Episode 48| Closed Minds Don't Open Doors

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Song above- Ivy by Frank Ocean

⚠️ mature content ⚠️

Sophia's P.O.V.

"I won't bring it up." I was becoming exhausted with how closed off and standoffish Bryce was when it was regarding his past, but I wasn't going to lecture him about it. "Let's go to bed."

Sleep seemed like a blissful alternative than having the argument that was facing us in the horizon. "I can see this is a sensitive topic. We don't have to discuss this any further."

Dubiously, he stared at me. "You want to know. I can tell you do."

"No, I don't." My palms on his jacket slid off and returned to my sides. "Bringing it up is making you unhappy. We've gone through enough in the past couple of hours. Opening up to me about your past can wait."

When the time comes, he would tell me. I was sure of it. Dragging the truth out of him now, like this, didn't feel right.

I wanted Bryce to one day be expressive and transparent as possible. I was hoping that day wasn't years away, but I could wait however long he needed me to.

Bryce puffed up his cheeks, exhaling while studiously focusing on a speck on his Leon couches. Muttering not a single word to me, he took my hand and guided me into the hallway. "If I'm going to tell you, I should start from the beginning."

"Bryce...you don't have to."

"I need to."

Astound at how urgent he sounded, I became compliant in his sudden need that wasn't there minutes ago.

Bryce jammed his right hand into his pocket. A pair of keys jingled, looped on his finger, as he inspected each one, searching for the correct key.

In the hallway, the room he had taken us to was the one I had tried to open during my second visit here. "What room is this?"

"When I moved into this apartment, I only owned this apartment number. I didn't own the top two floors. Julia and I had enough money put aside to get this place." He took a beat whilst twisting the doorknob and pushing it open. With one flick of the switch, the room became illuminated in warm lighting, brushing across surfaces that looked like they hadn't been touched in years. Dust coated the dresser by the window and a lamp near a closet. "The first room we decorated was the baby's room."

The room was painted in a neutral color and the few toys scattered underneath the window seat looked virtually unused yet it wasn't covered in dust, making me wonder if the child was born at all. I pondered if Bryce was in here this week. It wasn't entirely untouched. It was obviously recently cleaned.

One rocking chair, set next to the wooden baby crib, had a children's book on the seat. I couldn't tell if it was my allergies acting up because of the dust or the sheer pain I felt, rattling me to my bone at the sight of this.

"We didn't know if it was going to be a boy or a girl," Bryce spoke up, seeming to read my eyes. "Julia didn't want to know. I still don't know. I sometimes like pretending like I do and think of what they would be doing now and if they'd be anything like me or like their mother. It's all a part of my imagination though because I never got the chance to see them."

"Did you have names planned out?" I croaked, despising the crack in my voice.

"Kathrine if it they were a girl. It's my grandmother's name," he replied, "and Dawson if they were a boy."

"Oh, why that name?"

"That was her older brother's name. He died in Vietnam. I never met him. He sounded like a nice guy though from what she told me about him." He vaguely gestured to the dresser. "She used to always wear his military dog tags. They're somewhere in those drawers."

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