Dangerous Husbands, Broken Wives [18+]

TWENTY NINE: GOOD TOGETHER

[ANASTASIA] 

One minute, I'm chasing my daughter through the snowy evening, the crisp air biting at my cheeks and making me shiver, trying to get my hands on her so I can take her back inside. Her laughter echoes in the winter night, a pure, innocent sound that warms my heart despite the cold.

In the other minute, I'm being manhandled by my so-called husband, Ivan. He strides over to me with determined steps, his presence commanding and imposing. He drops his heavy overcoat onto my shoulders, its weight pressing down, and he forcefully slips my arms into it.

I know I shouldn't be annoyed by his attempt to keep me warm, but something inside me still feels the desperate need to push him away and scream.

Truth be told, this is what I have been worried about—for him to show the care that could easily unwind my heart. I don't know why, but I have always been too easy for him to exploit, to dissolve my anger and worries as if I was too naive to have them in the first place. He has always been too good at it—using his charm to fool my naive heart, and I've allowed it to happen, time and time again.

I can't even tell if there has been someone else before me he used the same tactics with. As surprising and bizarre as it sounds, Ivan never cared to share his past with me. I tried oftentimes, trying to know more about him, trying to understand him better, but all in vain, as if he had built a fortress around his past and deep emotions, making it nearly impossible for anyone to ease in.

He never opened up, always ending up distracting me with something else, something more intriguing, or simply silencing me with his lips on mine, putting our conversation on hold until we made love. But, of course, we never resumed that conversation from where we left it. Once it was put on hold, it was never brought up again.

I snap back to reality when I feel a tug at the coat, and my gaze instantly drops to my little girl, who seems to be bouncing on her feet, way too excited for her own good.

"Mommy and Papa look so good together," she claps her little hands, our tiny daughter cheering us as we stand close, with Ivan behind me, probably towering over my head with his tall stature.

However, I can't help but widen my eyes when Ivan drops his face over my right shoulder, as if trying to take a peek at Tati, and pecks my cheek instead. "We really do, don't we?"

"Yes!" Tati grins as wide as she possibly can before clapping and bouncing again, giggling, and cupping her mouth as if the simple peck on my cheek from her father is too scandalous. "So good. Can I also get a kiss, papa?"

"Of course, my darling," Ivan says, before he moves from behind me and picks her up in his arms, throwing her up in the air first—almost giving me a small heart attack when she starts to come down—before catching her right up and kissing her cheek while she keeps giggling and squealing.

My heart is in my throat by the time they calm down and turn to face me.

"Mommy, can you give me a kiss, too?" my little troublemaker asks, and I can only melt at the smile and that pleading look in her eyes.

"You say it as if I don't kiss you enough," I tease her, but my feet move towards the duo anyway.

"Just one more time, at the same time as Papa. I want a kiss on both my cheeks." Then she turns to face Ivan, as if she just had the most iconic idea of her lifetime. "Can we also take a picture, papa? I will show it to Ivan Jr. He will be so jealous." She giggles, her eyes shining devilishly—just like her father's sometimes does when he has nothing innocent in mind.

"Tati—" Before I can help it, I take her in my arms from him, and I feel a little tug at my heart when he easily lets me. His eyes stay on both of us, a soft smile on his handsome face. "You shouldn't say something like that, baby. If you want a picture, all four of us can have it. No one needs to be jealous."