It was half-past ten o'clock when Alex found himself standing on Norma's porch.
You crossed over a line, and you are never crossing back. I will never trust you again.
Those words have been torturing him ever since. He couldn't stop thinking about the way she stormed off, leaving his staff members more confused than ever.
He couldn't focus on the remaining of the day. He tried, but it was vain. Ever since he met her, his life had revolved around her, and at first, he hated it. But now, nothing had changed, and she continues to be the center of his world.
When it comes to Norman, she can't see clearly. He's known this since the beginning. It was nothing new to him. Alex lost his mother at a young age, but her mother was never a fighter like Norma.
She never did half of the things Norma's done to protect her kid. And deep down, it makes him proud to have a wife so determined, so protective. But he also despises that she continues to bury with her his lies and evil, dangerous behavior.
No one but her believes that Norman is not capable of hurting her. Alex had witnessed the child in distress. In fury. And he didn't care what he had to do to protect her. He's never trusted Norman. Not since Mrs. Watson. And he was not about to grant him his wife on a silver platter for him to hurt and destroy. Over his dead body.
Alex took one last breath before knocking on the wooden door. The house is gloomy, and its current vibe is quite spine-chilling. It looks abandoned and detached from the rest of the world.
He finally knocks. Three times. He had noticed a dim light coming from Norma's bedroom on his way up the stairs. From their bedroom. He was hurt that she hadn't called after their fight. It was their first one as a married couple, and he never meant for things to escalate the way they did. When he tried calling her, it sent him straight to voicemail. He'd phoned the house, but still no luck.
There is no movement inside the house, but he knocks again, a bit louder than before. He feels stupid for standing outside, demanding his place when he had a damn key, and he could easily let himself in.
But he understood that it had to be this way. Norman was inside the house, his house, and Alex suddenly was back to square one. After feeling welcomed in this spooky but cozy home, he suddenly felt like an outsider and hates Norman for making him feel this way.
He squints his eyes as if trying to see through the sheer curtain hanging on the front door.
"Norma!" he calls for her. He doesn't care if Norman hears him. She's his wife, and he needs to talk to her. To see her.
He knocks again. And again. And again.
He wasn't going to give up just yet, but he roamed down the steps of her porch, his eyes darting directly to her room. The dimmed light had been turned off. He smiled to himself, knowing that she knew he was there. She couldn't possibly believe that turning off her bedside lamp would be the end of it, could she?
When he marches back towards the front steps of her porch again, the front door swings open. He comes to stand in front of her, his eyes soft but hopeful. She steps foot on her porch and closes the door behind her, crossing her arms over her chest.
"What?" that tone was back. The one she used with him at his office a couple of hours ago.
"Can we talk? I've been trying to reach you all day," he said in a lighthearted temper.
"I don't want to talk to you. I said what I said, and I don't need to say more. You're pretty clever. I thought you'd be able to catch on by now."
"Catch on?" he asked bewildered. "Norma, this whole thing is just a misunderstanding. Miscommunication, that's all."
"You're right about that. You really thought that bringing Dylan into the mix was going to help? You thought that he would help you prove your point and that you'd get away with everything?"
He sighed. "Get away-get away with everything? What are you talking about?"
She dropped her hands, and they rested at her sides. "You're nothing but a liar. You've always been a liar."
With every word, it's a word that would remain buried forever in the back of his mind. Words that he'd never be able to forget.
"You couldn't wait to get him locked up again, could you? You said that you'd help me get through this! Not go behind my back and make deals with my son! With my son!"
"I wasn't making-Norma, hear me out, please. Try to understand my point of view. Try to put yourself in my shoes. He's dangerous," he said again, and it's what gets to her the most, and he knows that.
"He's not dangerous!" she raised her voice at him. He looked away from her burning, blue orbs. "He could never hurt me!"
If only it was that simple. If only she knew how hesitant her tone of voice is every time she says that Norman is not dangerous.
"No? Do you really think he's not dangerous? Then tell me about that night. About that night you called me, scared as hell, thanking me for what I've done and for what I've been to you. Tell me why you sounded like you were saying goodbye? Tell me why you got him admitted in the first place," he stated with a long sigh, his throat suddenly dry.
But she didn't say a word and continued to look at him.
"Tell me why you went to my house at the crack of dawn to propose to me. Why you used me to get insurance for your son. Tell me now that you don't believe he's dangerous, Norma. Say it. But say it as many times as you want, just enough for you to start believing it."
"That was different!" she shrieked. "He's better now!"
The anger in her eyes was explicit, and his heart was breaking after evert uttered word.
