, a gentle admission, âIn the past, I might not have fully appreciated your capacity to mend hearts with your words, Rena.
â
Touched by his admission, Rena touched his neck with tender affection, her voice a soothing balm.
âPlease eat.
Youâve barely had anything today.
And what about your legs? Do they hurt?â
Waylen shook his head.
But Rena, attuned to his needs, saw through the facade.
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She wanted to rub his legs.
Waylen didn*t allow her to do so.
He looked at her and said, bad in the past that you couldnât be a pianist anymore.
And now I have a problem with my legs.
Think of it as my compensation to you.
â was so
Amidst their exchange, a flicker of frustration colored Renaââs expression.
He had never intended to make a full recovery on his legs.
So it was the reason?
âWaylen, I donât need such a compensation from you! Youâre not alone in this journey, Youâre a husband and a father.
How can you hold me and the children if you donât get treatment?â