The Widower's New Bride

Elliot One.

The echoes of Ivan cries resonated through the hall to the kitchen where Elliot checked if the milk he is preparing for him is warm enough.

He knew very soon his mother's effort to coo him would soon be futile, placing the nipple cap over the bottle, he removed the boiled milk from the bowl of ice he placed it in to cool a bit. Trying to imitate his mother, he placed the tip of the nipple over his hand and poured some warm milk on his skin, but regretted it almost immediately as it burned him through he cursed at the pain dispersing around his hand and mistakenly let go of the bottle which spilt the milk on the tiled kitchen floor.

Seeing his efforts since the wake of the morning go to waste he forgot the burn radiating across his skin. The constant tick of the clock reminded him he was late for the meeting with the board. He looked at the spilt milk with frustration slowly building inside of him.
Ever since Audrey left, his life became worst with each day and he can't ignore the fact he was incapable of taking care of Ivan, managing his work and the grief eating him alive.
His mother has been helpful but he knew taking care of Ivan is a strenuous duty and was not in any way suitable for her health and age, continuously for a month and some days.

The sounds of her footstep walking towards the kitchen drew him from his thoughts and despair.
He raised his head from the spilt milk to his mother, her hazel brown orbs lingered softly on him.
He saw sympathy.

"You can go to work, Elliot, you're already late, " she suggested, Ivan loud cries reduced to incoherent babbles, his fingers toying with the grey strands of his grandmother's hair.
His eyes were the same colour as his mother's, Audrey.
Crystal green orbs except his was a shade darker and his irises almost too big for his white pupils.

Noticing his long stare at his son, his mother added, a little smile graced her lips, "Don't worry about Ivan. I have some reserved bottled milk, would warm it up."

"I am not bothered about work, mother, the board must understand the hell I am passing through. I lost my wife last month, I have the responsibility of raising our child singlehandedly plus work, " he stated, his voice lacking the emotions supposed to be lacing his words.

He sounded blank to Vivian, his mother, lost even, "I am trying to pull it together, but I can't deny I miss Audrey, if she was around things would be a lot easier." The sadness cloaking his very being as he mentioned his late wife name could not be missed.

He changed instantaneously to his signature cold expression devoid of any iota of sentiments he spoke off a few seconds ago, dropping his head to place a mild kiss on Ivan's forehead. He turned on his heels, collected his briefcase and headed to work.

As Elliot worked towards his office for the first time since Audrey death, he avoided passing close to her empty office adjacent to his, memories of their time together trying to choke the air travelling down his lungs.

Hold it together, Elliot.

He tried, really tried not to break down in front of his staff who passed whispers at his first appearance since his month absence from work.

He blocked their existence and focused only on his, he knew getting back to face the world with thousands of gossips blogs and tabloids over popularizing the situation of his family won't be easy.
And he knew the mask existing truly in him, the lack of feeling and numbness he felt throughout this period and continue to feel would be familiarised with in no time.

He took the elevator to the top floor where the meeting was being held, and pushed through the door, meeting relieved eyes of men in dark suits seated around the long wooden polished desk.
His father at the far end passed a gratifying smile at his presence.
Handing his briefcase to his secretary that tailed around him, he composed himself to the projector screen and faced them, "Let's begin, " his deep voice thundered through the room.

Through with the meetings, he walked into his office clean and glistening. The air filled with artificial fragrance but he could smell the faint scent of Audrey's rosy scent.

He could see her too, her bright green orbs sparkling as she sat on his desk. Her dark long hair was styled straight different from the waves that were her usual.
Her smile could match the radiance of the sun on a bright day, it lit his dark world and he could feel his heart pumping at the sight of her.

"What are you thinking of? El, come join me, " she offered, her bright aura drawing him in.
He felt his legs walk towards her, relishing this moment. He held her by the waist losing himself in her green orbs and drew closer wiping away any space that existed.

"Elliot, only the two of us exists, in this life and next."
His fingers skimmed softly across her face, his gaze laid on her lustrous full lips that continuously tempt him, "Us, Forever, " he breathed, bending downward to claim her lips, but as he did he realized he wasn't kissing Audrey but the air.

It wasn't real, his mind told him.

Audrey is dead, remember.

She is dead.

The reality he accepted but won't ever adapt to.

Us, forever.

He would live true to those words.

Concluding the half of the tumultuous paperwork needing his attention, he closed his laptop reminding himself he would work out the other half later in the night.
His work was never-ending, since the one-month absence, he needed to push back with equal force to keep the company ahead.
He was the managing chairman of the generational Clement Marketing LTD

His grandfather started this business, followed by his retired father who still looks over other affairs of the company, presently himself and one day Ivan.

He had the responsibility to ensure it was a success in all of its endeavours, the burden, problems and risks facing the company all on his shoulders.

Pushing his chair back to stand, his office door opening bought his attention, he cast his gaze to the source a bit surprised to see his father.
He walked to the desk located towards the west wall of the large office, a huge glass wall overlooking the high rise buildings of New York, the night already out making the litted night resemble stars on land.

Elliot took a few strides towards the wall wanting to distract his mind, but his father voice drew him back.

"I didn't think you would be able to make it to the office today."

Slowly he slid his hands to his side pockets, his posture straighter than before, "But I did," he replied, his answer too formal and short.

A sigh exuded his father's lips, "Elliot, I know how hard this is for you, we--"

Elliot stopped him from continuing, turning around to face him, his stare a bit hard.
"I don't need pity, Father and I don't want to talk too. Today has been long and Ivan needs me."
He collected the materials he would need for work and trudged out of the office, leaving his father behind.
Keith understood the storm his son was passing through. Though he never liked that woman, but she was his son's life.
She meant everything to him now she was gone he felt the storm would never stop.

The once happy and positive Elliot was gone when she died, the real Elliot died with her.
He hoped one day he would look at the bright side of life again.

It wasn't a surprise, his mother and Ivan was asleep when he reached home the housemaid informed him. His mother spent her weekdays with him, helping him nurture Ivan and provide for his basic needs since he had no knowledge of taking care of a baby. During the weekends she visited and spend her night back home with his father.

During these past weeks, he learnt the hard way of a very demanding Ivan, this young child definitely ruled over him and his life now.
Putting him first above every other thing was a golden rule, so when his mother called him during a conference to inform him Ivan had developed a fever.
He dropped all he was doing and excused himself rushing back home. The doctor was already present, they walked into Ivan room to meet him but what he saw next plunged him into confusion and anger.

What's is the red-haired woman doing here?

With his son in her arms?

_______$$
Author's note:
Chapter one done.

What do you think?

#Request: kindly suggest a chapter title.