Good and straightforward. No questions, no chattering, no requests for reassurance that all was well. Ari would have been the perfect man for her if only he was capable of loving her—but he wasn't, and she would mourn that for the rest of their time together.
Though she had always prided herself on her directness, she found it difficult to speak the words that she knew she must. I told Elliott's father he exists. It was a simple string of six words that she had no trouble pronouncing, no trouble mentally repeating in her head, yet refused to leave her lips. She could already envision his disappointment, his anger. She'd told another persona bout the circumstances of their marriage—or at least that Ari was not the father, which was practically the same thing—and she had told Ari that they would pretend all was paradise in their home. She could do this. She had to.
No, she couldn't.
"I want another child." The words left her lips too quickly to change her mind, even mid-sentence. More troubling was that it was a complete lie. She had never, ever thought a second child would do them any good, even though they'd convinced more than half of Hogsmeade that they were so very in love. But worst of all, the want of another child—a want that did not exist—came with other implications: the matter of Ari's aversion towards women, infidelity, and the idea that Dionisia had grown more comfortable in her role as a mother. She opened her mouth to explain herself, but the words unhelpfully died on her lips, and she was left staring at him uncomfortably.
Though she had always prided herself on her directness, she found it difficult to speak the words that she knew she must. I told Elliott's father he exists. It was a simple string of six words that she had no trouble pronouncing, no trouble mentally repeating in her head, yet refused to leave her lips. She could already envision his disappointment, his anger. She'd told another persona bout the circumstances of their marriage—or at least that Ari was not the father, which was practically the same thing—and she had told Ari that they would pretend all was paradise in their home. She could do this. She had to.
No, she couldn't.
"I want another child." The words left her lips too quickly to change her mind, even mid-sentence. More troubling was that it was a complete lie. She had never, ever thought a second child would do them any good, even though they'd convinced more than half of Hogsmeade that they were so very in love. But worst of all, the want of another child—a want that did not exist—came with other implications: the matter of Ari's aversion towards women, infidelity, and the idea that Dionisia had grown more comfortable in her role as a mother. She opened her mouth to explain herself, but the words unhelpfully died on her lips, and she was left staring at him uncomfortably.
The following 5 users Like Dionisia Fisk's post:
Aldous Crouch, Ari Fisk, Benedict Sterling, Reuben Crouch, Roberto Devine
Aldous Crouch, Ari Fisk, Benedict Sterling, Reuben Crouch, Roberto Devine
