My Wife
CULLEN
When I got home, I didn’t even think, I just walked straight toward the bedroom.
Our bedroom.
My bedroom with Sarah. My wife.
Even saying that in my head felt strange now. Like I was borrowing someone else’s life.
I opened the door
And the moment I did, everything hit me like a freight train. The air still smelled like her perfume, something soft and floral. Her silk robe was hanging on the back of the chair. Her heels were lined up neatly near the dresser. Her hairbrush, her jewellery box, the stupid stuffed bear I always made fun of... it was all there. She was everywhere.
This room had always been hers more than it was mine. Maybe because I was never really here. I came home too late and left too early. But every time I opened this door, she was there. Curled up in bed, or sitting on the balcony with a blanket and tea, or already fast asleep with the light still on.
Now, the bed was untouched. Cold.
Empty.
I couldn’t step inside. My hand trembled as I closed the door gently, almost like I didn’t want to disturb her ghost.
I turned and walked down the hall, straight to my old bedroom. The one I grew up in. The one that still smelled like old wood and boyhood dreams that never quite grew up.
I didn’t even think. I just went in, peeled off the blood-stained shirt, and got in the shower. Hot water. Scrubbing at skin that still felt stained with guilt.
I changed into a plain tee and sweatpants. Sat on the bed. Stared at the wall.
And for a while, I just existed. No thoughts. No noise. Just empty. Somewhere along the line, sleep pulled me under. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe just escape.
When I woke up, the sun was going down. I groaned as I sat up, my back aching, and mouth dry. I reached for my phone, still on the nightstand.
Buzzing.
Cyrus.
I stared at his name, then hit end call.
Dozens of missed calls. My mom. Dad. Bella. Cyrus again. Messages too, but I didn’t dare read them. I didn’t need the noise or commands. Not yet. I shoved the phone into my pocket and left the room.
As I came down the stairs, the front door opened and in walked Cyrus.
He looked up. We locked eyes.
For a long second, neither of us moved. Neither of us spoke. Then his mouth twisted into a snarl.
“Where the fuck have you been? We've been looking for you everywhere... and what the fuck happened to your face?.”
His voice was low, angry. Controlled.
"None of your business."
“This isn’t the time for you to disappear into your little emo cave,” he snapped. “You don’t get to vanish when your wife is lying in the hospital bed. Not when your presence is vital... Not when we were supposed to make a plan, not go MIA.”
I smiled, but it wasn’t a real smile. Not one born from joy. It was the kind of smile you give right before you snap someone’s neck.
“What’s it to you?” I bit out. “Focus on your own wife, Cyrus. Stop sticking your nose in mine.”
His eyes darkened. “Well, your mess is my mess right now,” he snapped. “Because if you screw this up, it’s not just about you. It affects me. It affects the entire family.”
He stepped closer. “You think I want to become Don in the middle of a war with the Irish? We both know this was supposed to be our bridge. Our chance to make peace. You don’t get to burn that down.”
His voice dropped, like a warning wrapped in frustration. “I don’t want my son growing up in a world of blood and bullets. Do you understand?”
I stared at him. Cold. Flat.
“No,” I said. “I don’t.”
I then kept on walking down the stairs while he glared at me, eyes practically burning a hole through me.
“I know you don’t care,” he said behind me. “I know nothing matters to you right now. But don’t you dare act like...."
" Shut up Cyrus, you know nothing. Don’t you dare tell me how I should feel or what I should do."
" I’m trying to keep this family from tearing itself apart while you spiral.”
I stopped at the foot of the stairs.
“Sarah,” I said, “is my wife. My business. Not yours.”
"I don't know about that Cyrus... Because I do know that, but maybe you should spend more time with your wife and try to remind her who she is really married to instead of standing here preaching about who Sarah's husband is." he practically screamed in my face.
I narrowed my eyes at him "What do you mean?"
I asked because I did not like his tone I did not like what he was trying to insinuate.
" You heard me," he answered back.
I went towards him and stared him straight in the eye " Why don't you repeat what you just said" I asked
A sharp voice cut through the hallway. “What the hell is going on?”
My father. His footsteps echoed as he entered the foyer, eyes narrowed on both of us.
“And where the hell have you been?” he asked, tone already sharp. “I had people looking for you all night. You vanished.”
I gave him a tight, sarcastic smile. “Maybe if any of those people thought to check inside this house, they might’ve found me.”
He folded his arms. “The maid said you weren’t in your bedroom.”
“My matrimonial bedroom,” I corrected flatly. “Not my room.”
He waved a hand, dismissing it like it didn’t matter. “Enough. You’re both here now, that's all that matters. Come to the study.”
He turned without waiting for a response and started walking.
Cyrus shot me one last look. I didn’t blink. I didn’t flinch. He huffed and followed after our father.
I stood there for a beat, sucking in a breath, steadying myself. Then I followed them.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
