Chapter 95.

Chapter 95.
Andria.

The way Adrian looks at me, it’s as if he’s seen a ghost. I grow concerned at the haunted look in his eyes. He attempts to mask it, but it’s obvious in his rigid posture. In his tight facial expression.

“Why? Why do you hate any mention of a baby? We can’t just be together alone. We need a family. We’re married. I need a family. I need mini us.” I'm hysterical. 

A low growl escapes Adrian’s throat, as he rakes his hands through his hair. He turns a hard glare to me. His lips pulled in a tight line. 

“Not this, Andria. We don’t need this now.” He groans in protest.

I walk towards him and hold his face in my palms. He pulls away, like my very touch burns him. That hurts. 

“Adrian. Tell me why the very talk of us having a family repulses you. There must be a reason, because I can’t…I can’t do this. Live without a baby…” 

“Then if you can’t, you should prepare to be miserable forever. Because you would never have a baby from me, Andria. Never.” He resolutely declares.

The resolve in his voice. The stern look in his unblinking eyes, I shake inwardly. He throws one last look at me, before he storms out of the kitchen, leaving me alone to the embers of our passionate love making, moments ago. 

I sink to the cold floor. All the excitement from earlier vanishes. Only disappointment and hurt remains. I clutch myself, crying deeply. The weight of my situation sags me heavily. I palm my mouth, suppressing the wail that threatens to erupt in my throat. 

My body shudders with pain. The fact that Adrian would never love me enough to give me a part of him, is crushing. It kills me from inside. I free fall in my own agony and nothing braces me from the fall. 

 
Adrian. 

Regret eats deep inside me as I sit inside one of the rooms. If I could drink, I would have drowned my sorrow in alcohol. But I can’t. I can only bear my pain. The hurt look in Andria is one I would never be able to erase from my mind in a million years. 

Even if I take out my heart, it would forever remain. 

I hold onto the moans and the cries of our sweet passion together. Letting it guide me out of the abyss of sorrow that I’ve fallen into. It’s easier this way.

Having her, letting her have me. But without any offspring. Bringing an offspring to fulfill her need for motherhood, would lead to her death; would lead to our offspring’s death. I wouldn’t want that. 

In these last few days, I’ve grown used to Andria. She’s become a part of me. It’s like my entire breath is centered around her. It’s like her every existence surrounds me. Her scent is my drug. Her blood, my essence. When I look in her eyes, I see her truth. I see her pain. In her eyes, I see our entire world. 

And I want to have that world she offers. I want to bask in the peace her presence gives. But at what cost? At the cost of her life; at the cost of our offspring?

I’ve been here for hours and I wonder if she’s asleep. I wonder if she’s had anything to eat. I ruined the entire mood for us tonight.

I rise to my feet and go in search of Andria. I search the kitchen and find it empty. I eventually find her in our bedroom, clutching herself in bed. Seeing her in this miserable state, pain fills my heart. I know she hasn’t eaten, so I go into the kitchen and prepare her something to eat. 

When I return, I join her on the bed. I prepared some spaghetti with the sauce she made. She sees me and turns the other way. I feel her sadness and I hear her quiet sobs. It saddens me, seeing her this hurt. But I have to tell her the honest truth. 

“You have to eat Andria. You can’t hold onto grief. You’d get sick. I’m sorry that I said that to you. I had to tell you the truth.” I ruefully admit.

She sobs again. I drop the food and lie down with her. She tries to shift away from me, but I hold her back. Andria breaks down in harsh sobs as I hold her. 

“You’d just have to accept me the way that I am. Because the truth is I can give you the entire world, but I wouldn’t be able to give you any children. It would cost you more than you can imagine.” 

 
Andria.
New York.
Thursday, 26th March. Two days later…

It’s been two days since we had that fight. Since then, we haven’t had any fights. I’ve actually been careful to broach any trigger topics. I have many questions I want to ask him, like the picture I saw in the library. But I don’t ask. I prefer the peace the way it is. 

Tonight we’re strolling at the pier. The water makes those beautiful sounds it makes, when the wind picks up. It's very nostalgic, hearing the sounds. It reminds me of when I was younger and my parents used to carry me to the beach. 

“I used to love the water as a child. Mum always took me to the beach, whenever I was in a sour mood.” I tell him.

We’re holding hands and he squeezes my hand in his. He gives a light chuckle and I like the sound. Unable to resist, I ask him about his own childhood. Anything that can help me connect with him. 

“My childhood…” He’s about to speak, when his phone rings.

He answers it. 

And when he does, his face turns stone cold. Whatever the other person says, it must be really grave for Adrian’s expression to turn to stone.