August fifteen. My eyes narrow at the digits circled in red ink on my phone screen. Is Josh right? Sinking my teeth into my lip, I contemplate redialing his number. Brandon's birthday is on the fifteenth, tomorrow, not the fourteenth like Josh was kind enough to point out. My hand grows clammy, I rub it on my nightgown and spare Brandon a look.
Sprawled on the bed with his head buried into the pillow, fast asleep like a child and oblivious to my confusion. A pang of jealousy shoots through me when he rolls onto his stomach and hides his face in the pillow. It will be a while before I can sleep on my back or stomach. Contrary to what the doctor said, I cannot get used to sleeping on my side.
Maybe in a few more weeks, I might adjust to it, now, it’s a punishment. Sleeping on my back feels like a luxury I abused, every position is comfortable long enough for me to get tired and upset. They should have asked questions, told me the nitty-gritty in
Be still, dear heart but it clenches painfully I lose my breath. He hates me. He hates us.Too weak to walk to the light switch, I welcome the brightness pouring down on me as I shift into a sleeping position. It takes him less than a minute to spoon me, I stiffen in his arms until he cups my breast and I relax. I hate how he uses my body against me. He can sleep facing the other side of the wall for all I care. Maybe not. I love his arm around me."Did she really kick?" he whispers into my ear and I let his question float in the air until he coughs. His hand lowers to my stomach, a finger pokes my belly button, I giggle."No," I say. I am grateful he doesn't stop his movements on my stomach. And my breath hitches as my feelings crash over me. "But she doesn't like it when you are mad at me."Planting a kiss behind my ear, he says, "I'm not mad." He buries his head in the crook of my neck, my fingertips caress his c
Counting doesn't work. Walking also fails. Sleep has fled from me. I retire to the bed, lying on my side while staring wide-eyed into the darkness with the cover tucked under my chin. We have had our quarrels but I never had to sleep alone when he is around.Tears silently roll down my cheeks, I stiffen when the cover is lifted and a firm chest presses into my back. I maintain my frigidity when he spoons me, placing a hand on my hip. Soaking the pillow with my tears, I dig my nails into my palm to stop from sniffing. Brandon doesn't need to know how much his actions hurt me, he is a terrible husband.Thankful for the darkness hiding my face when his fingers brush my wet cheek, I freeze. "Wifey, stop crying. It's not good for our baby." He wipes my residue tears. "El, please.""You left me."Breathing heavily on my neck, Brandon leans over to place a kiss on my forehead. And I have to squeeze my eyes shut to rein my
Crooked hair. Plump lips. Tousled hair falling over closed eyelids, hand tucked under the pillow. Propping my chin on my palms, my head tilts to the side as I watch my husband sleep. His hand blindly reaches for the spot I once occupied, his lips pucker. One of his eyes pops open at the giggles coming from me and a smile lifts his lips as he stretches."Good morning, baby," I say and sweep his hair off his forehead. "How was your night?""Fine," he says as his eyes roam over me. He scoots to a sitting position, a frown replaces his smile. I throw my head back and my lips pucker. "What are you doing on the floor?"Stretching my hands, I mimic a bird in the sky. "Flying."Brandon scowls, I shrug. Someone has got something up their ass. Shaking my head, I stretch my hands to him and he kisses the back of my palms, then proceeds to kiss the insides. I need a proper kiss but for now, I reward him with a smile he reciproc
The blazer I hold against Brandon's torso doesn't suit him, I shake my head and return it to the wardrobe, walking back to him a while later with another jacket. An exercise we have been going at for fifteen long minutes. If the tensing of Brandon's shoulders and his pointed stare are signs to go by, he will snap soon. I want him to look his best, that's all.Joshua insisted I dressed nice but nice in a billionaire's vocabulary could mean a lot of things and I want his parent to have the best first impression of me. Other daughters-in-law have their husbands guidance on their choice of outfit, mannerisms yet here I am fussing over my husband and the meeting with his parents. They must think me a snub.I called them only once, to invite them for the dinner. They promised to keep in touch and they haven't, so, the blames can be equally distributed. The hand clamped on my wrist stops me from retreating to the wardrobe for another outfit. His mouth is p
