I was an idiot...

I was an idiot...


Ethan

I spent the whole morning with my head in a knot. I left home thinking I'd be able to work normally, but as soon as I closed the car door, it hit me in the most painful way possible: I had been an idiot with Diana.

My wife.

The woman I love more than anything.

The woman who just told me she's pregnant with our child… and I managed to react like a complete imbecile.

I kept reliving the scene a thousand times in my head. There she was, all nervous, all fragile in her own way, telling me something that should have been received with joy… and I was overcome by fear. Fear of losing her again. Fear of hurting her. Fear of everything going wrong. Fear of not knowing how to protect her this time.

And fear made me rude.

Made me cold.

Made me talk to her as if it were her fault.

The more I thought about it, the more shame I felt. A weight on my chest, you know? It felt like a hand was holding my heart and squeezing it slowly.

At the office, I was completely unproductive. I signed papers without reading them. I answered meetings without even knowing what I said. I could only think about how sad her eyes looked when I backed down. As if she had done something wrong. And she didn't. Not at all.

I did.

And it hurt. It hurt to remember the day we lost the baby. It hurt to remember the despair I felt. And it hurt to realize that, instead of learning to be gentler, I've become someone who reacts harshly when scared.

And I don't want to be that man for her.

Or for our child.

So, around mid-afternoon, I dropped everything. Literally dropped it. I got up in the middle of a meeting, said "I need to go," and left everyone looking at me, confused. I left the building with my head spinning, but with only one focus: to fix what I did.

I stopped at a giant flower shop, one of those that seems to have flowers from all over the world. The girl asked me, “How many roses would you like?” I answered without thinking:

— All that will fit in a bouquet.

She laughed. I didn't. I was serious.

I wanted Diana to receive that and understand without me needing a pretty speech: I was sorry. And I loved her. And I was happy, yes, I was just too scared to admit it at the time.

When she appeared with a bouquet bigger than my head, I thought, “Good, let's start here.”

But it didn't stop there.

I saw a giant teddy bear in the corner. One of those almost my size. And I thought: “She's going to laugh at this.” And I wanted to see her laughing. Really. Not that forced smile she gives when she's trying not to show she's hurt.

So I bought the bear too.

And I went back home.

The way there was a mix of anxiety, guilt, and hope. I kept rehearsing what to say, but it all sounded silly. Nothing seemed enough. And at the same time… maybe she just needed me to show up. For me to try. For me to admit I was wrong.

When I got into the elevator, my hands were sweating. Ridiculous, right? Me, the guy who faces counseling, court, crisis, threats, explosions, police chases… and I'm sweating to apologize to my own wife.

But that's it.

She affects me like that.

When the apartment door opened, she was in the living room. Sitting on the sofa, with such a… quiet face. So hurt, even trying to hide it.

And when she saw me with the giant bouquet and the enormous teddy bear almost swallowing me whole, her eyes widened. She put her hand to her mouth and stared as if she didn't understand what was happening.

I felt a relief that almost broke me.

I dropped everything on the floor—the bear even made a funny "puff" sound—and went to her. — Diana… — my voice came out low, almost broken. — I was an idiot.

She blinked slowly, as if processing.

Her mouth trembled slightly, but she tried to hold it back. She always tries.

— Ethan… — she murmured very softly. — You scared me.

It hit me in a way I can't even explain.

I sat beside her and held her hands, terrified she would pull away. But she let me.

— I shouldn't have reacted that way. — I said quickly, before my courage evaporated. — I'm scared, Diana. Very scared. I don't want to lose you. I don't want to go through that again. But that doesn't justify treating you that way. You don't deserve that. Never.

She took a deep breath, her eyes filled with tears.

— I thought you didn't want to… — she said, and her voice faltered.

— I do. — I said without thinking. "I want this baby with you. I want our family. I just freeze when I remember what happened. But I promise… I really promise… that I'll do things differently this time. I'll be by your side through everything. I'll be better. I'll protect you without suffocating you. I just…" I sighed. "Just forgive me."

She looked at me for a few seconds that felt like hours. And then she simply fell against my chest, hugging me tightly. She almost took my breath away.

And I swear… I felt a weight lift from inside me.

She cried. I did too, but I hid it in her hair because I'm too proud to admit I cried like an idiot.

"I love you," she said softly.

"I love you."

"More," I replied, patting her back.

When she stepped back, she saw the bear and giggled.

"Ethan… this is bigger than me," she laughed, wiping her face.

"It's supposed to be," I said. "It represents the size of my regret."

She laughed harder this time, and I felt my whole body relax. That's what I wanted to see.

Her laughter.

Her glow returning.

Her happiness.

Her peace.

She picked up the bouquet and smelled the roses, with that loving look that makes me crumble inside.

"Thank you…" she murmured. "Truly."

I pulled her onto my lap and stayed there hugging her, smelling her scent, feeling her breathe, feeling the calm returning to both of us. I didn't want to let go.

And, at that moment, it finally hit me:

I was going to be a father.

Diana was going to be a mother.

We were going to have a family.

And I was going to fight like a madman to be the man she deserves.

And the father that child deserves, too.