009

A few hours after breakfast, the house had settled into its usual rhythm. The sunlight streaming through the blinds shifted gently across the bedroom floor, warming the edges of the bed where Amelia sat. Hazel had already left for school, she had taken the school bus today. 

A large brown basket of laundry sat at Amelia's feet, filled to the brim with clothes from the day before. Filled with Hazel’s tiny dresses, Adrian’s crisp shirts, her own folded blouses.

She worked quietly, folding piece after piece with deliberate neatness, the steady rhythm of her hands a contrast to the restless energy in the room. Across from her, Adrian paced. He was already dressed for the office, tie knotted, jacket buttoned, shoes polished to perfection. Yet, he hadn’t left. His briefcase sat on the armchair by the window, untouched.

Every few steps, he would stop, glance toward Amelia’s direction, then resume pacing again, as though rehearsing words he couldn’t quite string together.

Amelia ignored him. Her hands moved steadily, folding Hazel’s pink sweater, then smoothing out one of Adrian’s shirts with almost exaggerated precision. Only once did her eyes lift, catching him in the mirror on the dresser. She gave him no more than a fleeting glance before returning to her task.

His phone, resting on the bedside table, buzzed suddenly and broke the silence. The screen lit up with Peter’s name. Adrian stared at it but didn’t move. The ringing stopped, then resumed almost immediately. With a frustrated groan, he snatched the phone up and answered.

“What is it, Peter?” His voice was already sharp. He listened for a moment, then snapped, “No, I said not now. I have more important things to handle than work right now!” He hung up abruptly, tossing the phone back onto the table with a thud.

Amelia didn’t flinch. She simply folded another shirt and stacked it neatly, but a soft scoff escaped her lips. It was quiet, but it was enough. Adrian froze, his pacing cut short. Slowly, he turned to face her.

“You know…” His voice came lower now, careful. “I should have been there last night.”

Amelia kept her eyes on the clothes in her hands, smoothing a blouse before folding it in half.

“I should have been there,” he went on, his tone almost pleading. “For her… for you. But I wasn’t. And I am sorry.”

She said nothing. The silence between them swelled, filled only by the sound of fabric being folded, stacked, and folded again.

Adrian ran a hand through his hair and stepped closer, his words tumbling out in a rush. 

“Let me make it up to you, okay? Tell me what you want. Tell me what she wants. We can go away, maybe… the beach house. Hazel would love it there, you know she would. The sea, the sand, it could be good for all of us.”

At that, Amelia finally paused. She set down a folded dress and lifted her eyes, meeting his in the mirror.

“Hazel’s exams start on Monday,” she said flatly. “You want to take her out the day before her exams?”

The weight of her words hung in the air. Adrian exhaled, shoulders sagging, as though her voice had pierced through the hopeful script he had been trying to recite. Slowly, he walked across the room and lowered himself to his knees before her.

“Then tell me,” he said quietly, “what other way can I make it up to you two? Just tell me, and I will do it.”

Amelia finally turned to look at him directly. Her eyes, tired but sharp, locked onto his. For a long moment, she said nothing, only letting him sit there in his tailored suit, crouched on the carpet like a man stripped of power.

“Start by showing up,” she said at last, her voice steady. “Even when it is not convenient for you.”

Adrian’s chest tightened. He opened his mouth, but no words came.

“She doesn’t need your beach house,” Amelia continued, her tone cutting through the space between them. “She doesn’t need your ice cream, your pizza, or your grand gestures. All she needed was your presence, Adrian. Your God damn presence.”

Adrian closed his eyes briefly, her words slicing deeper than he expected. When he opened them again, his voice was quieter, almost broken.

“I have heard you,” he said.

He reached out, almost instinctively, picking up one of the folded clothes to join her in the task. But before he could finish, Amelia’s hands darted out. She snatched the garment from his grip, her fingers brushing against his for only the briefest moment.

Without a word, she shoved the basket closer to herself, a silent barrier that told him everything he needed to know.

Adrian sat back slightly, watching her. The disappointment etched into her face was harder to bear than her silence. It was raw, and it was real.

He sighed deeply, the sound heavy with defeat.

For once, the man who commanded boardrooms and spoke with unshakable authority found himself utterly powerless, in the quiet of his own home, before the woman whose eyes now carried nothing but disappointment.

***

Vivian and Fiona walked out of the lecture hall together, books in hand, designer bags hung over their shoulders. The sun was blazing, but Vivian’s mood looked anything but bright. She held her phone tightly, her brows furrowed as if she had just dialed a number again without luck.

Fiona, who had been chatting away about the lecturer’s confusing explanation, suddenly stopped mid-sentence. She noticed Vivian wasn’t even listening.

“Hey you, what’s up?” Fiona asked, nudging her arm. “You have been awfully quiet all through classes today. You don’t look fine. What is going on?”

Vivian hesitated, her lips parting but no words coming out. She kept her eyes on her phone.

By the time they got to the cafeteria, Fiona wasn’t letting it slide. They found a table in the corner and sat down. Fiona leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm.

“Spill it now, I’m listening,” she said firmly.

Vivian sighed. 

“It is Adrian. Since his birthday, I haven’t set my eyes on him. I have called and called, he doesn’t pick. And when he finally does, he barely says anything. No sweet words, nothing. It is like I don’t even exist anymore.”

Fiona reached across the table and touched her hand. 

“Come on, don’t do this to yourself. Maybe he is just busy. You know how men can be sometimes, they pull away when things get overwhelming.”

Vivian shook her head. 

“Busy? For this long? No… something is wrong. I can feel it.”

“Or maybe you are overthinking,” Fiona said, offering a small smile. “Don’t be uptight about it. Just keep trying. And besides…” she winked playfully, “…you know he has a family, right?”

Vivian snapped her head up. 

“Oh please. He loves me.”

Fiona chuckled softly, but her tone carried a hint of seriousness. 

“Yeah, well, he loves his family too.”

“Whatever,” Vivian muttered, looking away.

Fiona sighed and shook her head. 

“See, that is what you get for being a mistress. I have told you this several times, Viv. But anyway, cheer up, okay? Don’t make my afternoon moody with your long face,” she finished as she looked around for the waiter.