Chapter 38 038
HER breath hitched the moment her eyes landed on him. Her husband stood there in all his glory, rich, handsome, hot, well-built, muscled, fresh. A gentleman, through and through. His head was lowered, his broad shoulders slightly slouched, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets as he leaned against the wall. Slowly, deliberately, Adrian raised his head, and their eyes locked.
“It has been four days, Amelia,” he began, his baritone voice rich and enticing, carrying both weariness and command. “You have barely said a word to me. How long would this continue?”
Amelia smoothed her hair back, her expression unreadable. She leaned lazily against the doorframe, matching his stance, her silence louder than any words. Finally, she replied, calm but firm.
“For as long as I feel like.”
Adrian pushed himself off the wall and closed the small distance between them. His eyes searched hers, desperate yet tinged with frustration.
“So, that is it? Huh?” He asked, “I missed one family event, and you are acting like I abandoned the family.”
Amelia let out a scoff, her lips curving into a humorless smile.
“It wasn’t one event, Adrian. It was her moment. Her one moment. The least you could do was show up—”
“But I said I was sorry,” he cut in quickly, almost pleading. “I had other things going on for me. I’m doing my best.”
Her gaze hardened, her voice rising.
“Babe? Things will always be going on. But your presence matters. Yes, you want to be praised, termed a hero, for doing things you are supposed to do. You provide, yes, I agree. But providing cannot just be all.”
Adrian’s eyes remained locked on hers, his jaw clenched, but he listened, intently, almost defensively.
Amelia pressed on, her voice trembling but strong.
“Adrian, one child. Just one child, and yet you can’t make out the time to always show up when it matters? No.”
Something inside him snapped. His voice grew low, almost bitter.
“You know… nothing is ever enough for you.”
Her countenance shifted, pain flickering across her face. She exhaled slowly, shaking her head.
“No, Adrian. The truth is, you just don’t want to be held accountable. You want to be praised for doing the bare minimum. You want me to stay quiet, smiling, playing the grateful wife, while you show up when it suits you. You avoid, you deflect, but one thing you don’t do…” She paused, her eyes softening with resignation. “Is change.”
The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Adrian stood rooted, watching her as though the ground beneath him had given way. Amelia’s eyes lingered on him one last time before she turned and walked away, her steps calm but decisive.
He slowly turned after her, but the door had already clicked shut behind her. Left standing in the tension-filled air, Adrian let out a sharp breath.
Then, a soft voice broke the silence.
“Daddy?”
He turned, and there sat Hazel at the dresser, her tiny hands gripping a paintbrush, streaks of color already spread across the canvas before her. Her wide eyes blinked up at him, innocent yet worried.
“Is Mommy still angry?” she asked softly.
Adrian forced a smile, crouching slightly, though the heaviness in his chest remained.
“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. Then he sighed deeply. “Yes, sweetheart… but she will be fine.”
Hazel tilted her head, her brush stilled in her hand, as if she understood more than he wanted her to. Adrian’s heart sank further. He stood again, staring at the empty doorway where Amelia had disappeared, his sigh echoing the weight of a man torn between pride, guilt, and regret.
The mall buzzed with life the next afternoon, children dragging their mothers toward the toy section, couples holding hands, the scent of roasted snacks wafting from the food court. Amelia and Clara strolled side by side, shopping bags hanging from their arms. They had just stepped out of a clothing store and were now moving leisurely through the aisles, their voices low but firm, the way only close friends confide in one another.
Amelia exhaled sharply, shaking her head.
“Clara, I’m tired. Adrian refuses to acknowledge the fact that he was wrong. Instead, all he keeps saying is, ‘I provide. I pay the bills. I do everything.’ As though that cancels everything else out.”
Clara gave a bitter laugh.
“That is exactly how Leonard is. Same song, different man. Providing is all they think matters. As if companionship, presence, or even respect don’t count.”
Amelia glanced at her.
“But you— how are things between you two now?”
Clara hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line.
“I have stopped sleeping with him.”
Amelia froze mid-step, turning to her friend in shock.
“What!”
Clara shrugged, unfazed.
“Of course, I did.”
“Has it gotten up to that extent?” Amelia asked, her voice laced with disbelief.
“Yes.” Clara nodded, her face calm but her eyes shadowed with hurt. “Sometimes, a woman decides it is time to let things go, and she does so. I’m not giving him that access anymore. Not after everything.”
Amelia shook her head slowly, her heart aching for her friend.
“Clara, that is… that is a lot.”
“You know what he told me?” Clara continued, her tone tinged with sarcasm. “He said I should be grateful that he is not bringing home girls who would fight me off over a man.”
Amelia’s eyes widened, her jaw dropping slightly.
“That you should be grateful?” she repeated, utterly shocked.
“Mm mm.” Clara nodded firmly, her lips tightening. “And when I compared him to Adrian—” she paused, bitterness creeping into her smile, “—he said, and I quote, ‘Adrian is not innocent. I’m even better.’”
This drew Amelia’s full attention. She stopped walking, turning completely toward Clara, her brows knitting together, a crease forming between them.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice lower now, sharper, the curiosity undeniable.