𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐃𝐢𝐞

𝟐𝟎

["No I just can't get over you."]

❦

She wasn't in my arms when I woke up and the empty feeling filled the void I was holding.

We both stayed up all night. Her, because of the realization she was hit on with and me, because I couldn't sleep next to a woman that I hurt. Especially next to the one for whom my heart skips a beat and my mind rushes to the next thought about her.

Letting the feeling sink in and swallow it whole, I got up from the bed looking for my wife.

Yes, my wife. No matter how much she resisted or denied it, she is still my wife and she will remain so until I decide otherwise.

I guess then she will be mine forever.

And there she is, at the bottom of the house sitting and drinking at the table.  The familiar smell of whiskey curled around my sense, almost making me dizzy. But the appearance before me could only stop me. The distance between us is unbridgeable, like an unspoken ache in the air.

I approached quietly, hoping to bridge the emotional gap that lingered between us, uncertain of how to mend the fractures that had surfaced the night before.

"Good morning, Maria," I said softly, keeping enough distance so I wouldn't trigger her.

She flinched at the sound of my voice, turning her face so I could see how the pain ate her whole. Black circles crinkled under her honey-brown eyes and her pale face almost made her look like the walking dead.

After a few moments, Maria wiped her nose with her palm, answering my question. "Better." But she didn't sound like that. "I'm just drinking tea. Would you like some?"

I shook my head not wanting to contradict her. "I'm good, thank you."

She drank the entire cup, gulping as if it were water, and then just let out a soft exhale. "Well." She stood up on her shaky legs. "Time to pack."

As she tried to sneak next to me, I grabbed her wrist, locking her in place.  "What packaging? Going somewhere?"

She tried to look away, her eyes wandering everywhere but me. "That doesn't concern you."

"Of course, it concerns me." I squeezed her a little tighter, adding pressure.  "You had a breakdown just a few hours ago and now you're deciding to go to God knows where in this state. So yeah, I'm very concerned."

"Fine." She snapped, moving her face towards me, making her hair fall over her eyes. "I'm finally going back to Russia."

My grip on her hand weakened as much as the weight of those words hung in the air like a thick fog, settling on my shoulders with a weight I couldn't shake.

Maybe that's not true. Maybe she's trying to hurt me again, harder than last time. Knowing that I had her just inches from me and now she's going to go even further, out of my reach, just gives her even more knowledge that she still has me in her hand.

I gathered the strength of my voice, word by word before I spoke. "Russia? And baby–the boy, my son! What will happen to him?"

"He's coming with me." Maria is enunciate condescending.

I dropped her hand as if it was hot and stepped back. "You can't fucking do that. I didn't even meet him. You have to let me meet my son."

"No." Maria looked offended.

"Why?"

"Because his father is dead. For both of us."

As it all sank in, it wasn't some victorious realization but more like admitting truths I'd been dodging. My self-deception fell apart, revealing the vulnerabilities I'd kept hidden, even from myself.