It’s Sunday morning. In spite of not having to go to work today and, consequently, not obligated to wake up early, I do; and in a hurry. My internal clock now ticks in an adult’s life rhythm. I pull aside the sheets and dive into a quick morning shower. Hold on – something’s not right here. When exactly did my hair become so short and surprisingly blonde? Oh well, my hairdresser must have cut it shorter than I asked him to; it’s so typical of him.
But wait a minute, it’s not only the hair thing. My stomach is beyond bloated; it appears as if it is going to erupt any second now. Beholding the side view of my body in the now covered of steam bathroom mirror, I conclude that I may have overdone it, that maybe it’s time that I shut that big mouth of mine, and perhaps cut down on my Malteser’s addiction.
As I tie my bath robe into a tight bow and tie my hair into a towel, I walk outside the bathroom, only to find myself in a peculiar, unknown hallway. What a strange morning indeed – nothing seems to be right. Last time I checked, my parents’ home was not decorated in black and white; and most significantly, it was not an apartment but rather an actual house. Where the heck am I then?
Pacing towards the end of the corridor, I observe the details of the new room I am in – the paintings, the sofas; I even take time to appreciate the vanilla scented air-freshener the fills up the space. This isn’t just any common apartment, this is my dream home. For if I ever was to get out of my parents’ home and live independently on my own, I would have an apartment exactly like this one; nothing more, nothing less.
“Holy shit…” I whisper as I lift that photo frame and immediately put it back in utter shock. I am honestly torn in deciding of what had shocked me most. The fact that it was me in that photo frame and therefore this apartment must be mine or the fact that I’m wearing a gold plated wedding band on the ring finger of my right hand.
Biting my lip and simultaneously pinching myself hard in an attempt to wake up from this dream I am currently in, I pause because it’s too much pain to handle. Still doubtful, I hold my forehead to check my temperature. Unconsciously, I find my direction towards the kitchen where I am about to make another discovery. Burned out candles by the dining table in combination with the existence of two plates, two cutlery sets and two glasses in the sink; they hit me hard with the realization that most likely I don’t live alone in this place.
The mere thought that I am possibly in a relationship with someone, makes me shut my mouth with both my hands. Without another word coming out of my mouth, I run to the bedroom and crack that door open, only to come across to the view of a broad male back sleeping peacefully next to my side of the bed. Known for being a late morning person, it does take me quite some time to fully wake up. I’m not exaggerating when I say that my brain begins functioning properly after having that fifth sip of coffee. Thus, it is quite rational that I didn’t notice him when I woke this morning. Who is he anyway?
Oh, God no! I’d recognize those lips anywhere, even if I was fucking blind. And suddenly my heart’s racing so quickly I’m legitimately believe I’m having a heart attack. I’m married to him? I knew it! I knew that it was him. I could sense it every time we were together; that he was the one. So my instinct was right after all – he was worth the wait. Just look at him, how quietly he sleeps. My hands cuddling his cheek, my fingers running through his hair – he slowly opens up his eyes and looks straight into mine. With a soothing voice he asks if I had any morning sickness again.
“Come and lay down with me.” He orders me next with a grin and makes space for me.
That explains that bloated stomach alright. I am pregnant with his baby. He is my husband and I am his wife. He is mine and I am his – forever. And we live together in a place, just like I have always pictured it to be. It’s Sunday and he is my Sunday kind of love. Soon, we will get out of bed and we will have breakfast together, just like I have always pictured us to do.
Eventually, everything had fallen into place. What a fool I had been for worrying, constantly sick to my stomach back in then. Everything I had been through, I was meant to go through it, in order to be exactly here where I am today. It was a perfectly designed plan with the utter purpose of testing my patience just to see if I was worth having everything I have today. I suppose great things do take ages to happen.
But here’s the thing – they are totally worth the wait. All I had to do was to speak it, believe it and I received it when the time was right and I was truly ready for it.
“So where do you see yourself in five years’ time?” The man asks in a calm voice and slowly I open my eyes to the present. I am here, where I am supposed to be; back in my bedroom in my parents’ house. Shaken by the encounter with the future, I breathe hastily at the possibility that everything is possible. As long as I am alive and I am able to listen to sound of heartbeat and breath, everything is possible.
Author: Marianna Ioannou
Leave a comment!