desiderium | m. o'hara

one

I stiffen against the door. Leave? Leave who? Leave what? His job? Rosalina? Me? Was Alicia right about him?

To my mounting distress, a woman is who answers.

"About as much as it would hurt them if they find out what already happened." She's curt and dry, a voice I don't recognise. "Miguel, this was never a great idea, y'know?"

"You're just saying that because you didn't make it," Miguel responds sarcastically.

"Ooh, ouch! Yeah, that one really got me."

"Lyla, focus."

"Yessir," she grumbles.

I step away with my heart in my throat. I can't bear to listen to their familiarity any longer, their banter something reminiscent of what I had shared with Miguel myself. My ears thud. My vision swims. In a daze, I make my way to the living room and sit down.

Lyla. Leave. Is Miguel going to leave me? What about our daughter? He never showed signs of being unhappy before, and if he were, he's the type to talk it out. He doesn't make drastic decisions.

But he's also never acted like this before so, really, do I even know him at all?

I spend the night awake, thoughts heavy and messy, alone in our bed.

••🕷️••

"Recent sightings of Spider-Man have sparked intrigue after he was spotted in an upgraded suit using technology unfamiliar to leading experts."

Miguel's peeking at the TV as we silently cook dinner. It plays a gossip section about the resident superhero of Neuva York. At least that's normal of him. He's always been interested in Spider-Man.

"Rosita, dinner's ready!" I call as I slide diced bacon across the hot pan. It sizzles and pops, almost ready to be added to the pasta. The kitchen is filled with its mouthwatering smell.

Miguel dices fresh celery with slow, careful strokes of a knife. He hasn't spoken a word to me since we started cooking and I've given him similar treatment. I can't stop thinking about a woman named Lyla trying to persuade him to leave. I'm still unsure if it's in reference to Alchemax or me.

Maybe he's trying to act like an asshole so I'll be the one to break it off.

Rosalina bounds down the stairs and beams at us. She's missing a tooth and the white tip of an adult is just poking out from the gum. She is completely, utterly oblivious to the silent conflict between her parents and I strive to keep it that way.

She keeps us talking throughout dinner while she swings her legs on a chair that's too big for her. I'm caught between paying attention and silently worrying.

By the time we finish eating, I've bolstered enough courage to pin Miguel down and get some answers.

"Go have a bath, Rosa," I say softly. She nods, leaping from the table and dashing up the stairs before I remind her to take her plate to the kitchen. Miguel picks up his plate, going to leave.

"Miguel, stay," I order.

He pauses and sends me a wide-eyed look. I nod to his seat.