Beyond the paper walls

Disillusionment

I exited the elevator, carrying Alana’s ice cream. She usually wanted some before bed, so I’d stocked up, but somehow, it disappeared every night before she got it. I guessed it was Sofia’s way of taking control over the little things.

As I walked down the hall of our apartment, her voice broke my thoughts.

“I think this shift is going to change our lives for the better, Zane. Don’t you think so?”

“Hopes... the rest is on God,” I sighed, barely masking my exhaustion.

“Don’t worry. I won’t ruin our reputation this time,” she said, her voice laced with an odd sadness.

“Yeah, sure. Just try not to cheat with my best friend and my boss this time, so I don’t get fired and humiliated,” I shot back, my tone cold and taunting.

“For God’s sake, Zane! If you’d given me any attention, it wouldn’t have happened in the first place!” Her defensiveness only fueled my frustration, and I dove in headfirst.

“Hell, I wouldn't have lost my job and my dignity if you had kept things to yourself."

“Where’s Alana?” I demanded, attempting to change the subject.

“She’s sleeping. Guess she won’t need her ice cream tonight.”

“Look, Sofia, let’s keep this simple. You don’t like me, and I don’t like you. This marriage was just a business deal between our families. Yes, I stayed in it even after my parents disowned me, but that was only for Alana. We’re never going to be a ‘thing,’ Sofia. So don’t go out and publicly humiliate me again. People actually think our marriage is working, so let’s keep it that way this time. Don’t make me regret my decision—I’m tired of leaving the country every fifteen days to escape your infidelity. I’m exhausted.”

“I... I try my best too, okay? You think you’re the only one?” she replied, her voice a mix of anger and vulnerability.

“Yeah? You’re trying your best by pushing my daughter down the stairs because you’re mad? Yelling at her because you can’t stand her presence?” I spat, unable to hide my disgust.

“She... she just reminds me of my past, okay?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“That doesn’t give you the right to treat her like that. I swear, Sofia, if Alana ever tells me she wants to leave, I’ll take her, and you won’t stop me. I’m here because she believes you can change. Don’t make me regret trusting her.”

“I’m trying my best, okay?” Sofia muttered, cutting vegetables with meticulous precision. She was always so obsessed with her diet—constantly juicing, chopping, and counting calories. She’d forgotten how to live, how to enjoy life. It was as if she was made of salad and self-control, just not the kind that mattered.

I watched her with a mix of frustration and pity. Modeling had consumed her, erasing any trace of the person I’d once thought I could tolerate, maybe even understand. But Alana was the only reason we were even pretending to stay married. Otherwise, Sofia and I wouldn’t have looked at each other twice. We’d moved across countries, city after city, each time hoping things might change, but it was always the same toxic cycle.

My parents disowned me when they learned Alana wasn’t biologically mine, but I’d loved her before she was even born. Six years without a word from them, and things only kept getting worse, no matter how hard I tried to hold it all together.

I tossed and turned all night, sleep refusing to come. Finally, I went out for a walk to clear my head.

The night air was sharp with that familiar New York chill, making you feel both invisible and alive in the city’s unrelenting pace. We’d moved here because Alana thought if her mom’s work was closer, she’d come home earlier. I doubted it would make a difference.

I remembered the day I found out Sofia had cheated on me—with my best friend and my boss, no less. Yes, there was no love between us, but she could have at least shown the marriage some loyalty. She hadn’t even cared enough to keep it quiet. The whole town knew, and somehow, the blame fell on me.

I’d lost everything—family, friends, my dreams, all shattered in the wake of Sofia’s choices, or to some extent, even mine. Except for Alana, I had no one. My life had become a hollow cycle of pleasing others, of always disappointing them in the end. I wished a glass of scotch and a pack of cigarettes could solve it, but even they couldn’t touch the years of emotional damage. At this point, I doubted even love could undo all that had been broken.

I returned around three, taking the stairs instead of the elevator, hoping to delay my return to that empty bed.

The faint scent of a familiar perfume hit me as I turned around the corner, stopping me in my tracks. A woman was struggling to walk down the hall, her steps unsteady.

“Ma’am, are you okay? Do you need help?” I called out, approaching cautiously. There was something hauntingly familiar about her.

She turned around, and my heart stopped. It wasn’t just any woman—it was Aria.

Before I could react, she collapsed right in front of me, and it felt like someone had ripped the soul out of my body when I saw the blood on the floor.