One Wild Night

Mia lingered by the door, her thoughts swirling in her mind, unsure of how to broach the subject that had been weighing heavily on her heart since she had told Jeff that they could talk about everything later.

"Goodnight, Mia," Jeff said softly, breaking the silence as he moved to head to his room.

Mia hesitated for a moment before stopping him. "Wait, Jeff. Can we talk?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jeff turned back, concern etched on his face. "Is everything okay?" he asked, his tone filled with genuine worry.

Mia nodded slowly. "I just... I think we should talk now," she said, her voice wavering slightly.

"We don't have to talk about it right now. It's past midnight…."

"I'd rather talk about it now and get it over with," Mia said and Jeff studied her for a moment before sighing resignedly.

Although he was exhausted and wished it could wait, he was also curious to hear what she had to say.

"Alright, give me a moment to get a glass of water," he said as he headed for the kitchen.

Mia took a deep breath as she watched him walk away, and she tried to organize all she had to say to him.

Deciding that she needed a glass of water too, Mia went after him, her heart pounding in her chest.

Jeff, who had poured some water into two glasses and had just finished drinking his, looked at her when she walked in and handed one of the glasses to her.

Her hand trembled ever so slightly as she took the glass from him, but Jeff noticed and said nothing as they both went to sit at the dining.

Jeff sat across from her, his expression calm and attentive as he watched her sip from her glass of water.

"What did you want to talk about?" Jeff asked, his voice gentle.

Mia took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "I... I've been thinking a lot about what you said earlier, about how you don't need a reason to be supportive of me. And... I realize that I've been pushing you away despite all your attempts to show me that you care, and I don't want to do that anymore," she said, her voice filled with emotion.

The tremor in Mia's voice was barely a whisper, yet it crackled with raw honesty, slicing through the room like a fragile shard of glass. Each word she uttered was a confession, a tear in the carefully constructed facade she'd worn for so long.

"I've never had anyone… truly care," she choked out, the words catching in her throat like a sob. Her eyes, usually veiled with a practiced indifference, welled up, mirroring the storm brewing within.

Jeff said nothing as he watched her, and listened to her speak, since he could tell that she wasn't done yet.

Unable to sit still, Mia rose from her seat, "I've never been able to rely on anyone, so it's sort of a new experience for me. Usually when I'm asked how I'm doing, the only response expected from me is a positive one, regardless of how I am feeling. I could be bleeding to death, but all that would be expected from me is a smile on my face and a simple I'm fine."

The words tumbled out of Mia like a dam bursting. Each syllable held the weight of years spent carrying silent burdens, masking wounds with practiced smiles. Her voice, usually guarded, cracked with every sentence, raw and exposed. Tears threatened to spill, shimmering on the edge of her lashes like unshed rain as she let herself remember all the times she had actually been bleeding inside and had wanted someone to ask how she was doing and mean it but no one, not even her parents had bothered enough to look past the fake smiles. They had in fact expected her to wear a smile regardless of how she was feeling.

"I've always kept to myself. I've always tried to maintain an emotional distance from everyone believing that no one truly cares, but being here and having you all care about me this way… It's a new experience. It's strange and overwhelming." she admitted, her voice barely audible.

"It's… scary, opening myself up, letting someone in. This feeling of being seen, of being cared for... It's unfamiliar, terrifying even, but it's also... beautiful, and for the first time, I don't want to be alone anymore. I don't want to fight alone or run. I want to believe that maybe, just maybe, care isn't just a mirage, that connection is possible. I want to believe that I truly have people who care about me and are willing to stand by me," she said as tears spilled down her cheeks, each one a testament to the dam finally breaking.

The pain, though raw and agonizing, was laced with a newfound vulnerability, a tentative step towards connection.

Jeff listened quietly, his eyes never leaving her face. "Mia, you should believe it. I'm here for you, no matter what. I care about you, and I want to help you through whatever you're going through," he said, his words sincere.

Mia nodded, unable to say anything past the lump in her throat. She had thought about it and even though Jeff wasn't the type to pry or ask too many questions, he had shown her on different occasions that he cared about her, and as such he deserved to know her.

"You can ask me whatever you want to know about me," Mia offered after a short moment of silence since she knew he had questions.

