24

France.

The suitcases were already in a room.

And I remained absorbed in the news of my pregnant wife, even though weeks had passed since I found out.

I should have come to terms with it, but my mind had a cruel way of telling me that this is my fault.

I told her from the very beginning that I didn't want children.

What if she did want them?

I was selfish. I didn't take her feelings, desires, and aspirations into account.

She agreed to the contract from the start.

She needed the money. But was that enough to set aside her dream of being a mother?

A dream that I couldn't fulfill, so she had to seek it elsewhere.

A child.

I didn't understand those men's desire to be fathers until I found out everything.

For a moment, I envied that idiot.

"Michelle," I mutter in a growl. "Damn it, why did you do this to us?"

Part of me believes that if she had told me. If she had just told me, things would be different.

She would be expecting my child, and I would be so in love with her, as I am now, that I would have accepted it.

I would have accepted it without any problems. Even if she doesn't want me in her life anymore. Even if she thinks I don't love her.

I would have accepted it simply because it's her.

It's her.

And nothing about her would be a mistake.

I snort, letting out a small laugh.

The memory of our secret "wedding" makes me smile faintly. She was so damn beautiful, even in jeans, and incredibly nervous when signing the contract. So damn shy and oblivious to the fact that I had my eyes on her.

She always has been and always will be her.

And all of this because of a contract and saving a company.

Who would have imagined that librarian would become my downfall two months after signing?

Damn it, I thought it would just be an attraction. She felt it too.

I noticed it. I watched her. I observed her.

Although, yes, I used work as an excuse to spend as little time as possible in the mansion.

To not be alone with her.

And all of those things were useless because, in the end, what had to happen happened. And not just once.

Every time it happened, I ended up wanting more and more of her.

She didn't fulfill me. I wanted her near me every second. The office became a torment where I only counted the minutes to leave and be with her.

Coming home had never seemed so exciting, but that adrenaline, that excitement, that strong desire to return only existed because she was there. Waiting for me.

Michelle was my place.

"Arthur?" I turn to the stairs, wiping my eyes.

"Father," I clear my throat.

He looks at me in silence, with the seriousness that characterizes him and the calmness that makes me impatient. He approaches slowly but confidently. Only jeans and a polo make up his outfit. It's so damn strange to see him in that kind of clothing, but despite that, I was starting to get used to it.

"Who is she?" I furrow my brows.

I wake up, approaching the drinks that are always available. I grab a glass to take a sip and try to figure out what to do with everything I'm feeling.

Harold let me know days ago that the news of my accident hasn't spread anywhere until now. The best thing I did was unexpectedly travel to my home country.

Everyone thinks I'm traveling for work when I'm only doing it to avoid thinking about her.

"Who's who?" I question, taking another one.

"Just one more and leave the glass. I don't want a repeat of what happened a few years ago."

"It was only seven drinks."

"That's more than enough."

I leave the glass in its place, sit on the couch, and my father joins me. The house feels so empty and lonely.

I visualize myself entering my mansion's door at night, tired, only to eat alone at a giant table.

A meal that slowly cools down because my appetite is minuscule.

"The nightmares have returned," I announce, looking attentively at the ceiling. "I keep dreaming about her."

"I thought therapy had helped you with that," he adjusts himself in his seat.

I make a downcast face.

"It did. It helped me realize it wasn't my fault."

"Then what causes your nightmares?"

"That once again the people I care about leave me," I smile bitterly.

I shake my head, resting my elbows on my thighs. I hide my face in my hands while messing up my hair even more.

"Arthur, if you don't explain, I can't help you."

I gaze at his face, his expression softens when he notices my completely red and teary eyes. A small smile appears on his lips, and for a moment, I see the loving father I had in my childhood.

"I loved her. I loved her so much, and she decided to leave me. And now she... she's happy with someone else."

"Who, Arthur?"

I shake my head as I stand up. He and Mom know nothing about Michelle, and telling them right now is neither convenient nor serves any purpose. I pat my jeans, searching for my cell phone in my pockets when it starts ringing, but I can't find it.

Where the hell is the damn device?

"Damn it!" I shout in an irritated impulse.

"Arthur Müller!"

I turn my body towards him. He extends his hand where the cursed object lies. I reluctantly take it.

"Thanks."

I swallow hard, his arms cling to my neck with longing. I feel my lips trembling against the warmth of my father's body and his perfume, filled with memories, floods back to me.

I blink, aware of the embrace, and decide to embrace it.

"Leonore made her decision. You couldn't hold her back, Arthur. Think for a moment, do you think she would have been happy here?"

"I can't make someone happy by my side."

"You can't make someone miserable by your side," he corrects me, holding my cheeks in his palms as if he wants to make me understand once and for all. "That's why you decide to leave or make them leave. Because more than anyone, you know that where you don't fit, you can't shrink."

He shows me a small smile before leaving a kiss on my cheek. I gulp as he whispers, "I'm proud of you." My eyes burn, and I have to blink three times in a row to push away the tears. After a few minutes, I realize he's gone, leaving me alone in the living room of my old house. The cell phone in my hands vibrates again, and I sit on the stairs to answer my sister's call eagerly.