Rosie's Thorns 🥀|18+|🥀

64 | Blossoming

That Part - Lauren Spencer Smith

《¤Rosie¤》

Things would never be the same. It's something I've had to come to terms with in my last therapy session. I couldn't figure out when everything changed. Over a year ago I wouldn't have seen myself where I am now. I wouldn't have seen myself standing next to Dominic as the court clerk prattled on. I wouldn't have seen myself standing up for myself. I wouldn't have seen Hana standing only a few feet from me smiling sadly.

Once upon a time, over five year ago, I could see myself standing right where I was. Before everything shattered, before Luca and Armando shoved the wedge between us, I had seen a glimpse of the future. Every weekend we'd sneak away into the storage room, our hideout, and in that tiny room we could escape reality and wish for a future without bloodshed and the trials that would come.

I was a regular little girl. I wanted a white pocket fence, a home for our children, and a man I could grow old with on the front porch swing. I wanted a big fairy-tale wedding. The white gown, the rose bouquet, the church and pews filled with friends and family. I wanted a big celebration that I could photograph and looked back on. The only question I ask myself now, would have I been happy?

Have my views changed? Yes... they have.

I don't need the white pocket fence or the house. I think I don't even want kids anymore. And the front porch swing has turned into a tiny sofa back in his tiny-ass apartment. My dreams might have been dashed, but they were replaced by a solid hope that I could firmly grasp. It wasn't a fantasy anymore. I could have what I wanted if I wished it.

I look up at him as he responds to the court clerk, in one of his dashing blazers and pressed trousers. He stood tall and confident as his deep voice murmured softly. It seems only yesterday he towered over me as the elevator doors opened, brooding and gloomy as his eyes tore through me. It's a distant memory. The man that stood next to me was different. His eyes were softer and there was a fragile note that sang from his soul whenever his gaze settled on me.

Only a month ago I got my Dom back. Was he the same man I'd fallen for? Of course not, but I wasn't the same woman either. We had our scars and our broken pieces. We had wounds that neither of us could mend for each other. Therapy has been our rescue. Not only individual sessions, but as a couple too. It's helped. Not only with communication, but regarding our intimacy life. I still struggle, but it's gotten better. I'm finally able to sleep in a bed again, even if I can't cuddle like I used to. It often times overwhelmes me and I end up sitting a few feet fro him trying to control the ticks that flex my fingers and tilts my chin. I still have nightmares and there are times when I blackout in utter terror.

Not once has he left me alone in any of this. He sits with me and encourages me. He's the lighthouse beckoning me out of the waves of chaos. I hope I am as much help as he is to me. I hope I anchor him when he loses touch with reality. I hope in a sea of pain and misery, I am the small shred of light amongst the darkness.

I hope I am enough. I know he is for me.

We have a long road of recovery ahead of us. I have my demons and he has his. Mío hasn't made an appearance and with therapy, we believe it may be for good. Dr. Stevens has made comments that incline Mío and Dominic may have merged when Ackermans undid what he'd done during hypnotherapy. Whether that is true or not, we have yet to find proof. Either way, Mío or no Mío, I'm here to stay and hold his hand through all of this.

There are things we have yet to figure out. Will we sell my fathers businesses or invest in them? Will we take a step back from the underworld and hope it doesn't come back for us? Will I publish the book I'm working on or toss it aside as therapy? All of it was a mystery. Our future was a blank slate we could paint. Neither of us had plans quite yet.