AHHHH!! Goody!!! Can I please request two? Both silvers, if you will! If you only have time for one, it can be your choice :)
This was so much fun! Thank you for the request! It’s a little shite at the end. I am doing the angsty silver first (go figure!). And I'll do the silver as a companion to this one :)
#28, silver: harm that comes with desire, deceive, insincerity
The shushing of her book’s page as Cora flipped to the next chapter scraped against Robert’s thoughts, causing him to cringe in his seat. He took a large sip of his brandy, the glass only moments ago half full, now near empty and he looked through the beveled glass at the flames in the hearth. They crackled and snapped, the heat aggressive and drawing a bead of sweat to his brow.
Or maybe it was the drink.
Either way, he was uncomfortably hot, and the temperature exacerbated his darkening mood. They were alone after dinner, for the second night in a row, and the quiet that came from their lack of conversation set him on edge, more than the turning of the blasted pages of Cora’s novel. Instead of helping him find the words to say to his wife, the brandy tainted her silence, it twisted her intent, it taunted him into a deeper jealousy.
Though what he had to be jealous of, he wasn’t quite sure.
It was clear she was avoiding him as much as he was avoiding her, and while he knew the cause of his behavior, he hadn’t the first clue about hers. The uncertainty that grated on him, it wore down his resolve to make things right, as he had said they were. He felt useless once more. Worse than useless; impotent in the face of his wife’s indifference.
For that is what she seemed to him.
Robert drained the remainder of his glass, the liquid going down like fire and he grimaced. He was full of brandy, to the point Robert’s lips started to numb, and yet he felt empty. His thoughts wandered, flashes of the last months, the last years, imprinting on his mind, each one dragging him deeper into the quagmire of his pity. One scene played over and over, above the rest. Her lips on his lips. Her head in his palm. The tickle of her bonnet thrilling him to the bottom of his desire.
The memory brought with it the taste of bile.
Robert’s eyes darted across the room and he met Cora’s blue irises staring at him. How long she had held him in her attention, he did not know. Robert wanted to look away but his eyes remained fixed on her face, the open sadness creasing her features, something he had missed all these weeks, along with the hollowed remnants of her illness. Under his continued watch, Cora lowered her gaze and pulled the wool blanket draping her shoulders tighter around herself.
“Are you cold?” Robert’s voice seemed odd to his own ears, rougher than he intended.
Cora shook her head. “Not really,” she answered, though a tremor punctuated her words.
The fog of alcohol slowly dissipated and Robert saw the room sharply. He saw his wife, for the first time in a long while. He stood from where he sat and crossed the room the sofa Cora was tucked into. Her head rose at his movement, and a spark of hope twinkled in the corners of her tired eyes. Robert fought himself to not flee. Clenching his jaw, he accepted what he needed to do. The wedge between them had a name. He needed to say it, he needed to tell her; his need was driving him away. He had almost lost her, and yet the secret of his deeds prevented him from fully rejoicing that he hadn’t.
“Oh,” a small gasp road on Cora’s exhale as he sat near her, their knees touching.
Robert looked at her. And what he saw was not his interpretation of her, not his clouded feelings distorting her, it was just Cora. It was a face that held love and warmth and longing, not the contempt or the embarrassment or the pity his eyes thought they saw throughout the long years of the war. Robert’s resolve trembled. All he wanted was to be on the other side of this.
“What is it, Robert?” Cora whispered, and her voice was naked of all judgment, it ached with need, and his heart ached with the same want.
His words tumbled out like sickness, his deed something that had to be purged before they could heal. He knew he couldn't live with it between them, hanging over them, waiting to reveal itself. It had to be said, and Robert prayed Cora's love would guide them forward, as it had so many times.
“I have a confession, and I hope you will forgive me…”
