Chapter 29: Jude
1136 Words
Two years.Sometimes it amazed me how quietly time could pass.One moment we were celebrating our first wedding anniversary.
The next…
Our third anniversary was only a few months away.
Somehow, life had settled into something I never thought I would be lucky enough to have.
Peace.
Not the kind that meant nothing ever went wrong.
We still disagreed.
He still forgot to put his coffee cup in the dishwasher.
I still left my medical journals scattered across the living room.
He still insisted on driving me to work whenever he had a free morning.
I still insisted I could drive myself.
Those tiny arguments usually lasted five minutes before one of us started laughing.
Our marriage had become beautifully ordinary.
And I loved every second of it.
⸻
Adrian still kissed me goodbye every morning.
He still called me in the middle of the day just to ask whether I’d eaten.
He still sent flowers to the hospital for absolutely no reason.
He still looked at me as though I was the most extraordinary person he’d ever met.
Nothing about his love had changed.
If anything…
It had only grown steadier.
Safer.
Warmer.
We had kept our promise.
No more silence.
No more hiding difficult conversations.
If something bothered one of us…
We talked.
Immediately.
It wasn’t always comfortable.
But it always brought us closer.
There was only one conversation that had never returned.
The baby.
⸻
Sometimes I’d convince myself it didn’t matter.
Then I’d pass the maternity ward.
Or see one of my colleagues proudly showing pictures of their newborn.
Or watch exhausted parents holding tiny fingers with impossible tenderness.
Something inside me would ache.
Not painfully.
Just…
Longingly.
An instinct I couldn’t quite explain.
As an omega, that longing had become stronger over the past year.
Not overwhelming.
Not constant.
But undeniably there.
Sometimes I’d catch myself smiling at impossibly small socks displayed in shop windows.
Sometimes I’d imagine what Adrian would look like carrying a sleepy toddler on his shoulders.
Sometimes I’d wonder whether a child would inherit his calm eyes.
Or my smile.
Then I’d gently shake the thoughts away.
Because every time they appeared…
One memory always followed.
“Someday.”
That’s what Adrian had said on our first anniversary.
“I do want children. Just not yet.”
I had understood.
Completely.
I still understood.
But…
Two years had passed.
And he had never mentioned it again.
Not once.
Not as a joke.
Not when friends announced pregnancies.
Not when my brothers little boy called him “Uncle Adrian.”
Not when we’d talked about our future.
Never.
The silence hadn’t been intentional.
I knew Adrian well enough to recognise that.
But silence still had a way of growing heavier the longer it remained.
⸻
Was he still thinking about it?
Had he changed his mind?
Did he still want children?
Or…
Had he realised he didn’t?
My stomach tightened at the thought.
If he didn’t…
Would he tell me?
Or was he protecting me?
Just as I’d once tried to protect him.
I sighed quietly while changing out of my scrubs after work.
“No.”
I looked at my own reflection.
“We promised.”
No assumptions.
No fear.
No silence.
If there was one lesson our marriage had taught me, it was that unanswered questions only became larger with time.
The only way forward…
Was through honesty.
⸻
The drive home felt strangely different.
Not because anything had happened.
Because I knew what I was going to ask.
I wasn’t frightened of Adrian.
That fear had disappeared long ago.
We had healed together.
Built something stronger than before.
What unsettled me wasn’t him.
It was the possibility that his answer might not match the quiet hope I’d been carrying in my heart.
Still…
I’d rather know the truth than invent one.
⸻
When I arrived home, the house was quiet.
Adrian hadn’t returned yet.
Good.
That gave me time.
I changed into comfortable clothes and tied an apron around my waist.
Cooking always helped me think.
Tonight, I decided to make everything he loved.
Fresh pasta.
Rosemary steak.
Garlic bread.
The chocolate tart he’d once declared “worth every calorie.”
As vegetables sizzled gently in the pan, I found myself smiling.
Maybe this was silly.
Maybe I didn’t need a special dinner to ask my husband a simple question.
But…
Some conversations deserved gentleness.
This one certainly did.
By the time dessert was chilling in the refrigerator, candles had been placed on the dining table.
Soft music drifted quietly through the house.
Nothing extravagant.
Just…
Home.
Warm.
Comfortable.
Us.
I looked around the dining room and smiled to myself.
“This will do.”
⸻
A little after seven, I heard the front door open.
“I’m home.”
His voice echoed through the hallway.
“In here,” I called.
A moment later, Adrian appeared in the kitchen.
He stopped almost immediately.
His eyes travelled from the candles…
To the dinner…
Then finally to me.
A slow smile spread across his face.
“Either I’ve forgotten something…”
He loosened his tie as he walked over.
“…or I’m the luckiest husband alive.”
I laughed softly.
“You remembered our anniversary wasn’t today.”
“I definitely would’ve remembered that.”
“Good.”
He leaned down and kissed my forehead.
“You’ve been cooking.”
“I have.”
“For me?”
“For us.”
“I like the sound of that.”
His arms slipped around my waist from behind as he looked over my shoulder at the food.
“You’ve made my favourites.”
“I noticed.”
“I’ve been predictable for years.”
“I’ve had almost three years to study you.”
He smiled against my temple.
“And?”
“And I still like you.”
“Only like?”
I pretended to think.
“I’ll let you know after dinner.”
He laughed quietly, the sound warm and familiar.
For a moment, I almost forgot the question waiting inside my heart.
Almost.
As he disappeared upstairs to change, I rested both hands on the kitchen counter.
My pulse had quickened.
I wasn’t asking tonight because I wanted to pressure him.
I wasn’t asking because I doubted his love.
I was asking because I trusted it.
We had promised each other something after our hardest days.
No more guessing.
No more carrying questions alone.
Whatever Adrian’s answer was…
We would face it together.
I took a slow breath as I heard his footsteps returning down the stairs.
Tonight wasn’t about convincing him.
It wasn’t about winning or losing.
It was simply about opening my heart to the man who had promised, years ago, that he would always listen.
And I believed he still would.
- Writer
