Crestfallen [COMPLETED]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ - 25

Alex

I open the fridge door and place the extra food inside, like I do every day. It's become a routine, a small gesture that I hold onto, hoping that Joanna might find it and eat.

But deep down, I know it's futile. She rarely notices the food I leave for her.

Or maybe she does and chooses to ignore it.

I close the fridge with a sigh, my heart heavy with a mixture of frustration and longing.

It feels like we're living in two separate worlds, our paths diverging in ways I couldn't have foreseen.

I stand in the kitchen, the silence of the house pressing down on me. It's a silence that mirrors the emptiness I've been feeling lately.

I look around, memories of happier times flooding my mind times when we would share meals, and talk about our day.

Now, it's like we're two strangers under the same roof, barely coexisting.

The thought crosses my mind that maybe we're both getting used to this new normal.

a life without each other.

It's a terrifying notion, one that fills me with a sense of helplessness.

.................................................................

We park outside Nicole's house.

And something charges between us in the car. palpable tension.

I had asked Joanna to keep up appearances for the sake of my family, to maintain this facade of a happy couple.

I hated making that request, but it seemed necessary.

Joanna had agreed with a nod. A nod without a fight.
A nod that felt distant, almost indifferent.

This wasn't the Joanna I knew, she never held back before giving her opinion.

It stung, how easily she had accepted it.

Or maybe it didn't matter anymore.

We walk side by side together, a natural distance between us.

I draw closer to her, reminding myself and her. that we need to pretend, to make this charade convincing.

My hand finds its place on her waist, a touch that is meant to look affectionate, normal. But her closeness sends a wave of unease in me.

The door opens, and we're greeted by Nicole's smile. I keep my hand on Joanna's waist as we enter, a gesture that's meant to be familiar, comforting.

We engage in casual conversation, our smiles and touches carefully orchestrated to project our pretense.

"How are you, Alex? How's the group therapy going? " my mother casually asks over the dining table.

Mom, who's always had a businesslike tone.
sophisticated that somehow never felt motherly.
I feel a little uncomfortable, at the thought of elaborating about work and my recovery. It's just too much to bear everyday. And to speak about it...

Joanna slips her hand into mine, unexpectedly coming to my defense.

"He's healing and that's the best part. And the only part that matters," she smiles meeting my gaze.

"Yes, indeed," my mom smiles back at her resuming back to the conversation with my dad.

A small gesture of support that eases the discomfort of the situation. Joanna just saved me from recounting all the details.

I look at her, with gratitude, but she's already engrossed in a conversation with Nicole.

........

Later in the night, I stand in a corner. Nicole comes beside me.

As we watch, Joanna playing with Kenna, my sister's newborn daughter.

My heart warms at the sight of Joanna, so genuinely engaged.
Her smile reaches her eyes. The way she holds the baby, the protectiveness in her touch, it's as if the world around fades into the background for her with our niece.

"Do you think she will make a good mother?"

I can't help but ask Nicole, my voice laced with hope.

"You know the answer," Nicole replies with a smile.

"She will make the best mom out there."

I glance over the woman, ahead of me. My wife.

Nicole's right. I can see it, in Joanna's tender grip on Kenna. Her eyes warm with affection.

She would indeed be an amazing mother.

" You would have made a bad mother anyways."

The weight of the cruel words I had once said comes crushing down on me.

I had truly gone too far with that. Her tortured expression comes to my mind, when I had said that.
I gulp down the pang of guilt, that floods in me.

.............

As the night comes to an end, we bid our goodbyes, to my parents, and Nicole's family. Our pretense drawing to it's close end.

I hold Joanna's hand as we walk to the car. A brief gesture that feels foreign yet familiar. But tugs a realization in me.

I miss holding hands with her. I miss her fingers intertwined with mine.

Once inside, we separate our hands quickly.

I start the car and we drive away.

My grip tightens on the steering wheel, my mind wrestling with conflicting emotions.

I miss the feel of her hand in mine, the warmth of the lost connection.

And as I navigate the road ahead, I'm reminded of the painful truth.

That we've become skilled at pretending while the fractures in our relationship are still deeply endowed.

..............

I drive.

The familiar notes of an old favorite song is playing on the car radio.

It's a song that's etched into my memories, a song I used to listen to with Joanna.

I glance at her, my gaze drawn to her profile, her head resting on the seat, her hands tightly wound together on her lap.

She stares out the window, lost in her thoughts, and our eyes don't meet even once.

She leans further into the seat, seeking some sort of solace or escape in the view outside.

I wonder if she's avoiding looking at me or if she's just too drained, both physically and emotionally, to engage.

The car comes to a stop, and she gets out, gesturing for me to park the car until she opens the house.

I nod in acknowledgment, watching as she walks ahead.

I follow suit, parking it in the garage.

We enter the house, and she answers a call on her phone.

"Yes, Mark, I contacted the client. He's ," Joanna storms off towards her study closing the door, behind her.

A sinking feeling settles in my chest as I stand there in the hallway.

I'm not entirely sure what I'm waiting for.
Perhaps for her to come back, in the living room.

For her to acknowledge my presence?

But the door remains closed, and it's like a tiny wave of hurt finds it's way in me.

I move towards the bedroom, a heaviness in my steps. Fatigue washes over me, both from the day's events and from the emotional turmoil.

I step into the room.

I had sown the seeds of this growing distance. Of her staying away from me.

I wonder if I deserve it too.