Letting go of love [Standalone]

Automatically, as I wake in the morning, my fingers reach for the warmth and comfort of the man I love, Reagan. Instead of brushing against his warmth, my fingers find the bed cold, too cold to have been slept in last night, which means either he slept in his room, which is rare since we slept together, or he had a restless night and stayed awake downstairs. I roll over, spreading out my limbs on the bed and look at the baby bump that is beginning to form, I wonder if it's a he or a she. Will our baby have red hair like me or dark hair like Reagan? I smile, my hands resting on the bulge lovingly. My parents don't know about it yet, we've kept our secret well, but I know that the time we have keeping it a secret is running out. I sit up slowly, stretching my arms above my head, and exult in the feeling of a good stretch.

I take my time getting out of bed, loving the fact that I have nothing of importance to do today other than hang out with my boyfriend, and pad over to my door where my housecoat is hanging from a peg. I slip the warm fabric around myself before deciding to stay in my room for a little bit longer. That's when I notice it, a note sitting on my bedside table. I feel a slight sense of dread as I cross the room and my fingers close over the folded piece of paper. I unfold the note and feel like someone has punched me in the gut. It is a note from Reagan. He has left the district to begin his quest to take down the Capitol. I refuse to believe it, he can't have left me, not now, not when I need him the most. My hands go to my stomach before I read the final few lines.

Be brave Fenna, I know you are strong. Cherish our child and raise him or her to be brave and beautiful and strong like their mother, I love you so much and I hate to have to leave you but it is what I must do to give our child a chance at living a life without fear. I'll always love you my little Fox

Reagan [/size]

Tears fill my eyes, making my vision blurry as I fold the note and put it back on my night table. What if I'm not good enough to be a mother yet? this thought terrifies me more than the possibility of having to go through this alone. What if I can't be a good mother to our child? I let the tears flow over my cheeks as I let myself fall back into bed. It feels so cold without him, like a part of me is missing, as if he took a piece of me with him when he left. I bury my face in my pillow and cry like I have never cried before, my entire body shakes.

It takes a few hours for the tears to stop flowing and when they do, I'm so tired I feel like I can barely move. Nobody has bothered me, no doubt my parents are aware that Reagan is gone but I don't care, I just want him back, is it so wrong for me to wish for that? The life inside me seems to react to my sobs and I feel a gentle nudge inside of me. I can't help the small smile that tugs at the corners of my lips, maybe everything will be alright, I'll still have a constant reminder of the brief but passionate love Reagan and I shared.










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