Chapter 3: Family Drama

Liam POV

The intensity of my thoughts felt like a blade scraping against my skull. I rubbed my forehead, struggling to concentrate, but it was nearly impossible. The board meeting was just an hour away, and I still needed to finalize the presentation and prepare myself. Yet, my mind was consumed by thoughts of Daniella.

She had left early this morning, as she always did. I barely noticed her quiet footsteps and the soft rustle of the blankets when she got out of bed. Now, at 7 AM, the kitchen was devoid of her presence. I had anticipated breakfast would be ready by now—perhaps a steaming cup of coffee, some toast, or eggs.

Where could she be?

I checked the time on my phone again. 7:05. That was late, even for Daniella. She was usually up before me, always handling the small details of our routine, like preparing breakfast. I figured she might be busy in the kitchen, so I decided to investigate.

I swung my legs off the bed, feeling the cold floor beneath my feet. The house was eerily quiet, and it was starting to unsettle me. My stomach growled, a reminder of how desperately I needed food.

I opened the door, letting the cool morning air sweep past me, and headed to the living room. There was no sound—no clattering of pots or the whir of the coffee machine. Maybe she was still in the kitchen. I turned the corner and stopped in my tracks.

The kitchen was empty. No sign of breakfast preparation whatsoever.

What on earth?

I entered, my heart starting to race. She wasn’t in the living room or anywhere else I could see. I couldn’t understand why she was avoiding the kitchen or why she hadn’t come to check on me. I had anticipated at least a cup of coffee or a quick kiss goodbye before heading to work. But instead... nothing.

I felt irritation bubbling up inside me. This wasn’t typical of her. My patience was wearing thin. What could be so important that it kept her occupied?

"Maybe she’s in the bathroom," I said quietly, attempting to suppress my growing frustration.

I approached the bathroom door and knocked softly. There was no answer. After a moment, I turned the handle. It creaked open, revealing her at the vanity, focused on the mirror as she painted her nails.

I paused, trying to comprehend the scene. She was completely engrossed in her reflection, as if I didn’t exist. Her nails were a delicate pink, shining as she meticulously applied the polish. No rush. No urgency.

“Daniella?” I called out, my voice strained as I tried to keep it light. “You’re supposed to be making breakfast.”

She didn’t even glance up. “Uh-huh,” she replied, sounding as if she hadn’t heard me at all.

I walked into the bathroom, my frustration boiling over. “You’ve been awake for hours, and there’s no breakfast. What are you doing?”

She glanced at me through the mirror, then returned her focus to her nails, completely unfazed. “I’m doing my nails, Liam,” she replied, her voice calm and almost indifferent. “I can’t go into the kitchen while I’m busy with this.”

I stared at her, struggling to process her words. “Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed, placing my hands on my hips. “You’re telling me you’re just sitting here doing your nails while I’m left to starve?”

A small, teasing smile appeared on her lips, as if she found this amusing. “It’s not like I wanted to ruin them,” she said, flicking her wrist to highlight the importance of her task. “I can’t just mess around in the kitchen while I’m focused on something this crucial.”

My anger surged. Important? “You think your nails take precedence over feeding me, Daniella?” My voice sharpened, irritation seeping through.

She paused, her hand suspended in the air, her expression shifting to mild annoyance, yet she remained where she was. “I’m sorry, Liam, but I’m not going to drop everything just to serve you. I have my own priorities, you know.”

“Priorities?” I repeated, incredulous. “Your priorities involve sitting here doing your nails while I’m trying to get ready for work? I’ve been waiting for breakfast, Daniella, and now I’m running late.”

She slightly angled her head to meet my reflection in the mirror. “I’m not merely sitting here idly. I am also preparing for my day.”

The warmth in my chest grew more intense. I moved closer, reducing the distance between us, my voice tinged with irritation. “Preparing? You are not preparing. You are evading everything else. You are avoiding me, breakfast, and the reality of the situation.”

She placed her hand on the vanity, her nails immaculate, untouched by the disorder surrounding her. “I am not evading anything, Liam. I simply do not wish to go to the kitchen at this moment. It is really that straightforward.”

“That is absurd,” I retorted. “You are treating this as if it were a trivial matter. I am trying to concentrate and accomplish tasks, but no—Daniella is too preoccupied with her nails to care about anything else. You have been avoiding me for days. Can’t you recognize that?”

She stood up slowly, turning to face me. There was a newfound intensity in her eyes—a spark that had been absent moments earlier. “I am not the one avoiding Liam,” she said, her voice low yet cutting. “Perhaps I am simply tired of doing everything for you while you remain unaware. Perhaps I am weary of consistently placing your needs above my own.”

I looked at her, taken aback by her words, but my anger still simmered. “You think I don’t notice?” I asked, my voice trembling with disbelief. “You think I’m blind to everything you do? What’s going on, Daniella? You can’t even make me breakfast anymore, yet you expect me to see all the little things?”

Her lips twisted into a mocking smile. “Oh, I’m sure you notice whatever suits you, Liam. Just like you always do.”

I stepped back, my chest tightening as I tried to grasp her meaning. “What does that even mean?”

She advanced a step, closing the distance between us, her voice calm but laced with bitterness. “It means you’re selfish, Liam. You only pay attention when it benefits you. And you expect me to meet your needs without ever considering mine.”

The words struck me hard, like a slap to the face, but I wasn’t finished. “I’m selfish?” I shot back, stepping closer. “You’re the one who can’t see past your own reflection.”

Her eyes darkened. “Maybe I just need more than what you’re offering,” she replied, her voice laced with anger.

“More?” I retorted. “What else do you want from me? What more can I give?”

She crossed her arms, her face flushed with rage. “I don’t want anything from you anymore.”

I stood there, paralyzed. For a moment, silence enveloped us. The tension in the air was palpable, crackling like electricity.

Then, she locked eyes with me, her expression twisted in disdain. “You’re impotent, Liam,” she whispered, but the sharpness of her words pierced me deeply.

In a flash, my hand moved instinctively, anger and frustration pouring out. My palm struck her cheek with a loud slap, the sound reverberating in the bathroom.

Her eyes widened in disbelief, her hand flying to her face, but I couldn’t undo what I had just done. The room felt frozen, my breath shallow, the weight of reality crashing down on me.

All I could do was stare at her.