004 What’s Up With My Wife?

(Zach)

Cutlery scrapes against plates, Lila’s giggles breaking through the rhythm of breakfast.

She slaps her palms on the table, syrup smudged across her cheeks as Ava wipes her clean.

It should feel ordinary. But it doesn’t.

Ava feels different.

She’s right here, close enough that I could reach across and take her hand, but there’s a distance I can sense.

The smile on her lips doesn’t reach her eyes. 

Every time I look up, I find her already watching me. Steady. Calculating.

The unease sits heavy in my gut.

Because I know what I did. Or rather, what I didn’t do.

I didn’t tell her the truth about last night.

I said I’d be at work late. I often blame work but I’m not at work.

I’m with Sienna and Kai. Sometimes at their place and sometimes at the hospital.

I think Ava is starting to suspect something. 

She probably thinks I’m having an affair with Sienna. 

I’m not. I would never. 

Sienna and I are only friends. Close friends, best friends.

We share a child. A child who is very ill right now. The other thing I haven’t been honest about with Ava.

When I came home, Ava and Lila were asleep, curled together in the bed. They looked peaceful. And I couldn’t bring myself to wake her.

Now I know that Lila had a rough time with teething. And I wasn’t here.

Because I was with Sienna.

The memory is sharp and vivid.

Kai on that hospital bed, too pale, too weak. His nosebleed just wouldn’t stop. It took forever. 

One of the symptoms of Aplastic Anemia.

My boy. My son. He’ll need bone marrow. There’s been no other match. Lila needs to be a match. Or he might not live out the next year.

We’re trying absolutely everything else first. I insisted.

As soon as Sienna saw me last night, she pulled me aside.

“We keep this quiet. Do you hear me? The press will tear him apart, Zach. We can’t let this get out.”

I gritted my teeth. “Ava has a right to know. She’s my wife. She’s Lila’s mother.”

“Not yet.” Her voice dropped. Her hand closed over my wrist, nails grazing. “She’s fragile. You know that. She’ll panic. I don’t want to worry her.”

“Okay, okay.” She’s always so concerned for Ava. She really cares about her.

“Don’t tell Ava until we know if Lila’s a match. Because then she’ll have to decide. She’ll want to protect Lila, of course. So don’t put the weight of that decision on her shoulders just yet.”

“She will help Kai.”

“Zach, a mother’s first instinct is to protect her own child. She might say no. She has every right too. What if we rush in and tell her before we know everything and she says no and takes Lila away?”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t say no.”

“I’m not taking any chances. Promise me, Zach. If you think anything of me at all, you will respect my wishes. This isn’t just about you and your guilt feelings.”

And I let her talk me into silence. 

Because when I looked at Kai’s hollowed-out eyes and trembling hands, all I could think about was saving him.

“Tomorrow,” Sienna says firmly, “let’s just see if the markers are favorable first. The hospital has the heel prick test blood stored for Lila. Did you ask them to check that?”

“Yes. They’ll have the report for me by Tuesday morning.”

Now I sit here, across from Ava, who is cutting fruit for our daughter. 

She doesn’t know. 

And the way she looks at me tells me she senses that there’s things she doesn’t know.

The front door slides open, jolting me from the thought.

“Good morning, my loves!” Sienna breezes in, perfume wrapping the room.

Kai drags behind her, shoulders slumped, his steps sluggish. He barely manages a weak fist bump before he collapses into the chair beside me.

Ava’s concern is immediate. “Kai, you look so ill. Maybe you should stay home in bed today.”

“You okay, buddy?” I ask, crouching slightly to meet his dull eyes.

“Feel sick,” he mumbles. “I’m okay though. I want to see Lila.”

I force a smile, ruffling his hair. “She’s excited to see you too.”

Ava scoops him into her arms before I can say more. 

She holds him tight, her hand smoothing his back in long strokes. “Sweetheart, I hope you feel better soon.”

She lingers, studying him like she’s committing every detail to memory. 

When she finally lets go, her gaze lifts and locks on me.

It isn’t warm. It’s sharp, questioning. “These allergies sure seem extreme.”

Then Kai sits and makes silly faces at Lila, and she giggles.

Sienna perches at the table and grabs some pancakes. “It’s just a virus. We’ve got a check-up this week,” she says casually.

Ava doesn’t answer, but her lips press into a line.

Then Ava breaks the silence. “Actually, I want to come today. To the park. With you.”

Sienna freezes, fork midair. “You never come with us.”

“I know but Lila is very clingy.” Ava wipes a smear of syrup from Lila’s chin, her voice calm. Controlled. “She was crying a lot last night. Teething I think.”

Sienna always joins us for breakfast and then takes the kids off for the day. To give us some quality time.

Ava and I generally spend the day getting naked and indulging in each other.

I study her. “Are you sure? We usually—”

“Yes.” The word is quiet, firm, final. “I’m sure.”

Sienna’s laugh is forced, brittle around the edges. “Well, the more the merrier.”

Lila claps her hands, delighted at Kai. Sienna leans forward with a smile, aiming a kiss for Lila’s cheek.

But Lila twists, turning her face away from Sienna and her little hands grab at the air as she says “Mama.”

Ava is there in a heartbeat and she picks Lila up.

Sienna tries to laugh it off. “Oh, baby girl, you never say no to kisses from Si Si.”

“She doesn’t have to kiss anyone.” Ava’s tone is soft but it slices like steel. 

She kisses Lila’s curls and strokes her back. “She can say no to kisses. It’s her body. Her choice.”

The words hang heavy in the air.

Sienna’s smile falters. “Of course.”

But Ava isn’t finished. “Better she learns that now. Too many kids are told to be polite to people who don’t deserve their trust.”

The silence that follows is thick. I’m certain she suspects I’m having an affair.

Kai breaks it with a silly face that sends Lila into giggles again.

Sienna seizes the distraction, chattering too loudly about playground swings and ice cream shops. But I can’t take my eyes off Ava.

She sits there, serene, stroking our daughter’s hair, but every word she’s spoken this morning has been deliberate. Sharp. Intentional.

She’s different.

And for the first time ever, I can’t read my own wife.

And that make me nervous.