Cracks Behind The Smile

Ann closed the bathroom door behind her and leaned against it. For several seconds, she didn't move. She simply stood there, staring at the floor while her fingers remained wrapped around the doorknob.

The house was quiet. Too quiet even when she could hear faint voices downstairs. Daniel. Olivia. His parents.

She couldn't make out what they were saying, and perhaps it was better that way.

Ann slowly walked towards the mirror and stared at the woman staring back at her. The woman looked exhausted. Tired. Struggling. And it seems to her that she was the only one who can see it.

Her eyes were swollen from lack of sleep. Her hair was untidy, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. One hand instinctively moved to her stomach.

The baby kicked gently prompting a sad smile onto her face. "Good morning, little one." She greeted and rubbed her palm all over her stomach. "At least you don't judge me."

A small laugh escaped her lips. But the smile disappeared almost immediately.

She turned on the tap and splashed water on her face. Then she looked into the mirror again. "When did I become like this?" Her voice cracked as tears rolled down her cheek.

She wiped it away instantly trying to remain strong. "Don't cry." She mumbled to herself.

Don't cry in front of Daniel.

Don't cry in front of his parents.

Don't cry in front of the kid.

Don't cry at work.

If she had to cry, she would find somewhere nobody would see her. Like the bathroom or maybe in her office but before she knew it, another tear fell.

Then another.

Soon, she couldn't stop them.

Ann covered her mouth as a sob escaped. Oh, how she hated crying. How she hated feeling weak. Most of all, how she hated that she didn't even know what she was crying about anymore.

Was it Olivia? Was it Daniel? Was it his mother? Was it the company? Was it the pregnancy? Was it. their kid? Or was it everything?

Everything she had swallowed for years. Everything she had pretended didn't hurt. Everything she had convinced herself she could handle.

She slowly slid down the wall until she was sitting on the cold floor. One hand rested over her stomach. "I'm sorry." The word wasn't meant to come out but it came out anyways. "I'm sorry." She repeated over and over again.

She didn't know who she was apologizing to.

Her baby? Her kid? Daniel? Herself? Maybe everyone.

She lowered her head. "I should have done better." Her voice trembled. "I should have been more patient."

Memories flooded her mind. The arguments. The nights she had snapped at Daniel. The mornings when he tried to speak to her and she answered impatiently. The times she had walked away instead of explaining how she felt.

Maybe Daniel was right. Maybe she really had changed. Maybe she had become difficult to love.

Her chest tightened. "Maybe if I had been better..." She swallowed hard. "...he wouldn't have brought her here." That thought alone… hurt more than anything.

She pressed her palm against her chest. She remembered the woman she had been before motherhood.

The woman who laughed freely. The woman who dressed carefully for Daniel. The woman who could spend hours talking to him.

Then came her first pregnancy.

She had tried to balance motherhood, marriage, work, and the expectations of his family. She had barely recovered before becoming pregnant again.

Another pregnancy. Another baby. Another period of sleepless nights. Another pile of responsibilities. The company needed her. The children needed her. Daniel needed her. His parents needed her. Everyone needed something from her.

And somehow, Ann had convinced herself that asking for help meant she was weak. So she kept going.

Even when her body begged her to stop. Even when she was sick. Even when she wanted to sit down and cry.

She kept smiling. Until the smile became a mask. And now the mask was cracking. "I was just tired," she whispered. "I wasn't trying to become a bad wife." She covered her face. "I wasn't trying to hurt him." A quiet sob escaped. "I just wanted someone to ask if I was okay." That sentence broke her and she cried harder as her cries filled the bathroom. A silent deep cry of a woman who had spent too long pretending everything was fine.

Just in a flash a knock sounded on the bathroom door and it made Ann froze.

"Ann?"

Daniel. She quickly wiped her face.

"Yes?" She replied raising herself up from the bathroom floor.

"You've been in there for a while." He responded, his voice sounding curious.

"I'm fine."

There was silence.

"Are you sure?"

For a moment, Ann thought he cared. She wanted to open the door. She wanted to tell him everything.

I'm tired. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I miss you. I miss us. I need you.

But then, she remembered, he wouldn't care. He would think it was another way for her to give him an excuse so rather she answered, "Yes. I'm fine."

There was another pause for some few seconds before his voice finally came in again. "You're going to be late."

"I know." She mumbled, wiping tears from her face and eventually moved away from the mirror.

—

When Ann finally left the bathroom, she had washed her face and applied a little powder. She looked presentable again. Nobody downstairs would know what had happened.

She walked toward the staircase. Halfway down, she saw Olivia.

Olivia looked at her carefully. "You've been crying."

Ann stopped, taken aback. "No?”

With raised eyebrow, Olivia continued. "Your eyes say otherwise."

"I had something in my eye."

"Of course." She nodded while Ann continued down the stairs wondering how Olivia got to know about it as Olivia followed gently behind her.

"Ann." Olivia ended up calling

Ann turned. "Yes?"

"You don't have to pretend with me."

Ann twisted her face. "Pretend what?"

"How difficult it must be."

Then a frown creaked in.

Olivia smiled. "Watching another woman become close to your husband."

Ann's expression remained calm. "Daniel and I have been married for years."

"Exactly." Olivia stepped closer. "Which is why I think you should fight for him."

Ann looked at her. "I don't compete for my husband's attention."

Olivia laughed softly. "That's your problem."

Ann's eyes narrowed. "My problem?"

"You think being his wife is enough."

The word hit big on her and for a moment, silence filled the hallway. Ann studied the woman standing before her. "And you think what you're doing is appropriate?"

Olivia's smile widened. "I'm not doing anything."

"Good." Ann picked up her handbag. "Then there shouldn't be a problem." With that, she walked away.

Olivia watched her, gleefully. The calmness irritated her. Why wouldn’t she bawl out? She wanted tears. She wanted anger. She wanted jealousy. Instead, Ann was giving her nothing and it just seems to get to her a lot. How much more would she go for Ann to realize she needs her crawling under her feet? Huh? How much?

---

That evening, Ann returned home later than usual. She had stayed behind to finish her work.

When she entered into the living room, she scanned through and figured out everyone seems to be doing okay. And it lightened up her mood. She walked forward and greeted causing their attention to shift from the drama they were watching down to her.

Daniel glanced immediately at his watch while others answered her greetings. "You're late." He finally voiced out.

Ann smiled. "I had work."

Irritated by her respond, he fired. "You should have called."

Her face fell instantly and all she could do at that moment was apologize. "I'm sorry."

Olivia looked at her sympathetically. "You look exhausted."

Ann forced a smile. "I'm fine."

Daniel frowned. "Are you?"

For a brief moment, Ann wanted to tell him the truth like always.

“No. I'm not fine. I'm falling apart.”

But then again, she was quick to remember Olivia beside him. She remembered the breakfast. The coffee. Their laughter.

She lowered her eyes. "Yes." She added. "I'm fine."

Daniel stared at her for some seconds but before he could say anything, his mother spoke.

"Amara, go and change. Dinner will be ready soon."

"Okay, Mama." And with that she walked upstairs with Daniel succeeding in ruining her mood for the hundredth of time that very day.