Lost in madness

52

I watch Nico from the wooden park bench, his laughter carrying across the playground as he scales the monkey bars. My thoughts drift to Christian, as they often do lately. It's been days since I've seen him at home. Is he eating properly? Getting enough sleep? One of us should be resting, at least.

The familiar scent hits me before I notice someone sitting down – that distinctive cologne I'd recognize anywhere. I scoff, not bothering to turn. Andrew. Of course.

We sit in silence, watching our children play. Jacob, Andrew's son, is showing Nico how to do a proper cartwheel on the grass. My chest tightens at the sight – they look so much alike, these half-brothers who don't even know how oddly they're related.

"I still can't believe we have a child together," Andrew finally speaks, his voice soft with wonder. "Our child, you and me."

I wrap my arms around myself, feeling suddenly cold despite the warm afternoon. "Yeah, even when I try to get away from you, I'm pulled right back." The words come out with a heavy sigh.

"Sounds like we are meant to be."

"Or we've been deceiving ourselves for way too long." I countered.

"Is that supposed to mean something?" There's an edge to his voice now, that familiar defensive tone I know too well.

I turn to face him, tired of dancing around the truth. "Yeah, it means I'm tired of these games we've been playing for over twenty years. I want an actual life, without all the drama." My fingers nervously twist the wedding ring on my finger.

"We can have that." He shifts closer, and I catch the hopeful gleam in his eyes, "I can give you that."

"No, you can't." I shake my head firmly. "There's too many people involved now – Jacob, Sally, Christian. These are people with actual feelings, and I'm done hurting them..." My voice cracks slightly at the last word.

Andrew runs his hands through his hair in frustration. "For once, I know what I want, and it's you. It's always been you." His intensity makes me lean back slightly.

"It's too late." The words taste bitter in my mouth.

"Tell me how I can not have feelings for you when you're all I think about." His hand moves as if to touch mine, but I pull away.

"I don't know, Andrew." I watch Nico attempt another cartwheel. "That's something you need to figure out yourself."

"Have you figured it out?" His question hangs heavy between us.

"I'm married." My wedding ring catches the sunlight.

"That's not what I asked." His voice drops lower, more intimate.

"Stop..." I whisper, feeling my resolve wavering.

"What is it you want, Dabe?"

"I want to move on," I say firmly, strengthening my voice. "I want to live happily with the man who loves me and chose me from the very start."

Andrew leans forward, his eyes intense. "I screwed up, but I've always been honest about how I felt about you. I'm completely smitten by you, some might say obsessed. Every thought, every breath is you...."

My hands clench into fists.

"Well now, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm married. I'm very happy. I'm never moving to London and I'm not giving up on my marriage."

A knowing smile plays on his lips. "A little bird told me Christian hasn't been home for days. Is this the reality you want?"

Heat rises to my cheeks. "Christian and I will be fine. That's what a real relationship looks like, and I'm loving every second of it." I jab a finger at his chest. "You need to stop using our son for your little games."

"Are you sure this is the life you want?"

It's like I'm speaking to myself. I stand abruptly, my heart pounding. "Nico! Time to go!"

Andrew's hand catches mine, his touch sending unwanted electricity through my arm. "Dabe, wait... I'm leaving tonight, I just came here to look at you before I leave."

The revelation hits me like a slap. "So this whole time you were just playing games?"

"I had a feeling you'd refuse me." His thumb brushes across my knuckles. "Dabe, I love you, and if staying with him is what you truly want, I'd respect that. Thanks to our son, I get to see you once in a while – that's enough to keep me alive." His fingers brush my chin, and I hate how my skin tingles at his touch, "If he hurts you, I'd kill him."

Nico comes running over, his shoes covered in sand, saving me from having to respond. "Goodbye, Andrew," I manage to say, taking Nico's small hand in mine. As we walk away, I can feel Andrew's eyes following us, and my heart does that familiar dance it's been doing for twenty years – that bittersweet ache of what-ifs and might-have-been.

Nico chatters about his sandcastle as we head toward the car, but my mind is elsewhere. We have a son together, I think, feeling the weight of that truth. There's never going to be a real goodbye. Even though I thought I made myself clear today, I know better. Our story is written in Nico's smile, in his laugh, in the way he furrows his brow just like his father.

As I buckle Nico into his car seat, my phone buzzes. It's Christian: "Come home."

I stare at the message for a long moment, feeling the complexity of my life pressing in from all sides. Behind us, I hear the distant sound of children playing, of life moving forward, of choices being made and unmade. I take a deep breath and start the car, leaving the park – and Andrew – behind, at least for today.

The setting sun catches in my rearview mirror, and I glance at Nico, already dozing in his car seat. Sometimes the right choice isn't the easy one, I remind myself. Sometimes love isn't about passion or history – it's about choosing peace, choosing growth, choosing to break cycles instead of hearts.

My phone buzzes again with another message from Christian and this time, I feel ready to answer. Ready to fight for something real, something sustainable. Ready to choose the kind of love that builds rather than burns.