Half a Man at Best (Sequel to VALERIE)

Chapter Twenty-four

The parking lot is empty – I reckon he’s still in Cheshire with his family – and I sigh in relief because he doesn’t have to see me doing this to myself. He knows this is going to torture me even just by stepping foot on the doorway. But I gulp and take in all the courage in the world that I can muster up to continue walking.

Every step I take on the concrete path is somewhat heavy, as if my feet dig deep with every contact to the ground. I know what my heart couldn’t take as soon as I step inside but my brain is urging for it to man up and face them so that I’d finally overcome the pain.

If I truly love Harry, I should do this.

My heart has never beaten this insanely fast before and I even find myself fumbling with the spare key I had have after I fish it out of my bag. I was a little bit apprehensive when he handed me a spare key before I left. He never said why although I know he was hoping that I would keep it for future preference, and now I am glad I did.

My hands are shaking while I fit the key to the keyhole, realizing that this would be the very first time that I’d set foot to this place after I left ten months ago. Nothing much has changed actually. He didn’t even dare change the white paint of the external walls and the windows are still tinted black. The vines that usually cluttered the walls have been removed just like I have always asked him to do before – because it covered the remainder of the beautiful structure of the house. It also made the house look old and empty.

With one push, the door immediately creaks open and I poke my head first before the rest of my body steps entirely in. With a couple more steps, I am already in the foyer and I look around before my eyes land to a large painting raised on the wall. It was a painting of a wilted tree having two opposite perspectives – half is smothered in black background and the other in white. I didn’t really know how I came up with the idea. I just allowed my hand to splatter the colours on the blank canvas.

My feet pad on the floor straight ahead and I reach the living room while I allow my eyes to wander around the space. My tall table is pushed at the corner of the large room where I usually placed my flower vase – or work on flower arrangement. My fingers graze over the back of the plush couch as I walk along, closing my eyes as the memories crash me like a strong wave.

 “Darcy sounds cute.” I told Harry as we were engulfed in each other’s embrace on the couch. My back leaned against his body as his arms were wrapped around me .The continuous motion of his calloused hand on my bare belly – he pushed my tank top up to the bottom of my chest – soothed me in a way that I could almost fall asleep if we weren’t engrossed in a conversation about baby names. I was only two months pregnant then but we couldn’t keep the excitement that came with having the little version of either Harry or me. Come to think of it, we were talking of baby names since we found out I was pregnant.

Obviously, he stuck to the name which he committedly recited when he was once interviewed.

“If it’s a boy?” He asked and by the sound of it, I knew he was pouting his lips.

“Um…” I hum as I racked my brains off of all the options to name our baby if in case it’s male. “I’d like Dylan.” I said, turning my head halfway so that I could catch a glimpse of his face. I saw the flicker of delight in his eyes which cause me to smile at him.

“Dylan? Yeah, Dylan sounds great too. Why though?”

“I heard Dylan means son of the sea, and we both know I love the ocean. So yeah, Dylan.”

“Okay, then. Dylan it is.” He said and I giggled as he squeezed me impossibly closer.

Turning to the far right corner and into another entrance, my sight immediately scans the kitchen where cutleries were confined within the cupboards and little racks. The fixtures are still arranged the same way just like before and I deliberately walk towards the marble top to have a closer look.