Hurt His Sentiments

Navigating the heavily scented living room, I strode purposefully toward him, encircling him within the wire-like embrace of my arms. It took him a moment to reciprocate my warm welcome, finally wrapping his arms around me. However, tonight was different.
The familiar warmth I usually felt when enveloped by his embrace was absent. It puzzled me, leaving me struggling to comprehend the change. Perhaps he was taken aback by my unexpected appearance in this adorned living room, or maybe it was the lingering fragrance that had greeted him before my arrival that caused the shift in his demeanor.
Swiftly dispelling these budding doubts, I withdrew myself from the embrace. "How's the party?" I inquired, attempting to break through the unspoken tension that lingered.
"It's good," he replied, his response lacking the usual enthusiasm that accompanied such occasions.
"Just good?"
"Hmm..." He hummed and ambled toward the kitchen.
"Are you hungry?" I inquired.
He turned around, his tone sharper, "What do you mean? Can't I be hungry? What were you expecting?"
His abrupt words shattered the smile I had worn. "Well, I thought you would've had something at the party."
"No, I hadn't."
"Okay! You sit here; I'll get something for you." I redirected my path towards the kitchen, leaving him on the sofa.
As I prepared and served the food, I observed his face, which seemed lost in some distant thoughts. "Who was that?" I asked, trying to discern the cause of the unease while he mechanically consumed the meal.
"Who?" he responded, momentarily confused.
"You had a fight with," I clarified, attempting to understand the source of the tension lingering in the air.
"Who told you that?" he retorted, a hint of defensiveness in his tone.
I pondered for a moment, considering the possibility that he might have had an altercation with someone at the event, dampening his mood. "Everything's fine, and I didn't have any scene," he reassured with a forced smile, continuing to eat.
I observed the rhythmic movement of his jaw in the flickering candlelight, accentuating his jawline. Despite the romantic ambiance, my unfulfilled desires lingered as I cleared the table, prepared tea, and he remained engrossed in the TV.
As I served the tea, my suppressed yearnings grew more restless. The fantasies of a romantic encounter played in the recesses of my mind, fueled by my adorned appearance. Frustrated by his apparent obliviousness, I questioned whether he was intentionally neglecting my advances.
Seating myself next to him, I took his hand, wrapping his arm around me. "You seem angry," I ventured, attempting to break through his distracted state. His eyes remained fixed on the TV screen, his thumb circling the power button on the remote.
"What's troubling you?" I finally inquired, my fingers delicately tracing his perfectly shaped jawline, illuminated by the flickering candlelight.
"Nothing. I've told you. Stop worrying and nagging me with your typical wifey questions," he responded sharply, his words a coarse dismissal.
For a moment, I felt a pang of humiliation, but then a realization hit me—I was his partner. Remembering the rules for keeping a partner happy, gleaned from recent readings on relationship counseling and tips for success, I decided to take a different approach.
Grabbing his collar, I pulled him closer. "Am I nagging you, eh?" I raised an eyebrow in question. He jerked away, and a palpable sense of difference lingered in the air, hitting harder this time.
This wasn't the Carl I had known in the past few months. Everything about him—the way he spoke to me, treated me, and even looked at me—felt different, and he seemed distant. It was unfamiliar, new, and unplanned for me.
"What's wrong?" I pressed, seeking an explanation for the abrupt shift in his demeanor.
"Nothing."
"No, tell me," I insisted, seeking an explanation for the palpable tension in the air.
He turned his head, and his gaze, filled with torment, met mine. A wave of fear surged through me; he had never looked at me like this before. The doubts that lingered became transparent, and the stark difference in his demeanor was now glaringly evident.
The Dillon before me was not the same as the one who left in the morning. The walls of the once cozy, dimly lit living room, adorned with the warm glow of candles, seemed to constrict around me. I felt myself being crushed between them.
As his eyes flashed with an intense fire, a cold gust of air extinguished the burning candles, plunging the room into darkness. I was left alone in the abyss, feeling the world collapse around me.
The once familiar surroundings turned into a place with no sanctuary. I felt homeless, devastated. I became an evacuee with no refuge to seek. He had torn away the roof above my head and the ground beneath my feet.
Like a fragile jar of glass, I shattered into thousands of tiny, irreparable pieces.
"What do you want to know?" he roared.
For a moment, I struggled to find the words, but summoning the courage from the deepest core of myself, I spoke, "What's wrong with you? You're behaving strangely, pococurante."
As the words left my mouth, I observed his eyes fixed on me. His face underwent a rapid succession of expressions, his mood shifting. Then, I saw the blazing fire in his eyes turn cold, as if my words had rained over them, extinguishing the heat.
He didn't say anything, instead, he buried his head in his hands. I heard the muffled sobs, yet his indifferent behavior had shaken me so profoundly that I couldn't find it within myself to console him.
It was a painful experience to witness him weeping like this, his face obscured by his hands, his entire body trembling. Eventually, I reached out to him, gently rubbing his back in an attempt to soothe his sobs.
But it didn't work. I felt helpless, unsure of what I could do to stem the flow of tears streaming from his eyes. I cursed myself for causing him pain. Perhaps he was burdened with tension for reasons unknown, and given time, he might have shared his troubles with me. I shouldn't have hurt him with my words, especially not tonight, when I had planned for a beautiful and passionate evening with him, breaking all the rules.
It became apparent that things were not in our favor, and I acknowledged this realization. "Please forgive me. I never meant to hurt you, Honey!" I gently peeled his hands away from his face, cupping it in mine.
"I am so-rr-y," I whispered, letting the words hang in the air before placing a tender kiss on his lips. All his sorrows became mine, and I couldn't bear to see him suffer alone, little realizing that I was the one who would end up enduring the pain alone.