Hope

I still didn't know how I'd managed to live through my 31-day post-Killian syndrome but for the past four weeks, everything hurt.

Fast forward to two weeks back when I had decided to move out of my mum's house.

I tried not to be bitter about how easily she had forgiven Killian and asked me to go back to him. I couldn't blame her for it. She'd always been conversational and believed a woman ought to remain with her husband at all times.

I wondered if that ideology would've changed if I had explained to her how he'd slapped my bottom so hard and wicked that they were sore for weeks.

God, I should hate him, but the truth was, I didn't. I couldn't, not with the way he occupied my thoughts.

I couldn't even escape him in my dreams. Torturous memories flashed through my mind every night and it didn't help that I'd forgotten my vibrators back at his place.

Nonetheless, I knew I still loved him more than he was capable of ever loving me back and a lopsided relationship would destroy me, not to mention set a terrible example for my child, and I knew I didn't have much to offer it yet but if there was one thing I was sure it wasn't going to lack, it was the love I had to give.

With that in mind, I willed all anxious thoughts of Killian Fobster away and tried to focus simply on my life.

I didn't need him.

I didn't need anyone.

I only needed my own two hands.

I was very good at withstanding difficulties and I'd spent the last week setting up a new independent life. I found a place near where I worked that offered month-long leases and signed the contract. I went shopping for apartment supplies with Lesley and before I knew it, I was living in my apartment.

A knock sounded on the door of my apartment door just when I stepped out of the kitchen with my microwaved piece of pizza.

I got this intense urge to snap a photo of it and send it to Killian. It would piss him off and I would take wicked pleasure in knowing he couldn't do anything about it.

The knock sounded again and I dropped the plate down on my coffee table.

Who the hell was that?

I walked to the door. Unfortunately, it didn't have a peeping hole.

"Who's it?"

"Delivery for Mrs. Fobster."

My heart skipped. No one in this area knew my last name.

I opened the door quickly, finding a young man holding a large cardboard box.

"Please sign here."

I gave him a double-take before signing for the package and taking it inside. The box was huge and surprisingly light. When I plopped down on the couch, I opened it, shocked to find a dress and a new pair of shoes sitting Inside.

What the-

My hands rampaged the box for a card of sorts and when I finally found it, I was a little relieved to find that it wasn't from Killian because I wouldn't have known how to react.

Wear this to the charity raiser tomorrow. I cannot wait to see you again. Don't be late!

Signed, Mary Fobster.

How did she know my dress and shoe sizes?

How did she know where I lived?

The hollow in my chest expanded as I placed the card back inside the box and closed it. I wasn't sure if I wanted to attend, especially because I was sure Killian was going to be there.

I didn't think I was ready to see him. I didn't think I could bear it. I closed my eyes and groaned.

Why did real life have to be so complicated?

KILLIAN

The swelling in my skull pushed me out of my lucid nightmare and back onto the reality that I was still wrapped in Hope's sheets with a beating like a fucked clock.

I sat up and swung my feet to the floor, surprised to see that I only wore one sock to bed.

Scrubbing my hand over my face, I forced myself out of bed but ended up staggering sideways as the room spun.

Shit.

I quickly reached out for the wall but my hand slipped and I sprawled onto the floor with a crashing thump. Fuck. A piece from the broken vase pricked my hand, instantly drawing my attention to the mess I'd made last night.

It was going to take days to clean it up.

The room swirled before becoming stationary again and I used the bed to pull myself to standing.

After a few seconds of waiting for my swirling eyesight to become focused, I splayed my hand on the wall and guided myself out of the room, through the hallway, and into my room.

I immediately walked to the drawer and pulled out the bottle of ibuprofen. I popped the lid off and shook some pills into my hand. One, two, three, four- I was overdosing but I didn't care. I already felt like death; like something spit out by a frog, a frog other frogs were ashamed of.

I popped it into my mouth and walked into the bathroom. The splash of cold water on my face felt refreshing and instantly wished I could wash my brain free of the toxins too. The mirror showed my eyes, a lattice of red over the white. How long had it been since I shaved? I couldn't remember. The past days were chaos in my mind.

After brushing my teeth and showering, I leaned against my wardrobe for support as I searched for casual shorts since I planned to stay indoors all day.

Just as I finished putting on my pants, I heard the doorbell go off downstairs and then a voice accompanying the opening door.

"Killian, why isn't your door locked?!"

Mother. Fuck. I'd totally forgotten about her arrival. I hurried down the stairs and met her staring disapprovingly at the splayed-over empty bottle of whiskey.

"Is this the reason why you haven't been taking my calls?" She scowled, no doubt ready to scold the living hell out of me, but when she turned and her face met mine, her eyes widened.

I knew that look. It was the same one she'd given me the day I came home with a bruised face after a fight.

"Oh my," she released a gasp, dropping her bag on the couch and rushing to me. "My poor baby. What happened to you?"

Her warm hands grabbed my face and she turned it from side to side, assessing it.

I pulled her hands away. "I'm fine."

She frowned and stuck both hands on my face again. "No, you're not. Look at you. I haven't seen you this pale since your mother died."

"I said I'm fine," I gruffed and pushed her hand away. "You didn't have to come here." I walked towards the bar, reached for another bottle of whiskey, and I'd successfully poured myself a glass but she came up in front of me and seized it before it reached my mouth.

"I don't know what's gotten into you but you need to pick yourself up. Look at you." She raised my arm and shook it. "You look sickly. You haven't shaved and you look like you're going to pass out any moment."

I expelled a heavy breath and pulled my arm away. "I'm not sick, I've had a rough week."

She purses her lip and pinned me with a sympathetic look. "Is this how you plan to get your wife back? By looking like a cancer patient?"

I clenched my fist against the surge of unwelcome feelings. I didn't want to have this conversation.

"Hope doesn't want me anymore."

She waved my comment away with her hand. "It's clear as day that Hope is passionate about you."

A month ago, maybe but not anymore.

"She's not. She told me she doesn't love me anymore."

"And what? You just gave up?"

I sighed. "I don't know what else to do."

A moment of silence ensued, only broken by the slap she ringed across my arm.

I hissed. "Mother!"

Her eyes narrowed in a ball-shriveling stare. "There's always something to do. Now since both of you refused to tell me what actually happened, I can only do little. But you can do much more. It's your pride that is getting in your way." She scoffed. "You're too proud, just like your father."

"I am nothing like my father." My fist clenched as I suppressed a growl. "I'd never do what he did. I'd never abandon my woman."

She gave me a long stare before shaking her head. "What do you think you're doing now? You've given up. That's already abandoning your woman. Killian." She held my hand and squeezed. "When you love someone, you fight for them with all you've got. You don't just give up. You might think your father has no heart but every day, he regrets leaving your mother. Don't let that be your own regret." She let me go and slapped my arm again.

"Ow! What the hell was that for!?"

"The two Fobster men are such handfuls." She tsked and eyed me down with dissatisfaction. "I invited Hope for the charity event today, I expect to see you both there and trying to work this out because I will not have my grandchild stuck between your messes." She huffed a breath and began to stride towards the kitchen.