His Knees, His Pleas, But Our Son's in Peace

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The sound of police sirens cut through the air. I could hear them getting closer, their lights flashing in the distance. I didn't move from my spot by the window as theText content © NôvelDrama.Org.

police arrived, guns drawn. They approached Nathan cautiously, assessing

the scene. The rogues, battered and

bruised, were being handcuffed and

dragged away one by one.

Nathan reached the front steps and

knocked, his hand still trembling from the

fight.

I hesitated for a moment before opening the door. Nathan stood there, bloodied, bruised, and holding the bouquet like it was some sort of peace offering. His eyes flickered to the toys scattered across the floor inside the house. They belonged to

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Oliver. The sight of them seemed to stir something in Nathan, a brief flash of guilt crossing his face.

"-" He started, then stopped. He cleared his throat, trying again. "Doris, I'm sorry. I've been a fool. I know I messed up, and I want to make things right."

I didn't say anything, just stood there, staring at him blankly. My silence seemed to make him more desperate.

"I brought these for you," he said, lifting the roses. "I know how much you love

them."

I raised an eyebrow, the coldness in my voice unmistakable. "I'm allergic to roses.

Nathan blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"Sienna told you I loved roses, didn't she?"

I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

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Nathan stammered, his confusion

growing. "Yeah, she-she said you loved them. I thought-"

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head.

"Of course she did.

remembered the day Sienna had brought me flowers when I was pregnant. I'd been

allergic, and the roses had made me break

out in hives, my skin itching so badly I

couldn't stop scratching. Nathan hadn't believed me back then, accusing me of

using some new cosmetic that had caused

the reaction. He had sided with Sienna, as

always.

Nathan's face fell as he realized his

mistake. "I-I didn't know," he whispered.

"Of course you didn't." My voice was flat,

emotionless. "You never listened. You always believed whatever Sienna told you. You've never known me, Nathan. Not

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really,"

His hand tightened around the boNqNet, his knuckles white. "I'm sorry, Doris, I

really am. I didn't mean to

"Leave," I interrupted, my voice hard as

steel. "Get out of my house, Nathan, Or FI

call the police again."

Nathan's eyes widened, panic setting in

"Doris, please"

"I said leave,"

I

He stood there for a moment longer, as if

hoping I would change my mind. But when

I didn't move, didn't soften, he finally

turned away, the bouquet of roses still

clutched in his hand. I watched as he

walked back down the steps, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

As soon as he was gone, I closed the door

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His Kavees, His Pleas, By Ow SONS IN PEACE

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Dand leaned against it, the weight of the

evening pressing down on me. The house was a mess, toys scattered everywhere,

urniture broken, the remnants of the

ght lingering in the air,

But for the first time in a long time, I felt nothing. No anger, no sadness, no regret.

Just indifference.

I stood there, staring at Nathan as he lingered in my yard, looking lost, broken, and bleeding. The sight of him disgusted me more than anything. He was clutching that stupid bouquet of roses like it was supposed to mean something, like it could

erase everything that had happened.

Roses, of all things. He still didn't get it. He

never had.

I

I could feel the heat rising in my chest as I looked down at the flowers. Red roses.

Sienna must've told him I liked them. I

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hadn't liked roses in years-not since the last time Sienna had come around with a

I was

bouquet of f them, back when I w

pregnant. I remember how itchy my skin had gotten, the way my eyes had watered until I could barely see. Nathan had

blamed it on me, of course. Said it was because of some cosmetics I had used, not the flowers I was clearly allergic to.

I tossed the bouquet into the trash bin by the door, slamming the lid down harder

than I needed to. The sound echoed

through the quiet night air, cutting

through the tension that hung between us. I glanced back at Nathan. He still hadn't moved, standing there like he was waiting for me to say something, to take him back. "Nathan, leave," I said, my voice cold, but

steady. I was done. "Go home."

He didn't move. His eyes, dark and full of guilt, flickered to the trash bin where the

His Knees, His Pleas, But Our Son's in Peace,

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roses lay. For a second, I thought he might say something-an apology, maybe-but no words came. Just silence, heavy and suffocating.

"I'm not leaving," he finally whispered, his voice hoarse. "I'm staying right here, Doris. Please, just let me talk."

I crossed my arms, feeling the frustration

talk about? You didn't listen then, and

boiling inside me. "Talk? What's there to

you're not listening now."

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