Chapter 97 A distinct type of dream
When Annabel got out of the car, the cool night air pricked her skin. She had a sweet drowsiness that clung to her and her limbs felt heavy.
Fred's hand was there to steady her arm as she staggered a little still half asleep.
“You alright?” he asked
“Yes,” she said in a quiet whisper. “I'm just exhausted.”
As they made their way to the entrance of their building, he continued to place a soft hand on her back.
In addition to the familiar smell of the hallway—a blend of clean air and old brick—the quiet hum of the city was a faraway lullaby.
After a gentle chime, the elevator doors opened and they entered. There was a blanket-like quietness throughout the ascent.
She was already on her way to the couch when the doors opened.
“Annabel,” Fred called.
She sank onto the soft cushions, barely paying attention to his voice. Her bag fell to the ground from her lap.
The last thing she remembered was how nice the couch felt and the rest of the world was a cozy gentle blur.
Fred watched her smiling. She was a study in fatigue, the epitome of a productive day.
With a slight smile still on her lips, her face was calm. The couch's plush fabric brushed his knees as he knelt down and carefully unbuckled her heels straps removing them from her feet.
Then he took her bag and set it down on the side table. His heart was full as he stared at her for a while.
He saw more than just a tired woman, he saw the faint lines of laughter at the corners of her eyes and the soft curve of her lips which always seemed to have a glimmer of a smile even when she was sleeping.
A strand of hair, a deep brown rich strand had fallen across her face and her long dark lashes spread out over her cheeks.
He was deeply moved by her surrender in her tiredness. He wished to record this moment and preserve the tranquil beauty of her sleeping body.
He knelt down and supported her back with one hand while his other found the area beneath her knees with a tenderness he didn't realize he had.
When he lifted her, she felt light and warm against his chest as though she were composed of fragile porcelain.
Her head was on his shoulder as she breathed softly, creating a lullaby for him alone in the silent apartment.
Every stride he took was a silent pledge, his body tuned to hers. Her presence and the quiet intimacy of the moment were shown by the gentle rhythmic puff of air that he felt against his neck with each of her breaths.
Only the gentle touch of his shirt against her cheek and the steady silent rhythm of his own heart could disturb the sacred silence of the apartment.
His footsteps were silent as he ascended the short flight of stairs to her room and a silver pool of light was formed on the floor by the moonlight coming in through a tall window on the landing.
He walked over to her door, pushed it open with his foot and entered. With the curtains drawn and the room dark a glimmer of moonlight illuminated the path leading to the bed.
Despite its simplicity, the room contained the essence of her: a half-finished sketch on an easel in the corner, a bookshelf brimming with well-read books and a framed photo of her and her younger sister grinning on a beach.
His love for all the small flawless details that made her Annabel was overwhelming.
He made his way to the bed, his steps a silent purposeful dance guided by the silver moonlight.
He carefully and slowly lowered her onto the sheets as though he were putting a precious gem in its proper container.
In a tiny act of protection, he tucked the comforter under her chin after pulling it over her and letting the gentle weight fall over her body.
She let out a little drowsy sigh as she stirred.
With a small satisfied smile on her face, she buried herself deeper in the pillows. Taking a chair from her desk, he sat next to the bed and observed her.
His fingers lingered on her smooth skin for a moment before he reached out and pushed a stray hair out of her face.
He observed her chests’ soft rise and fall with a steady reassuring rhythm. Her face which was usually a mask of fierce determination was now a scene of pure peace and her lips were slightly parted.
Her cheekbones lovely curve and the delicate arch of her eyebrows were accentuated by the moonlight’s gentle glow.
He was mesmerized by her effortless beauty which had nothing to do with makeup or expensive clothing and was entirely related to her genuine vulnerability while sleeping.
He felt an intense quiet pull toward her, a yearning that was more than just attraction.
He experienced a deep sense of belonging and a sense that he was in the right place. The hum of the city had vanished and the outside world had vanished as well.
She, this room and this moment were all that existed.
She was glowing softly in the moonlight and her calm demeanor stood in sharp contrast to the fierce resolute individual he knew her to be.
Her serene portrayal, her effortless beauty that was both thrilling and calming drew him in.
His own rhythm, a steady quiet one, was pounded by his heart in his chest. He wished to seize and preserve this moment.
He lowered his head and leaned forward staring at her. Her breath touched his face with its warm gentle air.
He was quite near.
His own heart was pounding. In her reflection, he recognized himself, his face edging toward hers.
He could practically feel the ghostly weight of her lips against his because he was so close.
His desire was to kiss her.
He needed to give her a kiss. His breath caught as he was now just an inch away. He was so near.
He was prepared to express his true feelings to her by kissing her.
Then her eyes fluttered open as he lowered his head even further closing the gap between them.
Her sleepy eyes met his both dark and wide as he froze.
The world stopped for a second when she looked up at him, his face inches from hers.
Their silence echoed like a bell as they were caught in a moment in time.