Lost in madness

51

The morning routine unfolded like a carefully choreographed dance. I moved through the kitchen with practiced precision, whisking pancake batter, and scrambling eggs. Nico's favorite breakfast materialized—fluffy chocolate chip pancakes and a perfectly crafted scrambled egg sandwich.

Christian descended the stairs just as I was setting the plates. His entrance felt different—charged with the unspoken tension from our previous night's conversation. Without meeting my eyes, he ruffled Nico's hair.

"Ready, buddy?" he asked.

Nico grinned, his mouth full of pancake. "Mmhmm!"

"Have some breakfast before you leave," I pleaded, my voice softer than I intended.

Christian glanced at the plates, his jaw clenching. The look he gave me was a mixture of hurt and anger. "I'll pass. I have a meeting." He turned to Nico. "Come on, buddy."

"Bye, mom," Nico mumbled through another bite.

"Bye, baby," I whispered, watching them leave.

The silence after their departure felt suffocating.

Work was a blur of meetings and half-focused conversations. My mind kept drifting to Christian, to Andrew, to the complicated web of emotions threatening to consume me. By evening, I collected Nico and dropped him at my in-laws' place, the familiar routine a temporary balm to my turbulent emotions.

Three days of Christian's silent treatment had worn me down. Something had to give.

I stopped by the local store, picking up a bottle of wine. The expensive bottle Andrew had brought remained sealed—bringing that up would only complicate matters further. I set the table with careful precision, applied makeup with deliberate strokes, and chose a dress that he loved.

Soft music played in the background—a subtle invitation to conversation.

When Christian walked in, he looked exhausted. His suit was slightly rumpled, tie loosened. For a moment, his eyes softened when they met mine—a flicker of the connection we once shared.

"What's this?" he asked, taking in the carefully arranged scene.

"I thought we could talk," I responded, my voice steady despite the hurricane of emotions inside me.

"It depends," he said slowly. "Are you ready to be honest?"

"Ask me anything," I invited, gesturing to the table.

He sat down, the distance between us feeling like an ocean.

"Did anything happen between you two? Recently."

"Hmmm...we kissed."

He folded and took a step back,

"It meant nothing.."

"When?" He whispered.

"A few days before our wedding... it was a stupid mistake and I've regretted not telling you ever since."

"Are you still in love with him, Dabe?" The question hung in the air, sharp and precise.

I took a deep breath. "I don't know, It's complicated" I admitted.

The truth felt both liberating and terrifying.

Christian looked simultaneously surprised and defeated. "You told me, you wanted to get married, that you wanted us to start a family and I believed you."

"I still do."

"Are you sure about that? Cause it kinda looks like you are not ready, half of the time, I'm not even sure if you are here, happy or just pretending to be."

"I'm happy!" The denial erupted from me. "I married you because I love you. Because you make me feel seen. Loved."

But with each word, I could see the hurt deepening in his eyes.

"So he didn't love you the way you wanted to be loved," Christian said, his voice clinical. "So you settled for someone who loved you, even though you knew you could never love him."

"That's not true," I whispered. "I love you."

"How can I trust you, Dabe?" he asked. "You just admitted you're still in love with someone else."

"Andrew and I have history," I tried to explain to the best of my ability. "But that's all it is—history. What we have now can never be compared to that, I don't know how else you want me to explain it. I love you, you and Nico mean the world to me."

"Yeah, you know what I think, I think we need space, I'm going to crash at a hotel for a few days. I really hope you figure out yourself before then." Christian said sadly and left.