All That She Needs

Part 8 : Asha

I watched my husband absently swirling the little spoon in his coffee, his mind a thousand miles away. The harrowing expression he wore had been etched on his face for the past week. I knew that look all too well—I had seen it on him for months when he was mourning the loss of her.

And now, it was back again. I wasn't sure I had the strength to go through this again.

My heart wrenched at the thought, the familiar ache creeping in as I realized that whatever had brought him back to that place was tearing him apart all over again.

"Aiden," I called out, but he didn't respond. It was as if he didn't even hear me. I tried again, my voice a little louder this time, desperate for him to come back to me, to see me, to hear me. "Aiden." Still, nothing.

I felt my son Kayden's eyes on me and glanced over at him. He shook his head slowly, his expression filled with a knowing sadness. It wasn't just me who felt Aiden's detachment—Kayden felt it too. He understood, as I did, that whatever we did or said wouldn't be enough to bring Aiden back to us. He might be physically present, but his heart and mind were no longer with us. I often wondered if this detachment happened only at home or if he was the same in the office. But his projects continued on, and he was still busy at work, still working late, so it seemed that only his family had been sacrificed in this emotional fallout.

It felt like a lost cause. Our marriage seemed impossible to salvage, and the way Kayden looked at me—his gaze filled with resignation—conveyed that he, too, had given up on his father. But despite everything, I was still afraid. I couldn't imagine my life without him, no matter how distant he had become. Without him, what would I be?

Kayden pushed his chair back to get up, the scraping sound of the chair was rather loud and impatient, and it seemed to yank Aiden out of his thought. He looked up to his son and finally spoke. "You're leaving for school?"

Our son just stared at him, frowning deeply. But Aiden was oblivious to everything except his own feelings, and instead, he asked, "What time is it? I should be going too."

"No. You stay." Kayden's voice was gruff as if he was gritting his teeth. "You'd been spaced out for almost an hour, Dad. Mom had been calling you, but you ignored her."

Kayden's words struck me, and I felt a sting behind my eyes. My usually reserved son was standing up for me, showing how much he was hurting too. As painful as it was, I was glad Chloe wasn't there. She left early for school for an event, and I wasn't sure I could handle seeing the same disappointment on her face.

Aiden's gaze snapped toward mine, his expression shifting to one of guilt. "You did? I'm sorry I didn't hear you." He reached out, taking my hand and clasping it between both of his. "What did you want to say to me?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat and blinked at the tears to stop it from falling, as I watched Kayden walked away to the front door, his head hanging low as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. This was what Dennis had been trying to make me see—that my silence, my acceptance of Aiden's behavior, was not only affecting me. It was impacting my children as well. By not standing up for myself, I had allowed Aiden's actions to hurt them too. And I saw it now. I finally saw it. The realization hit me with painful clarity, and I knew that I needed to do something to end this not just for my own sake, but for my family's.

"Asha, sweetheart, what's wrong?"

But not now. I needed to be levelheaded when I talked to him. I was too emotional at the moment to be able to discuss this properly. I needed to take a step back, gather my thoughts, and approach the conversation with rationality.

Aiden was searching my face, his expression growing frantic as he seemed to find something he couldn't quite process. He dragged my chair to him, pulling me close, and buried his face on the crook of my neck. I could feel him slightly tremble against me.