Between Love and Loss: The Daughter I Made

Chapter 7: A Place for Two

The house was silent, heavy with absence. Tonight was their fifth anniversary, but the air in the room felt different—hollow. It was a day meant for celebration, but now, without him, it felt like an echo of what it used to be.

Kailiax moved around the kitchen mechanically, preparing the same dinner they always had on their anniversary. She set the table, as she always did, with two plates, two glasses of wine. But this time, the act felt empty. There was no joy, no anticipation of laughter or conversation. Just silence. Just the heavy weight of his absence pressing down on her.

She sat down, staring at the empty chair across from her. Her hand wrapped around the wine bottle, and she began to pour it into the glass, her mind elsewhere, lost in the memories of their past anniversaries—of his laughter, his smile, the way he always found a way to make her feel like the luckiest person in the world.

And then she heard it.

“Kailiax.”

It was his voice, soft but unmistakable, coming from the kitchen door. She froze, her heart pounding as she looked up. But the doorway was empty—just shadows and silence. Her hand trembled, and she hadn’t realized that she had overfilled the wine glass. Red wine spilled over the edge, pouring onto the tablecloth, staining it in deep crimson pools.

“Oh no…” she whispered, her breath catching in her throat.

She quickly stood, grabbing a towel to clean up the mess. Her hands shook as she dabbed at the spilled wine, her chest tight with the familiar ache of grief. As she bent over the table, trying to clean the stain, she felt it.

A presence behind her. Warm and comforting.

For a brief moment, it felt like he was there—like he was standing right behind her, just as he always had, his arms wrapping around her waist as he leaned in, teasing her with that playful tone. “Looks like you’re trying to drown the table,” he would have said, laughing softly in her ear.

Kailiax stopped, her hands still clutching the towel, her body frozen in place. She closed her eyes, holding onto the feeling of him for as long as she could. But when she opened her eyes, it was gone. He was gone. The warmth, the presence, everything. It was just her, standing alone in the kitchen with the mess of spilled wine and an empty chair across the table.

It was too much.

She set the towel down, her heart pounding, and walked out of the kitchen, her footsteps heavy as she moved through the house. Every inch of it felt like him. Every room was haunted by the memories of their time together. His laughter echoed in the living room. The kitchen still smelled faintly of the meals they had cooked together. The bedroom—the place where they had whispered their dreams and shared their lives—felt like a tomb now, empty and cold without him.

She couldn’t escape him. No matter where she went, he was there. Every corner, every shadow, every breath she took was filled with him. It was as though the walls themselves had absorbed the essence of their love, and now, without him, they felt too heavy, too suffocating.

Kailiax broke down. She sank to the floor in the hallway, her back against the wall, and sobbed. Her whole body shook with the force of it, her hands pressed against her face as she cried for everything she had lost. For him. For the life they had shared. For the future they would never have.