The gazebo is deathly quiet and the tension promises to suffocate us. Everything is going well, if you count the curt greetings from Brandon's snobbish parents. Queen Elizabeth doesn't hold a candle to Brandon's mother with her prim and proper manners, wrinkles and white hair cropped short. All she needs is a crown and I'll genuflect before her.Brandon's dad is an older beardless version of him with thinning hair. He is so quiet, the kind of quiet that allows his haughty wife freedom to speak to people as she pleases. A minute after exchanging greetings and I can already tell it was a bad idea to invite them.Seated beside Brandon, muscles tight and frustrated at my lack of release, I drum my fingers on my legs hidden under the table. He didn't have to punish me this way. I am pregnant, he shouldn’t leave me horny. One look at him shows that's the least of his worries.He is as tensed as I am, maybe even more and a wave of gu
Josh catches up to me before I reach the house, he offers me a smile, I shrug. None of this is his fault. We take a seat by the kitchen window, staring at the trio seated inside the gazebo. From our position here, we can't see their lips moving but I can't help wishing they will start a conversation. Talk to each other even if it ends in a screaming bout."Do you think they will reconcile?"Josh snickers. He hops to the fridge like he pays rent and returns with a huge chunk of cake. The leftover I had saved to munch on later because I can't resist anything sugary and his family didn't let me enjoy it. Fleeting anger surges through me, I close my eyes."Nope. Not a chance," he says. I turn to see him dragging another stool close to me.The poise and gracefulness he was forced to adapt when we were outside vanish when he gobbles the cake. I smile foolishly, this is the Josh I know. Slapping his knee, I mot
Seconds of silence pass, when Josh doesn't seem to be leaving, I ask, "Who is Brendan?""Our brother, Brandon's twin." I blink, my head spins from the sudden information and my thoughts crash to a stop when he adds, "He is dead." Josh's smile is pitiful, I don't know when I move to stand beside him. I pat his shoulder. "He died in an accident."Brandon has a twin, a dead twin. It's all I can think while my hand meets Josh's shoulder in an awkward show of comfort. He pries my hand off him with a smile I don't comment on because of how fake it is. I rub my hand against my hip. Brandon has a dead twin.Seeing how shaken I am by the news, Josh pushes me into his seat, I sink gratefully into it. I shouldn't have asked. My husband should have told me himself. "When did he die?""A while ago."I snap. "How long is a while ago?""Five years," he rep
Curiosity kills the cat. Satisfaction brings it back. It has to. That is the reason I am in this café, waiting for David after I made the spontaneous decision to see him. I pull my oversized tracksuit over my belly, trying and failing to blend in with the scanty crowd.A wave of nostalgia hits me when someone passes with a tray of fish and chips. I need to call Clarissa. I don't understand how we let life, thesis and coursework pull us apart but we need to meet. Sending her a short text, I roll my lip between my teeth while awaiting her reply. If she replies before David comes, I will cancel our meeting. She comes first.I shouldn't be here.That seems to have become my new mantra and each time, things turn out better than I expect. I hope it's the case today. Taking a swig from the water bottle on the table while I wait for the first person to show up, I try to push the nagging thoughts out of my head.
"You promised," he whispers. He lets go of me to run his hands through his hair. "You promised me, Elna. Your beginning, middle and end." Jumping to his feet, he folds his hands behind his head and murmurs, "You promised. You can't leave me. Baby, please."Unable to look him in the eyes, I bury my face into the pillow and continue shaking my head. I know the answer to his question now, I am so certain of it. Do I still want him? Yes, I will always want him, more than I have ever wanted anyone but I can't have him.Murder is murder and he killed his brother.And it hurts.It hurts every fibre of my being. I love him so much it hurts to think of a future without him. I don't think I can stop loving him but when I look at him, all I see is a killer. If I cannot look past his sins then I shouldn't be in his life. It will be our secret, it's not in my place to tell other people and I am fine with that. I wi
It is hard.Really hard.
He doesn't regret it. But he feels bad. What does that mean? I race down the stairs as fast as I can, my car keys dangling in my hand. Hopefully, I look sane with the way I hurriedly dressed and left. I need to talk to Clarissa but about what? Do I want to tell her what Brandon said? What if she calls the police on him? Will she do that? She won't.
