She was scared of me.
My wife was scared of me. It was there in the way her steps faltered when she saw me, how she thought twice before speaking in monotones, how she hesitated to return my hugs, delayed to hold my hand. That carefree lady was gone, the glint in her eyes was slowly dying, as was the affection she had for me.
I missed her.
Nighttime was the only period of sanity we shared. On the bed, with the darkness as our only alibi, we could pretend to be a regular couple, I could cuddle her, touch her growing bump. I tucked my head in the space between her neck and shoulder, she stiffened but relaxed almost immediately and I palmed her belly, traced her belly button. She was carrying our girls and I needed this awkwardness to be gone before the twins graced this earth. I placed a lingering kiss on her shoulder, another one behind her ear.
If she was awake, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. I wasn’t allowed to do a lot of things anymore. We wouldn’t even be in this position, it was too intimate. She didn’t have to outrightly stop me, her eyes did.
I knew when she woke, when she turned in my arms so we were facing each other but I pretended to be asleep. I wanted this moment to last. Her breath fanned my face, she pecked my cheeks, my lips, trailed a path down the middle of my chest and sighed. I forced myself to keep still as her finger traced my lips, prayed for her to kiss me, to touch me like she always did but she pulled away and got out of the bed.
“Why did you have to kill him?” I heard her whisper. She was no longer on the bed but she was close. So close yet so far. “Baby, why?” The pain in her voice hit me, I remained rigid until her footsteps faded.
Why did I have to kill him?
Why did he have to be stupid? Why did he have to be jealous? Why did he have to be my brother?
Tired of pretending, I got up from the bed to sit on the edge with my face buried in my palms. I could feel it, taste the disaster hanging over my head. Bad news was coming and she would be the bearer.
Walking towards the window, I parted the heavy curtains to let in natural sunlight—the only form of light it seemed I would now be getting. My eyes roamed the compound. This house was too big for only one person but Elna made it home. She was my home. Minutes rolled by, my gaze darted to the bathroom door but she didn’t come out. Since the staircase incident, I had gotten extra cautious, I couldn’t afford to lose her due to my carelessness. I waited, counted to ten under my breath yet she didn’t show up.
I knocked on the bathroom door before going in, something I had never done in my life but nothing was the same anymore. Our relationship had deteriorated. We were familiar strangers now, strangers who shared a room, lived and breathed the same air with a perpetual cloud of sadness hovering above them. I noticed her by the mirror, her hair was a mess—a beautiful mess and a ghost of a smile rose to my lips.
With Elna, everything took on a new, more meaningful and beautiful form. Happiness was all around her, a glowing radiance that nothing could block. She had so much joy to give and she didn’t stop giving.
Elna was a kind soul, a gift that continued giving but right now, I could feel that gift slipping from me. I might be the first person she would turn her back on, the only person who might be in her Black Book.
My focus returned to her face, I smothered the urge to scream and bawl my eyes out. Her eyes were bloodshot, she must have been crying. She did that a lot now. But never around me. She hid her tears.
The doctor promised the fall didn’t affect the babies or the mother but he prescribed some drugs and most importantly, bedrest. It would have been the perfect excuse to work from home but home had become her solace and I didn’t want to take that away from her as I had already taken her peace.
Our eyes met in the mirror, her lips parted, she looked away. I managed a grim smile, that was our style now. Water dripped down her face to the valley between her breasts, I bridged the gap between us to stand behind her and she sucked in a sharp breath. On a normal day, I would have showered her with kisses. What was I saying? We wouldn’t have gotten out of bed because we would still be exploring each other’s bodies. With the pregnancy came the raging hormones and mood swings, she was always horny.
El wanted to be touched everyday, everywhere, with my hands, my tongue and I was glad to oblige her.
Her eyes clamped shut when I stretched my hand to pick my toothbrush on the sink, I chuckled sadly at the position of our toothbrush facing each other like a lovely couple, at least some things didn’t change. El must have brushed because a glob of toothpaste stuck to her neck, I reached for it and she began to vibrate. Her limbs trembled violently, her mouth opened but she couldn’t speak. Her chest rose and fell, I took a step back and it all stopped. Like a switch was flipped. I offered her a tight smile, moved aside.
Schooling my face into a neutral expression, I raised the toothbrush to my mouth and she screamed.
Elna screamed.
A cry tore through her lips, her pupils dilated, she stared into space, screaming and screaming.
