The office chair squeals when I rise from it. Bitterness churns in my gut along with hunger and anxiety, the combination causing my body to break out in shivers. Nothing could have prepared me for yesterday. Watching Liya pull out that suitcase made me snap. Months of fear cracked through my carefully constructed image in a matter of seconds.
And I can’t take any of it back.
I scratch my head while wandering into the hallway. The kitchen lights glare at me, irritating my already bad mood. At the very least, it’s quiet, and it smells like someone brewed coffee.
I stop near the table.
Liya sits with her back straight and a teacup nestled between her hands. Her amber eyes focus on the table.Nothing else exists to her. She lives in her own little world.
My bitter feelings snap at my heels.Nothing elsemattersto her except what she wants.
Everything about her is cool and calm, but I know Liya. I know the tautness of her muscles speaks of concern and anxiety much like mine. She can’t hide those things from me. I’ve spent too much time watching her.
The way my heart thuds in my chest makes me want to hide. That’s not like me. That’s the levelheaded man who can handle any assault on his fortress and reputation. That’s the way of a coward.
To hide would mean admitting I’m wrong.
I can’t be wrong.
Not with Liya.
I look at her eyes. Will she look at me?But I am wrong. It’s written all over her face.
What might look like a calm countenance is merely an empty slate, waiting for me to do my worst. I pinned her to the bed last night out of anger. What’s next? Am I going to hit her?
I approach the counter. “Morning.”
“Morning.”
The coffee pot feels heavier than usual as I pour myself a cup. Part of me wants to prepare one for her just to elicit a reaction. She’s been refusing caffeine since she discovered she was pregnant, hyper-vigilant about what she puts into her body.
Whenshe puts something in her body.
Lately, it hasn’t been much.
I lean against the counter. The pressure between us turns up with each passing second. Rage swirls like wisps of smoke through my chest. Irritation follows. Regret flickers to life and sets my whole body on fire, turning me into a pile of ash in seconds.
I stare into my mug.Burning to death would be better than this.
She’s right there. I could end this ridiculous shit-show. I could put a stop to the horrors that she’s witnessed and prevent any more from crawling up to the door. I have that power. I could use it.
But I don’t.
What’s the point?
My hand drops to my pocket. I don’t need to reach inside to feel the outline of the wedding ring. It’s there, taunting me.
Haunting me.
I look at my wife—or is she already my ex-wife now? How long will she wait before she demands a divorce? Does she even have a plan for that? It’s hard to tell how far she’ll take it this time. She started packing last night. But will she drag the suitcase out the door today? This evening?
I swallow hard.Will she wait until next week?
I could ask, but I don’t want to go back over those details.
Besides, it’s too late. She’s made up her mind.
I take a gulp of coffee. The liquid burns, but it does what it needs—it jolts my system awake. Now, I can handle just about anything.