Page 1 of The Strength Of A Woman

1

LEILANI

The house isquiet as a soft breeze curls around the furniture, unsettling the long drapes and whistling an old song reminiscent of how I once envisioned freedom.

Soft voices blend into a mellow dialogue over the blooming flowers and the shrubs around the house like a quiet call to a laid-back lifestyle.

From time to time, domestic noises interject into the diary of a lazy afternoon.

It must be lunchtime. Maybe later.

I roll to my side and reach for my phone on the nightstand.

The crisp sheets rustle around my legs.They smell like lemon and vanilla.

Sunk in thought, I slide a finger over the screen and check the time.

Twelve thirteen.

I was under the impression that it was later than that.

My hand slides off my phone as I reposition myself for sleep.

On my back, eyes closed, an arm draped over my abdomen, the pleasant scent tickling my nostrils, my thoughts a ball of yarn I have no interest in untangling.

Just listening to the soft sounds of the house, you wouldn’t guess that something bad happened here last night.

You’d think it’s just another day in a beautiful house near the shore of the gemstone-like Mediterranean Sea.

Dolce Far Niente.The sweetness of doing nothing.

A soft exhale crawls up my throat and rolls off my lips like a love bug flying into the sunlight for the first time.

I wish I felt that lightness as the little insect does when it spreads its wings and flies into the unknown, filled with hope.

I wish I knew how to live like that.

Free, unaware, untied, insignificant, and yet so blessed to experience everything without being stopped and shut down.

A minuscule globe of water inches closer to the corner of my eye and breaks free, rolling down my cheek, exhilarated.

It’s earned that.

I’ve earned that.

A tear of regret.

Cloaked in silence, I review what's happened since I spoke last to my grandmother.

No one had followed me into the bedroom to scold me, or worse. Thank God for that.

The party quickly died out as our guests’ voices were steadily trailing toward the exit.

There was no way of knowing whether any of the ‘special’ guests were still in the house. And for sure, I couldn’t tell whether Callum was one of the first to leave or if he lingered behind.

Perhaps, there were other business matters to discuss, issues that had nothing to do with me and my future marriage.

I huff in disgust.