The Under Boss's Ballerina [18+]

10

I place the bowl and saucer of soup sided with bread in front of him along with the main dish and place the appetizer plate in the centre of the table.

"It's been some time you've cooked for me." He saying picking up his soup spoon and dipping into the bowl. "I rather love you putting a tiny effort on us, Ariel."

"As I love you putting a micron of effort on us, Angelo." I say masking my insult with a smile. "But- sadly I've been searching for your efforts, I don't find it."

"Are we fighting again, Ariel?" He sighs putting the spoon on his saucer. "If you've already planned out the end of our dinner, forgive me but, I am not interested ending up being the centre of your madness."

"We are not fighting." I reassure. "Don't worry."

"I hate to fight, Ariel." He says reaching for the hand that rested on the table.

I debate of I should move mine away, but I let him hold it nevertheless.

"I hate to fight to, Angelo." I whisper. "But you make it so hard."

He sighs.

"I wish you'd just talk." I add. "Just acknowledge that we- this-" I gesture between us. "It's not okay, it's not normal."

He sighs.

"We don't say I love yous or stay whenever the other one gets up in the morning, we skirt around our issues, we don't talk about anything, we just- fuck." I say.

He stays silent.

"I lost a baby." I whisper. "The only remains of him I have is a damn ultra sound- and you." I whisper out, tears threatening to leak out of my eyes. "I know it wasn't how it was supposed to be, we weren't seeing each other, we barely liked each other, there was no love, no settling down, no family, no nothing between us but you can't deny that of was your flesh, Angelo."

"I am not doing this, Ariel." He says wiping his lips with the napkin and dropping it on the table. "I am done, I knew coming here was a bad idea."

"Just say once, you're sorry that you hurt to."

"Fine." He sighs. "I am sorry. I hurt as well."

I break down crying after his emotionless, careless apology.

Angelo leaves the dinner table.

Like always.

I push my plate away, folding my arms on the table, bury my head between them, and cry.

"Tadpole." I hear his voice. Gentle and soothing. "Baby-"

"Go away." I whisper. "Leave me alone."

He does.

Like always.

Like every damn time.

I dry my eyes, refusing to be a damsel and put the food in the fridge pad toward the guestroom downstairs and make the bed for myself, turning off the light, I lay down.

Sleep doesn't come to me.

I keep replaying our conversation from tonight. Over and over.

How cold and distantly he said he was sorry and he hurt.

Why is it so hard to accept for him?

Why?

I bite my lip, blinking the tears away from my eyes, a hand subconsciously landing on my stomach.

Silent.

How I wish life was different right now.

I am not materialistic person. I have no care for extreme money, just enough to get my days going.