My Unfortunate Fate

chapter 91

Life is full of twists and turns, not all of them bad. 

I hate how nervous I get when I'm waiting. I haven't spoken to my husband since we landed, and he's been gone for hours. 

I've transited between his quarters and mine four times in the past hour and a half. I just want him to come home. I return to his quarters, happy they aren't far from mine. I let the floor glide beneath my boots, acknowledging sunlight bathing my right arm as I pass an atrium with tall, intricate windows. I see Master Gallia walk by me. But it isn't her. It can't be. It's her cousin, Stass Allie, one of the most forgiving Council members alongside Obi-Wan and Master Plo Koon. I forget she exists sometimes—when we cross paths, I only see my former master's face. 

I grip the handle and pull Anakin's door open. Locks are pointless in the Jedi Temple. Anyone can unlock any door, however, we don't. Locks are used only when a Jedi wishes to have privacy in their quarters, although others will not hesitate to unlock the door in case an emergency arises. 

I close the door and sigh, sinking against the back of it. "What will it take for you to come home?" I whisper, looking at the ceiling for purchase. Its gunmetal grey surface and rectangular grooves do nothing to appease me. I could contact Anakin via our connection, but it shouldn't come to that. He should be home by now. 

I shake my head as my eyes well up with warm tears. I shouldn't cry. I shouldn't. I wipe my eyes, pull out my holoprojector, and then enter his digits. I take a deep breath and call him. With every second that passes, as my fingers tap against the edge of the device, I become more and more nervous. 

My eyes keep watering. 

Pick up. 

Pick up. 

Please pick up. 

I notice my hands begin to shake, one nearly dropping the projector and the other wiping the pathetic tears off my cheeks. What would he think if he picked up the call and saw me like this? For once, I don't want to be treated like a hurt doe, unable to process my own pain. I don't need Anakin's sympathy. I just need to hear his voice. 

The chime of the outgoing call cuts out, replaced by silence. Heartwrenching, deafening silence. I throw the device against the wall and wail uncontrollably. Anyone can hear what's going on through the door. So what? I assumed I'd be gone a few days from now, but I'm not sure anymore. I don't know if I would leave the Order on my own. 

I hate thinking about it. 

Hate crying about it. 

Hate being paralyzed on the floor as the holoprojector chimes, unable to go get it. 

Maybe it's for the better. Maybe someone else is calling maybe I'm making all of this up maybe it's in my head maybe...I need to take a breath. 

As the device rings, someone knocks on the door. I don't make a sound save for my breaths, which I try to keep to a minimum. The projector shuts up, finally. Another knock taunts me. 

Knock. 

Knock knock. 

Knock knock knock. 

I manage to kneel and, upon regaining my strength, run away. I don't go for the bedroom. It's too warm, too sensitive, too sympathetic, too fake. I turn left and slam the door behind me, my heart racing as someone paces the living room. I hide in the cot, bending my knees so my whole body will fit under the thin blanket. The heat here isn't subtle or comforting, it is present. It traps me here, making breathing harder for my already tender lungs. This is what I need. A hiding place.