"He's not! He already tried to manipulate me into divorcing you! That doesn't tell you anything? That's not a red flag for you?"
"He's not used to seeing me with anyone," he told him. "It's completely normal for him to want to keep you away from me."
His eyebrows elevate in astonishment. "It's normal for him to want to keep me away from you? I am no scumbag, Norma. I'm not Sam. I'm not Keith or Shelby. I think I've proven my worth over the years. I've proven to him, and to you, that you can trust me. That you can rely on me for anything."
A mirthless laugh leaves her lips, and he starts resenting her approach. How she was trying so hard to pretend that this is just another hit for the books. That this was something that they just do.
She settles her hands on her face, covering her eyes for a quick second before running them up to her messy blonde hair, exasperation evident in her body language.
And then he sees it.
"You'll never understand, Alex. Never. You're not a parent. You don't know what it's like to put your kids first. To choose them over anyone else. Norman will always need my attention. My care. I am not letting him hit rock bottom again. I'm not. And I'm not letting you or anyone else stand in the way of that."
But he had stopped listening to her a long time ago. His eyes lingered on her hand. Her left hand. Her ringless, left hand.
"You-you're not wearing your ring," he suddenly declared, his tone low and damaged. She looks down at her hand as if she didn't know in fact that she's not wearing it. She rapidly hides her hand behind her back.
He looked back at her, and their eyes lingered tortuously for a hot minute. What does this mean? He wants to know, and he wants to know now.
"You never take it off," he offered, knowing this fact. "Not even for bed."
She looked down, not daring to see the betrayal and hurt in his eyes next. She had to do this. She had to rip off the bandage once and for all.
Reaching into the front pocket of her robe, she painfully fished for the ring. For the most beautiful ring she's ever gotten. For the piece of jewelry she couldn't live without after he so lovingly placed it on her finger that morning at City Hall.
"Here," she offered it to him as if it was the typical thing to do as if she was offering him a piece of clothing. Her hand extended casually, still not daring to make eye contact.
"It's your ring," he dared to say. "Why are you giving it back to me? It's yours."
She took a deep breath. "Not anymore."
His eyes had been glued to her the entire time, ever since she reached for it inside her pocket. She hadn't had the nerve to look at him, but he was observing her.
"What are you saying?"
"Take it, Alex."
"Are-are you..." he couldn't say it. "Seriously?
He stepped closer to her absentmindedly, but Norma took a step back. She looked at him this time, her eyes are dark and absent. She's never seen this look on his face. Although, if she thinks about it, she has. It reminded her of the day he came to see her after she had proposed to him, and he had so willingly denied.
Yes, that's where she remembered that look from. When he asked her if she was afraid of being alone with Norman. With her sweet boy. And she was. And he saw right through her although she was brave enough to say no.
And she is afraid that he'll see right through her again. Because that's what he did ever since he asked her about Keith Summers and she blandly denied even seeing the guy. She knew then that he could read her like an opened book, the way no one else could. And it scared her. It terrified her.
"Come on," he begged childishly. "We can get through this. We can talk about it, it's a big misunderstanding. We-we don't have to do this, to get to this—"
"We do," she clears her throat, interrupting him.
"Norma," his tone pleading and fragile, he couldn't believe that she was doing this.
"I'm going to need my key back," she spat.
"Norma..." he tried again with much optimism although his voice was breaking. "Please."
"And thank you for the insurance, but I think I can manage."
He's furious. He knows she doesn't mean it. Any of it.
"I'll find some other way," she said as if he asked what she thinking of doing to obtain that task. "I'll marry again if I have to."
She needs to hurt him. He has to walk away tonight hating her. That's the only way. She doesn't know how she's still standing, speaking as if she meant every word.
But that got his attention.
Walking towards her again, he managed to pin her against the front door. She had nowhere else to go. She couldn't back away. She was trapped.
"Look at me," he said harshly, his right hand had found her jaw and chin, and he forced her blue eyes to meet his.
Then he found indecision in them. Confusion. A dreadful belief. Her eyes were beginning to water and her chin to quiver under his touch. Here he is again. Quickly reading her with no effort.
"You're going to re-marry?" he questioned, looking straight into those eyes. "You're going to let some other man touch you? Kiss you? Make love to you?"
She had whimpered at his words, ready to cry. "Yes!" she managed to blurt out, forcefully removing his hand from her face and walking around him. She cleared her throat again.
"That's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to find someone else. Someone with kids. Someone who understands how important it is to put your kids first before anything... before anyone else."