Jeff met her gaze, the raw emotion in her eyes etching itself onto his memory. He could ask about her family, her dreams, the pain etched on her scars, but something held him back. Instead, he chose a question that had gnawed at him since they moved in together and he noticed her lifestyle.

"Why the endless string of blind dates? Why spend your nights with strangers?" He asked, and although his words were blunt, they held no judgment.

His gaze held a genuine curiosity, seeking to understand the woman beneath the guarded exterior.

Mia looked at him, surprised by the unexpected question. She had expected him to ask about the scars, or about whatever Tyler had told him, not about how she spent her nights.

"It's not always like that," she clarified as she sat back down, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't go home with them. And most times I hang out at the club. It's just..." She paused, searching for the right words. "I find it hard to sleep at night. I always have nightmares, so it's usually easier to fall asleep after getting wasted."

"So you just hangout with random men and don't go home with them? Just to kill time?" He asked and she nodded.

Silence bloomed again, thicker this time, heavier with unspoken truths. Jeff's brows furrowed, concern etching lines on his forehead.

"What about sleeping pills?" he asked gently.

Mia shook her head, "Not for the nightmares."

The weight of her confession settled between them and Jeff reached out, his hand hovering hesitantly over hers. Mia met his touch, her fingers intertwining with his, seeking solace in the warmth.

"Is that why you I hear you crying most times at night?" He asked, and she nodded.

"You've never gone home with any of those men? What about the occasions you didn't come back home?" He asked softly.

"How can you expect me to be intimate with anyone? You saw the hideous scars. What man in his right senses would desire me when they see those scars?" She asked as she pulled her hand away, retreating into herself.

Shame burned in her chest, a familiar heat that threatened to consume her, as she looked away from him, waiting for his reaction.

"Maybe that was the point of those scars. To make sure I'm never able to be with anyone else if ever I escaped. So, to answer your question, no. I didn't go home with anyone. I spent those nights at the club because I realized that the noise and music drowns out my fear."

The despair in her voice hung heavy in the air. Jeff saw the pain in her eyes, the fear of rejection, of being seen as broken, flawed. He knew then that he couldn't offer platitudes, empty promises. He needed to understand, to see her scars not as flaws, but as a testament to her strength, her resilience.

He reached for her hand again, this time meeting her gaze head-on. "Mia," he said, his voice firm yet gentle, "show me your scars."

Mia recoiled, a gasp escaping her lips. "No, you don't understand-"

"Please," he persisted, his eyes filled with an unwavering sincerity. "Let me see them, not as a burden, but as a part of you, a story you deserve to tell."

Mia shook her head. Even though Jeff had caught a glimpse of it earlier that day, the thought of letting him see it all filled her with horror.

"I don't think seeing your scars would change the way I see you or what I think about you. Your scars don't define you, Mia. They tell a part of your story, but they are not you. Let me see it," Jeff pressed.

Mia hesitated, her heart hammering against her ribs. But something in Jeff's gaze, a flicker of understanding, a hint of acceptance, gave her the courage to nod.

Slowly, she rose and turned her back to him, and Jeff rose as well to stand behind her.

She lifted her hair and Jeff reached for the zipper of her dress and she stiffened, her breath catching in her throat as Jeff undid her zip, exposing the hidden map of her past.

The silence that followed wasn't one of shock or pity, but of quiet respect.

"Can I touch them?" Jeff asked softly and Mia shut her eyes as she gave him a nod.

She knew that by doing this they were both crossing a line in their relationship. If she could reveal her scars to him and let him touch them, then there was no way she could keep anything else from him, since her scars were her biggest secrets.

Although Mia couldn't see Jeff's face, she felt the tenderness in his touch as he traced her scars with his finger.

Tears streamed down her face and she trembled as Jeff came to stand in front of her, his eyes filled with an emotion she couldn't quite decipher.

"They're beautiful," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "They tell a story of strength, of survival. And you, Mia, you are beautiful too, scars and all. And any man in his right senses would find you desirable in spite of your beautiful scars, of which I'm not an exception," Jeff said softly, as he brushed her tears away.

Although Jeff wanted to ask her about each of the scars and about how she ended up being married to such an animal, he knew that he would get those answers in time. For now, all he wanted was to offer comfort.