Chapter 2 Scars& Silence

Sandra stirred, her body heavy, her mind foggy. The first thing she noticed was the pounding in her head, a dull ache that matched the weight in her chest. She opened her eyes slowly, squinting against the faint morning light creeping through the curtain.

And then-she saw him.

Joseph.

Lying next to her.

His eyes were open, fixed on her face like he had been watching her sleep, maybe waiting for the right moment to say something.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

Her face tightened. She turned her head away, pulling the sheet slightly over her shoulder. "Stop saying that," she muttered.

He blinked. "What?"

"Stop apologizing," she repeated. "Every time you say it, I remember what you did. And I'm trying not to remember."

There was a thick pause. Joseph sat up, fingers playing nervously with the edge of the pillow. "Then... what if you took revenge?" he asked, like the words made sense in his head.

Sandra froze.

"What?"

"I mean... what if you just, I don't know-slept with someone else too. Maybe it'll balance things-"

"Are you mad?!" she snapped, sitting up sharply. Her voice cracked like thunder in the small room.

Joseph's mouth opened, then closed.

"You think I'd stoop that low?" she continued, her voice rising. "You think I'd give myself to someone else just to get back at you? Like my body is some kind of bargaining chip in your guilty conscience?"

He scrambled, "No, no! That's not what I meant, I swear-"

"Then what did you mean, Joseph?" Her eyes blazed. "We've been together for three months. That might not be long for you, but for me... it meant something. You should know me better than that."

He shrank under her gaze, ashamed. "I'm sorry," he whispered again.

But this time it wasn't enough.

Sandra looked away, shaking her head in disbelief. Her heart throbbed-not just from the pain of betrayal anymore, but from the insult buried in his words. Did he think she was like that? That she would use her own body to play games?

"I just... I didn't know what else to say," he mumbled, voice small.

"Then say nothing," she snapped. "Because that? That was disrespectful."

He nodded quickly, eyes lowered. "I'm sorry."

But the anger didn't fade. It wasn't about revenge. It was about principle. About how little he seemed to understand her, even after everything. She wasn't happy. Not at all.

Not with him.

And not with herself.

She turned away again, lying back down, face to the wall.

....

Few minutes later she went to the bathroom to take a shower

She came out with a towel on her chest.

Joseph stood up and went to her smiling admiring her body

"What " she said with a little smile on her face still not sure if she wants to smile or not

Sandra felt his hands on her waist, his fingers warm, pulling her gently toward him. She stiffened for a moment but didn't pull away. His presence was familiar, but there was something in the air now-something thicker, more fragile.

His lips brushed against her neck, a familiar gesture that had once felt comforting but now seemed weighted with unspoken apologies and regret. "You smell nice now," he said, his voice a soft, teasing attempt at normalcy.

She didn't answer immediately, just gave him a faint smile, the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes. She was still processing, still holding onto the remnants of anger and hurt. But his touch-his closeness-had a way of disarming her, of making the silence between them feel like a wound she wasn't ready to face.

He turned her toward him, his grip firm, his eyes searching hers. "I don't know what else to do, Sandra," he murmured. "I don't know how to fix this."

Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to push him away, wanted to yell at him again, but the sincerity in his eyes-there, buried beneath the guilt-gave her pause.

She was torn. Torn between wanting to hate him, to never let him touch her again, and wanting to feel something-anything-that might make this pain go away.

But instead of pulling away or lashing out, she stood there, her body pressed against his, a contradiction of emotions she couldn't untangle.

"Do you?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Do you really want to fix it? Or do you just want to pretend like this never happened?"

The question hung in the air, heavier than any apology he'd given her. She waited, eyes searching his face for a truth that felt real.

Joseph's gaze lingered on Sandra's face, his expression softer now, almost pleading. "Anything you want, Sandra," he said, his voice steady yet laced with hesitation. "If you want us to forget about it, if you want this to be over, I'm fine with that."

His lips met hers, tentative at first, like a question. Sandra hesitated for just a heartbeat before kissing him back. The familiarity of his touch, the warmth of his body, and the desperation in his movements were undeniable. For a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world again.

But then, as the kiss deepened, everything that had been said, everything that had been left unsaid, seemed to fall away. The apology was there, buried under layers of desire, as if the act itself was meant to erase the fracture between them.

Joseph pulled away briefly, his eyes searching hers. He didn't wait for a response, his hands already moving to guide her back toward the bed. Her towel slipped off, the cool air hitting her skin as she was laid back, exposed, vulnerable. She didn't stop him, though; this was something she needed, something they both seemed to crave.

Her body, soft and elegant, felt like a contradiction to the tension between them. She was a beautiful woman-full of strength, yet in this moment, she allowed herself to be tender, to be with him. Joseph's gaze moved over her, like he was memorizing her all over again. His touch was hesitant at first, like he was afraid of what she might do, but then his hands found their confidence.

She could feel him beside her, his breath warm against her skin as he leaned in. "Don't stop," she whispered, the words almost a plea, her voice trembling with a mix of longing and something deeper, something far more complicated.

Joseph's lips brushed against hers again, this time deeper, more intense. The kiss was raw, filled with something unsaid between them. It wasn't just about physicality-it was about reclaiming something, about trying to bridge the divide that had torn them apart

The air between them was thick with desire and unresolved emotions, a confusing mix of yearning and anger that made every touch feel electric, even painful. Sandra felt herself surrendering, bit by bit, to the pull of his body, the heat of his presence overwhelming. Every kiss was a soft plea, every caress a question she couldn't answer. It was as though the weight of the past was momentarily suspended, and in its place was something wild, something untamed.

Joseph moved with a kind of desperate tenderness, as if he were trying to prove something, to make up for all the times he hadn't been there, all the moments he'd let slip through his fingers. But it wasn't just about that. It was about something deeper-an unspoken need between them, a hunger they couldn't ignore any longer.

Sandra's thoughts spun, but each thought was drowned by the feeling of him against her, in her, pulling her closer, making her forget the anger, the hurt. There was a rawness to it, something that felt almost like healing, like an unspoken apology written in the way their bodies moved together.

In the silence that followed, as they lay tangled in each other's arms, Sandra felt something shift inside of her. It wasn't a feeling of complete resolution-far from it. But it was a sense of connection, of something deeper that had been hidden beneath all the pain. She couldn't deny that it had felt good-too good to ignore, too real to dismiss.

She lay there for a moment, breathing heavily, her body still thrumming with the aftershocks of what they had shared. Joseph's arms were around her, his touch gentle now, as if he were afraid of breaking the fragile peace they had built in the space between them.

For a moment, they said nothing. The world outside seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them in this moment of fragile intimacy. Sandra couldn't help but wonder if it was enough. Was it enough to start again, to rebuild from the ruins of everything they had destroyed?

"Are you okay?" Joseph's voice broke the silence, his words soft, almost tentative.

Sandra didn't immediately answer. She wasn't sure what okay even meant anymore. But in this moment, lying there with him, she felt something she hadn't in a long time-something like hope, even if it was faint, fragile, and unsure.

"Are you okay?" she finally whispered, her voice thick with unspoken emotion.

Joseph's answer came in the form of a kiss-a tender, lingering kiss that didn't speak of finality or closure but of possibility. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Sandra allowed herself to believe in the possibility of something more.