But he can't believe that she's thinking of doing this. Or even if she's saying it just to get under his skin because it was working. The mere thought of some other man touching her, kissing her; making love to her...
"You can't. You can't, and you won't. Over my dead body."
She closed her eyes at his words. That possessiveness that belonged to her. How angry he sounds at mentioning or thinking about her with another man. She bit her lip to try and hide her smile.
"I swear if I find out that you're seeing someone else..." he sounded enraged but never towards her. She wasn't scared of him. She could never feel afraid of the only man she's ever been able to love. "If you re-marry... I'll kill him myself with my own two hands."
She turned around, looking at him. "Are you hearing yourself?"
"I am," he told her. "Are you? Are you listening to anything that's coming out of your mouth? Are you seriously letting things get to this point, Norma? Divorcing me after two weeks? Really?"
She walked around him again or at least tried to, before his arm reached out, grabbing her by her forearm and bringing her back to him. Her breath hitched, and that was all the proof he needed.
"I'm not going to let that happen, you hear me?" he whispered hotly close to her mouth, her eyes darting back and forth between his caramel eyes and lips. "You're crazy if you think that I'm going to let you go. That I'm going to let some other man run his dirty hands all over you."
"You can't stop that from happening!" she blurted out, still trying to hurt him. "It's my body, and I do whatever the hell I want with it!"
She tried to get away, but he was stronger than her, and he managed to pull her back.
"Yes. It is," he mumbled darkly, and she could feel his hot breath everywhere. Her knees went weak. "It is your body. But it's also mine. You belong to me, and you know it."
He was so right. She belongs entirely to him. She couldn't fool herself and pretend that she can easily replace him. Who would she go to? She had no one in mind, and even if she did, she would never let anyone else put their hands on her. Just like he said, she is his.
"Let go of me," she demanded with a weak voice. A voice that calmed Alex in an instant.
"Stop," he begged her. His hands cupped her cheeks, her eyes darting back to his with that same fervor burning in the interior. Her hands came to rest on both his forearms, her left hand still holding the ring captive and secured.
Her eyes lingered on his lips, and she licked her own.
"Are you done?" he asked, and she misunderstood him.
"Yes! That's what I've been trying to tell you."
"It's not, and you know it," he told her. "I meant if you're done fighting with me. If you're done pretending that you can live without me. That you can get someone to love you like I do."
She looked away again, but he rearranged her face, her eyes back on his. But she dared not to break eye contact this time. She found herself lost in those eyes. In those lost, sad puppy eyes. The type that melts you from the inside out. Her eyes soften, and she sensed when he got closer to her. Closer than he already was.
She pushed her head back, maneuvering out of his hands somehow. She can't show him what her weakness is although she's sure that he knows. She hates how well he knows her. He's her best friend, but she had to remember what was her purpose when she flew down the stairs.
Norma may have forgotten that she was furious with him. That she had told him that she'd never trust him again. That he had crossed over a line. She had to remember this because he was making so easy for her to forget.
"Here is your ring. And I really need back my key," she repeated, this time her voice didn't falter, and her eyes were back to their original color.
But he wasn't budging. She was so eager to leave him? Well, he wasn't.
He shook his head. "No. I don't want the ring, and I'm not giving you back the damn key."
"You want to make this harder on yourself? Fine. It's your choice."
She walks to back towards the handlebar, right next to the few steps on her porch. She located the ring there. If he wasn't taking it, then it was leaving it there. He saw her move close to him and plant the ring on top of the old wood as if it was nothing.
"You're just going to leave it there? Here? Everything that we've been through? Because that ring symbolizes my love, as much as you want to believe in it or not."
No one who loves me would do this to me.
She stopped midway, slowly but surely turning around to face him. But she didn't say anything. Because there wasn't much to say. Things were simple. Norman was back, and they were happy for a short period. But it's clear that they can't share her and she needs to make a decision.
She can't turn away from her son. She can't. Yet, something has to give. And she had chosen her son.
Her entire life was falling apart before her eyes. She couldn't believe that she was giving him up. This man. The love of her life... after everything they've been through. Her hero. Her protector. The person that can make her forget about the rest of the world and have his focus only on her.
The man that makes love to her in a way no one has and never, ever will. Nothing comes close to how she feels when she's with him. This stoic man that had killed for her, that's done whatever in his power to protect her, had become her entire world.
Norma didn't feel the tears sliding down her cheeks until he came closer to wipe them off. His eyes were sad, and so were hers. She doesn't want to do this, but she has to. He's terrified of losing her. She is, too.
But she can't back down. She has to let him go.
I may or may not post a 'part 2' of this clip. ;)