I wake to amber eyes staring down at me. I flash Brandon a sleepy smile, he presses a kiss to my hair and I giggle, he must love my new shampoo. "You slept well?" I ask.He nods, placing another kiss on my temple. "I did, you?" he says against my skin and I hum in response, loving the wet kisses he litters on
The next day, my phone is pinging with notifications. David shoots me a grateful text I don't reply, I am sure he doesn't expect one, we are not friends. My finger hovers over the delete option on his contact, I hesitate. It won’t hurt to have it so I save his number, something I had failed to do. Bored, I send Brandon an SOS and switch off my phone.Time to take matters into my hands.Bathed, shaved and clad in lace lingerie that barely holds my breasts and reveals my bump, I sit up, legs crossed while awaiting that click that will announce his entrance. He won't talk to me like a normal person and now, I am pissed. And horny. And frustrated.The click to signify his presence sounds, reverberating in the room. I shoot up from the bed as fast as a pregnant woman approaching her third semester can and saunter to the door, swinging my hips. Brandon eyes me from head to toe, the appreciative glint in his gaze is missing but I shrug tha
Curiosity kills the cat. Satisfaction brings it back. It has to. That is the reason I am in this café, waiting for David after I made the spontaneous decision to see him. I pull my oversized tracksuit over my belly, trying and failing to blend in with the scanty crowd.A wave of nostalgia hits me when someone passes with a tray of fish and chips. I need to call Clarissa. I don't understand how we let life, thesis and coursework pull us apart but we need to meet. Sending her a short text, I roll my lip between my teeth while awaiting her reply. If she replies before David comes, I will cancel our meeting. She comes first.I shouldn't be here.That seems to have become my new mantra and each time, things turn out better than I expect. I hope it's the case today. Taking a swig from the water bottle on the table while I wait for the first person to show up, I try to push the nagging thoughts out of my head.
Seconds of silence pass, when Josh doesn't seem to be leaving, I ask, "Who is Brendan?""Our brother, Brandon's twin." I blink, my head spins from the sudden information and my thoughts crash to a stop when he adds, "He is dead." Josh's smile is pitiful, I don't know when I move to stand beside him. I pat his shoulder. "He died in an accident."Brandon has a twin, a dead twin. It's all I can think while my hand meets Josh's shoulder in an awkward show of comfort. He pries my hand off him with a smile I don't comment on because of how fake it is. I rub my hand against my hip. Brandon has a dead twin.Seeing how shaken I am by the news, Josh pushes me into his seat, I sink gratefully into it. I shouldn't have asked. My husband should have told me himself. "When did he die?""A while ago."I snap. "How long is a while ago?""Five years," he rep
Josh catches up to me before I reach the house, he offers me a smile, I shrug. None of this is his fault. We take a seat by the kitchen window, staring at the trio seated inside the gazebo. From our position here, we can't see their lips moving but I can't help wishing they will start a conversation. Talk to each other even if it ends in a screaming bout."Do you think they will reconcile?"Josh snickers. He hops to the fridge like he pays rent and returns with a huge chunk of cake. The leftover I had saved to munch on later because I can't resist anything sugary and his family didn't let me enjoy it. Fleeting anger surges through me, I close my eyes."Nope. Not a chance," he says. I turn to see him dragging another stool close to me.The poise and gracefulness he was forced to adapt when we were outside vanish when he gobbles the cake. I smile foolishly, this is the Josh I know. Slapping his knee, I mot
The gazebo is deathly quiet and the tension promises to suffocate us. Everything is going well, if you count the curt greetings from Brandon's snobbish parents. Queen Elizabeth doesn't hold a candle to Brandon's mother with her prim and proper manners, wrinkles and white hair cropped short. All she needs is a crown and I'll genuflect before her.Brandon's dad is an older beardless version of him with thinning hair. He is so quiet, the kind of quiet that allows his haughty wife freedom to speak to people as she pleases. A minute after exchanging greetings and I can already tell it was a bad idea to invite them.Seated beside Brandon, muscles tight and frustrated at my lack of release, I drum my fingers on my legs hidden under the table. He didn't have to punish me this way. I am pregnant, he shouldn’t leave me horny. One look at him shows that's the least of his worries.He is as tensed as I am, maybe even more and a wave of gu