Tears ran down her cheeks, I snapped out of my shock and grabbed her shoulders, trying to shake her out of her trance but she screamed and cried harder. Without thinking, I swept her off her feet to our room, placing her gently on the bed. It felt like déjà vu but without a doctor’s visit. I pressed the back of my hand to her forehead, her eyelids fluttered open, she blinked sluggishly until her eyes located me.
Raw, intense fear flashed across her face, she sat up so fast I feared for her and the babies. She tried to leave the bed, my instincts kicked in, I pulled her back to straddle her, holding her hands above her head to stay her movements. Stress wasn’t good for her and the baby, constant uncomfortable movements too.
“El, please calm down,” I said. She refused to look at me, tears leaked out of her closed eyelids. “Elna.”
She shook her head when I tried to palm her face, her rejection stung harder than her silence. “Get away from me,” she wheezed out, thrashing under me like I would hurt her. “Please. L...let me go.” My brain registered our position, I stared in horror at my hands clenched around her wrists and released her.
I took my seat on the edge of the bed, away from her. Her ragged breathing evened out, she flinched when I pushed strands of hair away from her wet forehead. My eyes watered, the walls I pushed up to protect myself crashed and burned and I offered her a pained smile. Her fear struck me, I retracted my hand from her face and wrapped it around myself. I would give anything to return to the good, old days.
“You are scared of me,” I said in a voice that managed to hide my pain. Hearing it made it more real, more painful. My chest walls closed in on me, I struggled to breath. “Elna, you are scared of me.” Her silence proved my point. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I knew it now, I knew it for sure that she would leave me but I didn’t want her to. I wanted my wife to stay and love me as I was. “I’m sorry. Wifey, I’m sorry.”
“I can’t.” Her voice broke, she cleared her throat. I knelt on the bed, I would kneel at her feet, anywhere she wanted if it meant her staying with me. “I can’t do it, I can’t stay.” I shook my head, I didn’t want to hear it. She gave me her word. Her eyes closed for a brief second, when they opened, they were filled with pain that tugged at my soul but I willed it away, I didn’t want to be alone again. “Please don’t make me stay.”
“You promised,” I muttered. I held her gaze, recited the words she chanted to me like the Lord’s prayer. “You promised me, Elna.” I placed her hand on my chest, right above my heart that threatened to explode from the pain. “Your beginning, your middle, your end.” Guilt flickered in her eyes, she swallowed and I got out of the bed. I ran my fingers through my face, slid them into my hair and pulled them from the root. Pain seared my scalp, I welcomed it. I could handle this pain, not the one in my chest. I turned to her, eyes shimmering with tears. “You promised.” I choked on a sob. “You can’t leave me. Baby, please.”
Faint giggles pierces through the painful memory, the vision from those days blurs. An acute pain like a knife being twisted in my guts drags me back to the present, my new reality, I suck in a shaky breath, blinking until the haze clears and I remember where I am. What I am doing. What I always do. Stalk her. Hell will be too chill a place for me if she finds out but who will tell her? Not me. I can’t slip up on an act I have had going for nearly five years. I have become a pro at stalking her, a proud one at that. If she wasn’t so stiff, so unresponsive, I wouldn’t have resorted to this. If she had kept to her words and empty promises, we might have worked things out. You are my beginning, my middle, my end. I scoff. Indeed. Your sins are forgivable. You are mine, I will always love you. Right until it was time to prove it. Promises upon promises. All of them, fake and empty. Running a hand over my face, I release my breath sl
The lube in my last drawer comes in handy, I apply a generous amount to my palm and toss the plastic on the table. Rubbing my hands together, I bath my dick with the lube. Warm and slick like El’s core should be with her inside muscles clenching around me while I ride her to orgasmland again and again. So tight. So wet. Always wet for me. Such a turn on. I focus on her legs which she spreads on getting into the bathtub, giving me a view of her dark labia. That clit I want to suck on until she loses her voice from screaming my name in ecstasy. I let out a strangled hiss when her fingers lower to her wet entrance, she makes casual strokes around her vaginal lips and my eyes clamp shut in agony. It should be my fingers. I should be in the bathtub with her, rubbing my dick against her ass, giving her a massage right before I fuck her to a much needed sleep after her long days. Her loan business is doing great but it’s taking a toll on her. I want t
