Patrick I'm on the phone with my wife. She called me up, asking if I'm free today when she knew damn well I'm not. "I wanna see you too, but I can't right now. We're really occupied with the stage production and other technicalities." I quickly explained as I waved off one of the the staff that was signalling for me to come on the other side of the stage to pick out the guitars that we will be using. "Je suis désolé, mon amour." (I'm sorry, my love.)
Y/N sighed. "It's;" she paused, "I understand, love. I'm sorry I've been pushing my luck with you today," she apologized with guilt laced in the tone of her voice.
"There's no problem with that." I said as I started walking across the stage, "Aren't you supposed to be with your clients though?"
"Yeah, but I decided to cancel, which was fine for them. I just had the urge to spend this day with you, since we're busy most of the time- we're barely together except when we go to bed."
"You really cancelled your entire meetings for today just for me?" Shit. I can't let her down, but at the same time I also can't bail on today's soundcheck. We're having our live show tomorrow and heck did she forget about that?
"Wait, I've been telling you about our tomorrow's live show; how could you forget?" I asked, getting quite annoyed at the thought of her doing this on purpose so she can guilttrip me.
"I remember that, of course. You know I have moments, acting on impulses at a bad time. This is one of those moments." Y/N explained to me, in a dragging lazy tone of voice as if she doesn't want to explain herself any further.
I also don't wanna go further with this conversation anymore. I know that she knows that I'm going to be busy and yet she still pulled a stunt like this one. I'm tired. "I'll talk to you later, 'kay?"
"Don't bother." Y/N said and then ended the call.
⛈
Y/N I woke up to my phone alarm at four in the morning and my head felt heavy, loud, and ringing with the stress of today's work. I'll be having an overseas video call conference with one of my clients and I obviously can't just sleep it off, but what makes going out of bed a little harder for me is my husband's arm resting across my chest and his leg resting and 90 degrees bent on my stomach.
I could just push him off of me, but that only makes him tightly wrap himself around me, which I find to be really sweet that his body responds like that naturally to me, but right now it's far from anything sweet. If anything, it's making me late.
I frustratingly sighed and then heard a muffled, deep-voiced chuckle. "You're not going anywhere. I just got on bed." Patrick playfully whined, nuzzling his face in the crook of my neck.
I chuckled, but mostly I'm concerned about the time. "Love, I have an online appointment with one of my clients overseas. I can't bail on this one. I'm sorry."
I felt him let out a big sigh, his warm breath and the tips of his beard tickling my neck. I close my eyes from the sensation. "At least stay until I fall asleep." He softly spoke and pressed a soft kiss on my neck.
"I can't, love. I'm sorry."
Patrick groaned and moved away from me, rolling to the other side of the bed.
I quickly got out of our bed and out of our room, not looking back, because if I did look back, I'd drop everything for him and not look back on where I'm supposed to be headed now. I'm just getting started with my own café and cosmetics business and all's been well.
This isn't the time for me to look back at him and drop everything. I can't afford to do that right now.
⛈
Patrick It was Valentine's day and it literally slipped out of my head had I not passed by several stores selling heart-shaped products. I did not even greet my wife a happy Valentine's day. Maybe that's why she was a bit off before we left for our respective work.
I passed by a donut shop and they have a last remaining heart-shaped donut with red frosting that's coatiymg the top and a thin line of pink frosting that serves as a boarder for the heart. It also has one pump of swirled whipped cream, in the corner, with a flat white heart-shaped candy on it with "mon amour" written in a cursive red font, which makes it perfect, since it's very much Valentines themed and my endearment to her is written there. This one was meant for her.
I did buy it and one stem of bloomed red rose from a vendor just outside the donut shop and proceeded to driving home.
//timeskip//
I got back home to no one, just the darkness and the emptiness of the house. My wife's car isn't in our garage yet. Y/N hasn't even messaged me about coming home late. Maybe it's her bumper to bumper workload.
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//timeskip//
Hours have passed, the night only grew older, bluer, and colder, and Y/N hasn't come home yet.
No text messages nor calls have been returned and I've been worried sick about Y/N. I've called my friends and hers and found out that she took a flight this morning to a farther city for an immediate meeting. I was too tired and sad to bother myself thinking about her running away with someone else.
This morning was very silent and cold. She didn't even woke me up or kissed me once. I barely caught up with her eating breakfast. I tried talking to her, but she didn't even look at me. It was like I wasn't there. I wonder if I woke up in a different dimension where I'm just a ghost.
No, I'm just living in a cold and bitter moment that I wish I could just sleep away. Right. Maybe if I wake up the next day, she'll be downstairs, cooking breakfast for two. I scoffed and shook my head sideways. Who am I kidding. There's clearly a conflict between us and the more we don't talk about it, the longer that none of us breaks the tension, the worse and the bigger it gets like a damn blackhole.
I put the donut box in the fridge and grabbed a tall glass of water and put the stem of rose in it, displaying it in the center part of the kitchen island.
I shut off the main lights, leaving the small warm yellow and orange ones on and climbed upstairs, silently wishing that she's on our bed, fast asleep.
Of course, she isn't there.
I wish I lived in my head where Y/N's there instead of this awful reality where she's all sorts of absent.
