1: Broken Desires

Alora

“So what? You’re just going to walk away from my life like we never spent the last ten years as a married couple?”

“Yes,” his voice was cold, devoid of emotion, as though it was just a mere question.

My heart sank, and my jaw clenched.

“Is this what you really want? A break?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“Yes,” he said, shifting his gaze to me. “Not that I’m throwing you out, just a harmless break.”

A silent groan rumbled through my chest, but I forced the words out.

“What about last night? Doesn’t it mean anything to you?” I asked, crossing my arms as I stared at my beloved husband knotting his tie.

“Alora,” he paused, his eyes observing me.

“That was just a mere night. You wouldn’t have counted it as anything serious, would you?” The coldness in his voice tore through my flesh like cold liquid fire.

I looked at him. There were so many words to say, so many things to consider, but I bottled them up.

“How about the result from my last check-up I asked you to look into?” I asked.

His face contorted into a darkened expression as soon as the words left my lips.

“I’ve told you countless times that there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just being too paranoid and dramatic,” he said, picking up his briefcase.

The bedroom door slammed behind him as I watched him walk away without looking back.

His words hit deep, and their sting lingered, causing tears to stream down my cheeks.

It was our tenth anniversary, yet it meant nothing to him? He dared say those words to me without an iota of concern in his voice?

I took in a deep breath, I let the pain in my heart flow, causing fresh tears to fall down my cheeks.

Bracing up, I wiped the tears off my face and walked slowly to the drawer.

Sitting perfectly inside, was the folder containing the medical report from yesterday’s visit.

My heart tightened just at the sight before me.

My breath hitched. My palm trembled as I picked it up. It felt heavier in my arms, like it would swallow me up, bringing back the reality I feared. A lone tear slipped down again.

Ten years of love and sacrifice. Ten years of relentless devotion, and yet I stood there with what felt like a death sentence in my hands.

Alone and broken.

Stage four brain cancer!

Slowly, day by day, I was being drawn to my grave, closer than ever, yet my beloved husband never cared. It was never his cross to bear. I sniffed, trying to hold back my tears, but I couldn’t.

“I’m dramatic and paranoid,” I whispered to myself, letting it all out with a silent laugh, as the words burned deep down my heart, stirring fresh bitterness within.

After a brief moment, I pushed myself slowly into the washroom, allowing the cold water from the bath to run over my broken body, washing away my pain.

*****

A few hours later, I was back again. Strong, positive, and hopeful.

I hurried with the groceries, which were strenuous and exhausting.

From my previous visit, the doctor had advised I stay off hard work like this, but I didn’t care, not when it had to do with making his favorite meal.

It was our tenth anniversary.

I got home soon, only to realise I was already late. I hurriedly made his favorite meal and set the table, waiting for his arrival.

I got to the room and soon I was done putting on a little makeup and a perfect fitted gown, I blushed my cheeks slightly to adjust the powder.

My heart screamed he would finally notice me. He was finally going to love me again. Ten years was such a long time to neglect.

Glancing at my wristwatch, those thoughts gradually faded into thin air. It was already past his usual arrival time, yet he wasn’t home.

I took in a deep breath and waited.

One hour passed. Then two. Now it was past 7 p.m., and he still wasn’t back.

I swallowed hard, letting the dread in my heart settle, even though it was hard. My stomach twisted in knots.

Slowly, I walked to the window, my feet clicking against the tiled floor, the sound mirroring my pain and grief.

The evening air hit my face as my eyes scanned the environment stretched out before me. Everything seemed to reflect the state of my heart; cold, empty, and broken.

The coldness in my heart ran through me like a river, filling me afresh with bitter, sad memories. Those memories had made me hold on, even when it seemed impossible.

I blinked. I wasn’t going to give up. Not now. Not soon.

Slowly, I walked back to the couch, looking away from my burdens.

Even when my gaze drifted to the meal, neatly arranged on the dining table, I still braced up.

I picked up my phone and dialed his number. It rang, but there was no response. After the third ring, it redirected.

I knew what that meant. It sank deep into my bitter heart.

He had just blocked my line.

Like he always did.

I felt the sting of rejection pulling in my heart. But then again, I swallowed the lump in my throat, holding back my tears.

Then, I heard the sound of his car driving into the compound. I knew he was finally back.

I hurried to the door, briefly adjusting my gown and forcing a smile on my face as usual.

But as soon as the door creaked open, what met my eyes sent a more shocking chill down my spine at a fast pace.

For a moment, I doubted it was Lucas standing right in front of me, his shirt slightly opened, his hair disheveled like he had been running his hands through it all day.

“Honey, welcome,” I greeted, not letting the shock settle.

I was about to take his briefcase from him, but he yanked my arm off forcefully.

Pain shot through me.

“Don’t you dare call me that,” he snapped. The scent of alcohol filled the air.

I flinched as I instinctively stepped aside and he shoved past me, staggering toward the couch but fell to the floor.

I stood frozen in place. What had just happened?

Lucas was cold and distant, that was undoubtedly clear as daylight, but never had he returned home drunk.

Not only was he drunk, but on our tenth anniversary?

My mind raced in shock, but seeing him on the floor only fueled the unease in my heart.

I hurried over to help him up, but he pushed me hard. Stumbling backward, I landed on the floor. My back slammed against the couch, and my head hit hard on the wooden frame.

Everything felt numb. The pull that ran through my skull felt like a thousand painful vibrations.

“Don’t you ever touch me again,” he growled. “You disgust me. I regret ever being with you.”

His words echoed in my head, but I couldn’t understand their meaning. Not when I couldn’t think or blink. The only thing I could feel were dangerous, striking pains shooting through my entire skull.

It became more intense, pulsating and painful with each ticking second.

I looked at him. He was still on the floor, his lips mumbling. His words fell on deaf ears, I couldn’t hear them.

Slowly, I pushed myself up, reached for my car keys, and gradually stumbled toward the door. My head was still low, the pain sharp and constant.

“Yes, go. You loser. You’ve given me nothing but misery,” he roared, but I shut the door behind me.

I staggered toward the car. My palms trembled as I struggled with the key. I pressed it firmly and drove off.

Thoughts, memories flooded in.

My strength was failing.

At that point, I thought of calling Dad or even Sonia, my secretary.

But I relented. It was pretty late, and a call would only be a distraction. Moreover, I never wanted Dad to learn about my predicament. It would only bring him closer to his grave.

Driving out of the compound was an uphill task, but I pressed on, my arms wrapped firmly around the steering wheel.

I wasn’t letting go… or so I thought.

Not when the pain became unbearable, my arms slowly losing their grip on the steering wheel.

My last prayer surged; desperate pleas, dying desires, just to make it to the hospital.

But that was the only thing I remembered halfway through the lonely streets before everything blurred.