By Friday morning, I am still pissed. A tight ball of fury waiting to explode. So when the driver stops me in front of the mansion gate and the twins are not outside waiting for me, I nearly detonate. It takes a strangled sigh, another look at the rearview mirror where my eyes meet with the driver’s to see how red the tips of my ears have turned. And I drum my foot into the car until the tightness in my chest recedes.Retrieving my phone, I double check to see if the text I sent was delivered. No surprises there. I haven’t made that mistake after that tantrum at her school. But my kids are nowhere near. That familiar anger claws at my jaw, I told her I would be here in two minutes and three minutes have passed without them.Today is the first time I have to step out of the car to get them, when my feet meet the ground, a wave of nostalgia hits me. This used to be my home. Our home. Until I—we, no, she ruined it. She could have f
The car is eerily silent when I join the twins. They huddle close to the door like they are trying to create a gap between us. I glance at the driver, eyes querying him but he only shrugs and I massage my forehead. The point of picking them up with a driver is to avail us enough time together without any distractions. “Hey,” I say and stretch my hand to them. Eyeing my limb warily like it’s not the part of me that carried them a while ago, they shake their heads and look out the window. Their movements are choreographed, the crossing of their arms on their chest and the pouts that take over their lips while ignoring me for a crime I know nothing about. I give the command for the driver to start the car and we glide down the road in silence until I clear my throat. “Bren. Bran.” Her head angles in my direction slowly. “Wyn.” She gives me a thumbs up and I snigger. Where did she learn that? Most importantly, why are they upset with me? It is easie
“Do you like it?” she asks. I scoff, like? No, I love it and I say that out loud with a smile that makes my cheeks ache. It is almost the same as the one their mother gifted me. My first birthday gift without the usual sentiments attached to it, I miss her. The words are the same: Best daddy in the world but with a wink. I turn the mug upside down to get a better look at it and the new addition of my title for them: Daddy’s little girls at the bottom has me grinning sheepishly. I might have bawled my eyes out if they weren’t staring expectantly at me, I force myself to smile. To remind them how much I love them. I don’t understand how I lived without them. We are approaching their school gate when I ask, “How was your week? Did anything fun happen?” With a pointed look at Wyn, I say, “Did you try anything nice again?” She offers her most innocent smile, the shaking of Bren’s head is what truly convinces me of the little experimentalist’s i
She is not picking my calls. Straight to voicemail. Fuck my life. Enzo stops the car a few miles from the gate on my instruction. I haven’t told a lie in a long time but my fingers swipe across the screen and I do exactly what I have sworn never to do. I lie. I lie using my kids so my wife can reply me and she does. El: The girls are fine. I just got off the phone with their class teacher, what do you want? That stings. I stare at the text, hurt. The brusqueness of it all, her dismissal like her world didn’t revolve around me once and my heart squeezes painfully I have to place a hand on my chest. But what right do I have to complain when I shamed her minutes ago? Don’t put your lips on my kids? What I was thinking. They are our kids, she has done a great job of raising them and should be rewarded with praises instead. It’s partially her fault. She provoked me into blurting out those words. There were kids in the house and all she cared about was
El’s statement unleashes a mountain of fury inside me as she had hoped it would. That tiny smirk when she shooed me confirmed her victory. And that lace. She’s wearing lace with a matching thong for a man that is not her husband. Even had the gall to wish me a happy birthday after chasing me with blue balls. I never want to hear those words again, even from the twins. There’s nothing happy about this birthday, about being unwanted by your wife. Or, watching regret flee into her eyes because she kissed you. I shift in my seat while scouring the web for a profile of this T, the scrawny guy I gave little thoughts to. He is not her type. He is nothing like me and I am her type. Yes, he cares, maybe a little too much but no guy stays long in her life. With the twins’ help and my brilliant ideas, it is easy to frustrate them. If they are frustrated enough to leave then they don’t deserve to be in her life. Am I the deserving one? Yes. A page comes up on T. He’s rich, so am
Kids are great until you find them in your kitchen, hair doused in egg yolk and fingers sticking into big bowls of what I hope is flour not sugar. I rush to Wyn before she cracks another egg open, snatching her off the ground and she giggles. Bren looks less of a mess but her hair and body are covered in white as if she bathed in flour. Setting Wyn on the island, I repeat the gesture with Bren, keeping a reasonable gap between them so they don’t have a chance to conspire again. They send each other a look and smile.Standing between them, I grab the edge of the island and ask, “What were you doing?” My gaze darts between Wyn and Bren, I have a feeling all of this started with Wyn and I arch a brow at her. The cutie giggles to reveal her gap tooth, I shake my head. No, not working. “Wyn?” She pouts. Okay, it’s working but she doesn’t have to know that. “Brenwyn?” I point to the bowls. “What were you doing with that?&r