No Going Back

7 - 2

Antonio

As I stormed into the hospital, my mind was racing with fury. Everything had imploded, and Floria knew it all. The thought of Chase made my blood boil - I wanted to rip him apart, make him pay for destroying my life. Hendrix, that smug, self-righteous prick, was next on my list, I itched to slam my fist into his face. And Floria's uncle? He was lucky I didn't kill him on the spot.

But I knew unleashing my wrath now would only push Floria further away, and that was the last thing I could afford. I needed to keep her close, hold her tight, and pray she'd still want me. My anger was making me see red as if I would burst with impatience, but I forced myself to breathe, to calm down, to think.

I braced myself for anger, for tears, for screams. But nothing could have prepared me for Floria's cold stare, the icy venom dripping from her words. She looked at me with a revulsion that cut deeper than any knife had hurt me, as if I was the snake she had nurtured and I had repaid her trust by striking, injecting my poison into her very soul.

The Floria I knew was gone, replaced by a stranger who gazed at me with an unyielding hatred that left me further annoyed.

My emind refused to believe the reality. Where was my gentle, kind-hearted Floria? The one with the soothing voice and compassionate smile? If hatred in eyes could kill you, I'd be tortuously slaughtered by the raw rage that radiated from her very being.

Panic set in, and my words tumbled out in a reckless, honest but self-destructive cascade. I was only adding gasoline to Floria's fury with every ill-chosen phrase but also true.

I was swallowed by an internal earthquake, panic rippling through my muscles. My thoughts vibrating, words tumbling out in a jumbled mess and my frustration boiled over further with her ridiculous investigation.

I hated this. We'd never fought. Floria had loved me, trusted me blindly when I held the reins and led her. This wasn't what my plan was. She wouldn't have ever known, and I would've stopped fucking Samara once Floria was good to have sex. It was supposed to be a secret arrangement, and now it had spiraled into a unnecessary nuclear bomb.

Seeing Floria broken and fragile in the hospital bed was maddening. All I wanted was to hold her close and be with my wife as I always had. But instead, I faced a woman I barely recognized.

My mind raced with questions my anger blocked me from asking. Was she doing okay? Had the delivery been seamless or terrifying? Did fear grip her during those intimate moments?

My head throbbed in rhythm with my frustration, and her relentless questions only amplified my exasperation. I seethed with anger, my rage directed at her ex, but I forced myself to rein it in. My body vibrated with tension, but I bit back the venom, desperate to keep my anger in check and not drag my wife out of here and back home.

For god's sake, it was just sex - a fleeting, primal urge that meant nothing. Temporary, physical, a momentary need - that's all it was.

She was inflating the situation to epic proportions. I understood her rage, her fury was justified; she could have lashed out with a slap or unleashed a torrent of blows. But to call for divorce? I seethed with indignation, infuriated that she thought she could walk away from me, from us, without a fight.

I always thought Floria couldn't live without me, but now the mere possibility that she might be able to, enraged me beyond measure. The idea that she could walk away, that I wasn't indispensable to her was filling my mind with blazing rage, my whole body was on fire.

Audrey led me to the NICU ward, and I knelt before the incubator, gazing at the delicate baby. The tiny face seemed to mirror my own features more than Floria's, leaving me stunned just the way I was when I saw her mother for the first time.