“Fuck you, Pavel!”
It feels like my chest splits open. My heart pleads for me to do what she just pleaded.Just stop!But my brain won’t let any of it go. Even as it rips me apart. Even as it hurts her. I’m still bleeding from the way her words sliced me, yet I can’t show it. I can’t stop.Why bother stopping when it won’t change the outcome?
That’s the raw truth, isn’t it? That’s what truly drives the nail into the coffin.
Why bother?
I stare at her over my mug, waiting for her to make a move. I’m not the only one who can stop this. The power has been in her hands all along. She’s always had a choice—more than she’s ever known.
I’m tender from the cuts that refuse to close. Before I risk losing too much dignity, I drift toward the foyer.
“Just let me know when you’re leaving,” I say over my shoulder. “So I can change the security code.”
I didn’t have to say that. I could have quietly left the room and let her stew by herself. That’s usually the best course of action with Liya.
But the way she’s harmed me is unreasonable.
See? I can be unreasonable, too.
***
Dignity only takes me so far. I make it to the bedroom, realize it smells like floral champagne, and move to the attic instead. It only takes a few seconds, and I don’t spill a drop of my coffee.
Dusty yellow light blankets the floor. The crib sits behind the box, unfinished. I set my mug down, march toward the crib, and snatch a hammer from the ground. I hoist it over my head and fight the urge to bellow.
God, the intensity of my rage could burn an empire to the ground. The anguish that festers inside me can only be released by breaking something. I pick up a hammer and stare down at the unfinished crib. I don’t care if this is what I’ll break. I don’t care what it means to me. I don’t care that she won’t have any idea that I’ve destroyed it.
Why bother?The hammer rises. But never comes down.
Because I love my child.
I haven’t even met him, and I already love him. He means everything to me. He’s the reason I’m trying to win this war, aside from Liya.
He’s my world.
My shoulders weaken.I can’t do this.
I set the hammer aside and lift a screwdriver. I shove the box aside and furiously dive back into my project, the familiar movements soothing my rage. A few screws later, and my rage is diminishing, reduced to a dull ache in my bones.
As I bow over the crib, I think about the coming days. I don’t know when Liya will actually leave. I could return home one night and she might be gone. I can’t do anything about that.
But I put slot A into slot C. I pop screws into place, check the sturdiness of my work as I move along, and make adjustments here and there as needed. This is the only thing I’veeverbeen able to control. My gaze slides toward the circular window.
She’ll never see this crib. And my heart breaks all over again.
Even when I go to take my kid from her, she won’t know I did this. She’ll just know I have a bed for him, not that I’ve been building one this entire time.
I straighten up.Unless I tell her about it.
She hasn’t seen my dedication to our child. She knows I want to be a father because I’ve told her. But she hasn’t witnessed the effect this desire has had on me.
If I show her, maybe things will be different. She could still leave, but it would be on different terms. It would be better. It would be the farewell of my dreams.
And then her words return, lashing me as I head to the stairs and stopping me in my steps.
Monster, she whispers.Liar.
The farewell of my fantasies won’t happen. She probably won’t even spare a second look at me as she walks out the door.