| Forgive Me | NATALIE&LEVI
Levi was in Washington. With Natalie. For a moment, he laid still in her bedroom, on her bed, with his eyes shut. His hands folded against his abdomen, the man was trying to sort his thoughts. There was still so much he had to learn about her, still so much which had to be done, with a short amount of time. She wanted a child. And the chance of that were growing slimmer by the day. Fear was an understatement of how the man felt. It was much more than that, really. Ā Fear couldnāt describe the overbearing feeling of creating another life, of being in charge of that said life, of being a parent. Swallowing hard, he felt his eyes flutter open, as if it were the lids of his eyes that were suppressing the millions of thoughts from escaping his clouded mind.
They were here for her family. And as much as he wanted to, there was no place for him to hang around and be about them. He remembered the feeling he had when heād lost his parents, and though Natalie and he werenāt exactly the same, he wanted to respect whatever it was she was feeling. But being trapped in a room that belonged to her when she was a young teenager made him feel slightly claustrophobic. Itād been getting worse, actually. And before he knew it, he was sifting through the books she had in the corner of her bedroom. Every book placed neatly against the separate shelves were titles well known, especially by the man over looking them.
So when Leviās eyes scanned passed the faded titles and to an untitled, worn out bind, his curiosity got the best of him. First thing to come to mind was that the paperback fold must have been lost, or thrown out, and that the book was another best seller. However, as soon as he turned the cover, he realized heād gotten ahold of Natalieās diary.
It must have been an hour. Deep inside of him, Levi knew this was wrong- that this was some sort of invasion of privacy. The lawyer in him immediately told him to return it, to not even read the first page. But the concerned, soon to be father wanted to continue. There was still so much of her he didnāt know ā and her diary would fill in most of the blanks. His vulnerable side had won. Because at this point, he felt his hands grip the covers ā out of sadness, out of anger.
Swallowing hard, he hadnāt even heard the steps outside of Natalieās door, didnāt hear the usual loud creak of its hinges. He remained standing over her desk, flipping through the pages, the tips of his fingers tracing the every line. He was lost, completely immersed, completely gone and consumed in the stories the frail diary kept in his hands.
yousharknotpass
jacobvanloon
tangentwithtanner
