𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄

In the living room, my wife was a vision of grace as she delicately hung ornaments on the tree. The theme for tonight was white Christmas, and she had taken that to heart, with white baubles, shimmering snowflakes, and silver tinsel.

Her concentration was palpable, each decoration carefully chosen and placed with tenderness that mirrored the love she poured into every aspect of her life.

I watched her, my heart swelling with admiration. Her artful touch transformed our home into a winter wonderland, and it was just one more testament to her incredible talents.

I cherished those moments of quiet, when we could just be together, when the complexities of our lives melted away into the simplicity of shared joy.

Just as I was lost in the sight of my wife’s decorating mastery, the doorbell rang, jolting me from my reverie. The corners of my lips turned upward; I knew who it was.

As I opened the door, there stood my father, a man of presence and character, holding two bottles of champagne. The sense of nostalgia was strong; we hadn’t shared a Christmas together in years.

“Father,” I greeted him with a warmth that belied the seriousness of our family’s affairs. My father’s gaze, a mirror of my own, softened with emotion as he looked at me.

There was so much to say, so many words unspoken, but sometimes, the simplest gesture carried the greatest weight.

—

I left the dining room, heading to the front door where I found Roux, standing on the threshold with a hint of surprise and curiosity.

“Roux,” I greeted my brother with a tight embrace that spoke of the complexities of our relationship.

“Come in,” I said, leading him away from the door and out to the porch. “How have you been?”

As we stood there, I couldn’t help but note the change in my brother. Roux had always been inquisitive, but now there was a newfound determination in his eyes.

“I’ve been well,” He replied with a carefully measured tone. “Business is as usual, and you? How are your friends?”

“I’ve been working on some matters myself,” I replied.

As we walked back to the dining room, Roux’s thought couldn’t be tamed. He couldn’t help but ask, “Who’s at the table with Dad?”

“A pleasant surprise,”

I know my brother’s curiosity grew stronger as we approached the dining room, but his questions were momentarily forgotten when he saw Teagan’s face.

“Teagan?” Roux’s voice held a note of astonishment as he looked at her. “What are you doing here?”

Teagan turned toward me, a gentle smile gracing her features as she explained, “This is the man I told you about from the supermarket. What is he doing here?”

“Minha vida, this is Roux, my brother,” I looked at Roux who was now being consumed with confusion. “Roux, this is Teagan,”

—

“My wife.” The room seemed to constrict with tension as the revelation unfolded.

The word “wife” hung in the air for a moment, carrying the weight of the years of secrecy that had surrounded our relationship. Roux’s eyes flickered with a mixture of disbelief and astonishment.

“When did this happen?” Roux finally asked, his voice tinged with surprise and a hint of accusation.

I leaned back in my chair. “Five years ago.”

The revelation settled over Roux like a dark cloud. He regarded me with a look that was both accusatory and filled with pain. The betrayal he felt was evident, and his anger simmered just beneath the surface.

Our exchange was heavy with unspoken words and emotions. Teagan, who had been watching the exchange in silence, felt the tension in the room like an oppressive weight.

Sensing the stormy atmosphere, our father, who had been observing the scene, interjected in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “Dacre, Roux, let’s not ruin this evening with heavy discussions. We’re here to celebrate Christmas as a family.”

Roux’s resentment and anger seethed beneath the surface. As our father attempted to defuse the situation with his Christmas sentiment, Roux couldn’t help but scoff, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, how delightful, Dad. We wouldn’t want to tarnish the festivities with the truth, would we?”

My eyes bore into Roux, and I spoke in a tone that was both firm and warning. “Enough, Roux.”

My brother fell silent, but continued to glare at me, the betrayal in his eyes was painfully clear.

Miguel, feeling the tension in the room like an almost tangible force, tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. He turned to Teagan, and began, “So, Teagan,”

Teagan, who had been a quiet observer in this family drama, now found herself the center of attention. She met my father’s gaze with a gentle smile, hoping to ease the palpable tension.

“Yes?” She replied, her voice calm and warm.

“I’d love to hear more from you. Tell us, how did you two meet?”

It was a simple question, but it was a lifeline in the tempest of emotions that had been swirling around the table. My wife began to recount the story of how we met.

—

“How could you do this, Dacre?” He hissed, the words trembling with the weight of betrayal. “You knew I’ve been searching for her for years! I never stopped!”

My face was etched with guilt as I tried to explain, “I didn’t want to hide it from you, but the timing... it was never right.”

Roux halted, his anger boiling over, “The timing? Dacre, every moment you knew about her, and kept it from me was the wrong timing. I am your brother!”

“I know, and I’m sorry. Teagan and I, we’ve been through so much, and I just wanted to protect her.”

Roux’s fists clenched, his anger far from quelled.

“Scared of putting her in danger? Dacre, you robbed me of a chance to find Teagan. You took away my choice, and my right to know what happened to her. What danger could I have possibly have brought upon her? Do you think I’m a threat to her happiness?”

“No, Roux. That’s not what I meant. I just... wanted to protect her.”

Roux’s voice remained sharp, his heartache evident. “You kept Teagan a secret, and I had to find out tonight, on Christmas Eve, of all nights. You’ve always been selfish.”

TO BE CONTINUED.