Chapter 6
877 Words
◇Kate◇
The alarm buzzed for the third time, a shrill reminder of a day already slipping through her fingers, light spilled through the blinds in long, slanted lines across the bedroom floor, but she didn’t move. The ceiling was just as black as the day before, an unchanging sky she couldn't escape.
“Mommy?”
Fabian stood at the doorway in his mismatched stocks and pajama shirt, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his hair stuck up like a dandelion puff.
“Mommy, I'm hungry.”
“I don't feel good,” she whispered, but he didn't hear her.
She turned away from him, curling inward like paper in flame.
“ You said we would make our favorite pancakes.”
He wasn't whinnying. He was just asking. Remembering
“ I can't today, baby. Mommy is sick, aunt Maria will make you breakfast and take you to school,” she murmured, her voice cracking like old wood.
He didn't answer, just stood there, uncertain.
“Okay Mummy, I love you, be well,” then he shuffled away, the sound of his feet whispering down the hallway.
Tears gathered, hot and useless.
She wanted to rise, to pull herself out of the quicksand of her mind, to be the mother they deserved.
But she couldn't. The weight on her chest was too real.
***********************
◇Dean ◇
“Sir, there’s an urgent call from your residence. They requested to speak with you immediately.”
Thank you, put it through to my office.
“ Mr Williams, I'm sorry to disturb you, but baby Clara won't stop crying and Madam is very unwell. I can't calm her down at all. Could you please come back home as soon as possible?”
Okay,I'm coming right away,” he said, hanging up the phone.
He started at the screen for a second longer, then turned on his heel.
“Miss Hannah, postpone all my meetings for today,I'm heading home early,” he instructed his assistant as he reached for his coat.
“Noted Mr Williams.” She replied, her voice calm, but her eyes briefly flickered with surprise.
He grabbed his bag and stormed out of the office, his footsteps echoing sharply down the corridor. The usual brisk confidence in his stride was replaced by something heavier, guilt, and regret.
She has fallen sick.
And it was, at least in part, because of him.
He clenched the steering wheel as he drove, jaw tight, knuckles pale, his mind raced with everything he shouldn’t have done, the argument had spiraled out of control.
He hadn’t meant to raise his voice like that. He hadn’t meant to make her cry, but intentions didn’t erase the consequences.
He had always prided himself on control, composure, and never crossing that line.
Until yesterday.
He replayed the moment again and again.
The look on her, the way she flinched when his voice thundered through the room, he winced at the memory of the pain he had caused her hair so roughly.
What kind of man is he becoming?
He had always prided himself on being in control or never crossing that line, his father had been a monster, volatile, violent, and he had sworn he'd never be anything like him.
But last night, he saw a glimpse of a monster in the mirror.
He clenched his jaw as he pulled up to drive away, the lower of the engine doing little to drown out the storm inside his head.
The steering wheel creaked beneath his tightening grip before he let go with a sigh that felt like it had been building for days.
No matter how angry he got, he had no right to abuse her like that. She had been nothing but kind, patient to his children, a good mother.
And it wasn't even a real marriage to begin with, and the divorce papers were almost finalized, a few more signatures, and it would be over.
He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel for a second, then straightened up, he would apologize, first thing, before anything else.
With a click, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.
◇Kate◇
Her body felt heavy, but not just from the fever.
It was a kind of exhaustion that sped into her bones, into her thoughts, into the places no medicine could reach.
She stirred under the covers, clutching them tighter as a deep ache pulsed through her limbs, and a soft groan escaped her lips.
She sits up slowly, wincing, her hand instinctively reaching for her temple fingers, pressing as if to hold her head together with her breath hitched brow furrowed.
She swallowed, a sharp sting in her throat, and she winced again.
With trembling legs, she made her way to the bathroom. At the sink, she stared at her reflection in the mirror, disheveled hair, dark circles, a faint sheen of sweat on her skin.
Her nose was red and flaring irritated by a persistent itch.
Her shoulders slumped as she leaned heavily against the sink.
The faucet ran, she cupped her hands, splashing water on her face, but the relief was fleeting.
The room spun, and her legs gave way beneath her. She was about to collapse when two strong arms caught her.
- Writer
