Broken Heart

55 Miserable? Helpless?

Kevin's POV

Four years. Four years since that first fateful encounter with David, four years since my life irrevocably changed, four years since I fell in love with a man who challenged me, inspired me, and, I believed, loved me with the same intensity. The recent argument with David, the one that dredged up the past and laid bare the lingering distrust that festered beneath the surface of our marriage, had left a chasm between us, but it was a chasm I desperately wanted to bridge.

I had done what I thought was necessary. I had severed all ties with Rose. She returned to her pack, her presence a constant reminder of a past I desperately wanted to destroy. I had hoped that my actions, my unwavering devotion to David, my constant reassurance of my love, would be enough to heal the rift, to mend the fragile trust that had been shattered.

But the tension in our home was a palpable thing, a heavy weight that settled over every interaction, every shared glance, every attempt at normalcy. We went through the motions of a married couple, sharing a bed, raising our children, fulfilling our duties as Alpha and Luna. But the easy intimacy, the effortless connection that had once defined us, was strained.

The passion was still there, a simmering undercurrent, but it was often overshadowed by a fragile, almost hesitant quality.

My boys, Ethan and Evan, now boisterous and energetic young pups, sensed the unease between us. They became quieter around me, their playful energy somewhat dampened in my presence. They still loved me fiercely, I knew that, but there was a distance, a subtle withdrawal, born of a desire to protect their Dada, to avoid any further conflict. It was a painful reminder of the delicate balance we were trying to maintain.

My girls, Mia and Selene, my beautiful, strong-willed daughters, were my solace. They were the ones who sought me out, who clung to my side, who filled the silence with their laughter and chatter. They were too young to fully understand the complexities of adult relationships, but they felt the undercurrent of emotion, and they instinctively gravitated towards me, seeking comfort and reassurance. They reminded me of David's strength and resilience, and I cherished their unwavering love.

David and I were... careful. We spoke when necessary, coordinating schedules, discussing the children, fulfilling our obligations. But I made sure to tell him I loved him, every chance I got, and he, in turn, would say it back, his voice sometimes hesitant, sometimes filled with a longing that mirrored my own. I saw the effort he was making, the struggle to reconcile his love for me with his lingering doubts. I so desperately wanted to help him.

One day, I returned to the mansion after a long and grueling day of pack meeting for tomorrow's battle. I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, yearning for the comfort of my home, the warmth of my family. I entered the living room, expecting to find David and the children, but the room was empty.

I spent some time with my kids first. Ethan and Evan were playing a game, their youthful energy a stark contrast to the weariness that clung to me. I watched them for a while, a bittersweet ache in my heart. I missed the uncomplicated joy of those early days. Mia and Selene ran to me, their small arms wrapping around my legs, their faces beaming with delight. I knelt down and hugged them tightly, burying my face in their soft hair, drawing strength from their innocent love.

After spending some time with kids, I made my way towards our room. I needed to see David, to be near him, to remind myself that the love we shared was still there, even if it was buried beneath layers of doubt and fear. As I approached the door, I heard his voice, a low, urgent murmur.

I hesitated, my hand on the doorknob. It was a private conversation, and I knew I shouldn't eavesdrop. But something compelled me to listen, a sense of foreboding that I couldn't ignore, a desperate need to know what he was truly feeling.

"...how miserable and helpless I feel in this marriage..."

The words hit me with the force of a physical blow, a punch to the gut that stole my breath and shattered my world. I froze, my hand still on the doorknob, my ears ringing with the sound of his voice, his words echoing in the silence of the hallway.

I didn't hear anything else. I couldn't. Those few words were enough to send my world crashing down around me. Miserable? Helpless? Was that how he felt? In our marriage? The marriage I had fought so hard for, the marriage I had dedicated my life to?

The pain wasn't just for myself. It was for David. To think of him, the strong, vibrant man I loved, feeling miserable and helpless broke my heart in a way I couldn't have imagined. Had I failed him completely? Had I been so blind to his suffering?

A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, a chaotic jumble of guilt, confusion, and a desperate need to understand. Was it still about Rose? Was it something else entirely? Had I somehow driven him away without even realizing it?

I couldn't stay. Not then. Not with those words echoing in my ears, a constant, agonizing reminder of the pain he was enduring. I turned away from the door, my legs moving on their own, my body numb, my soul shattered. I walked out of the mansion, out of our home, out of the life I thought we had built together, needing to escape the crushing weight of his words.