Mrs Inbetween

Chapter 5 - Origami Lies

Frustration coiled in my gut, twisting tighter with every unanswered knock. Silence mocked me from behind the worn apartment door. "Sia, open up!" I barked, knuckles throbbing from the frantic pounding.

Sunshine, perched on the threadbare armrest of the hallway bench, shot me a disapproving glance. Her perfectly manicured nails tapped a staccato rhythm against the worn fabric. "Jake," she purred, her voice laced with honeyed calm, "you're scaring the neighbors."

I ignored her, pressing my ear against the cold wood. Still nothing. Had I gotten the damn address wrong? No, this was the place. The one in which Sia used to sleep when we had some silent days. "Gone," Sunshine left me no hope, "to a new city, a new life. Don't even think about finding her."

Easier said than done. Regret, a bitter pill, had been lodged in my throat since the night I'd strayed. Everything was lost - Sia, our future, the life we'd planned together. All for a fleeting moment with Sunshine, who now watched with an unsettling air of triumph.

Sunshine's hand landed on my shoulder, a calculated touch. You can't dwell on the past," she purred. "Look at it this way, wouldn't Sia be happier without you, considering..."

Her voice trailed off, the implication heavy in the air. She didn't need to finish the sentence. Considering I wasn't exactly… equipped to handle fatherhood. Sunshine had been quick to point that out when I'd confessed my infidelity, her carefully painted lips curling in disdain.

"She'd probably crumble under the pressure," she'd said, her voice devoid of sympathy. "You were holding her back."

Holding her back? Maybe. The guilt gnawed at me, but a sliver of truth cut through it. Sia, with her dreams and aspirations, deserved more than a life chained to a man, who cannot father a child. Sunshine, successful and ambitious, seemed to fit the bill perfectly.

But the emptiness in the apartment doorway felt like a gaping hole in my chest. I was surprised how miserable I felt without her.

Now when the divorce is a fact.

Just then, the next house door creaked open a sliver. A woman's face, unfamiliar and wary, peered out. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice laced with apprehension.

I fumbled for words. "I’m… a… I'm looking for Sia. My… my wife."

The woman's eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. But before she could respond, the door slammed shut with a finality that echoed through the hallway. I was left standing alone, the echo of my own words hanging in the stale air.

Sunshine's hand tightened on my shoulder. "See?" she murmured, a triumphant glint in her eyes. "Time to move on, Jake. We have a future to build."

But as I turned away, a nagging doubt gnawed at me. Moving on might be easier, but was it the right thing to do? The emptiness in the doorway lingered, a stark reminder of the life I'd left behind.

Then Sunshine continued almost sensing what I was going through inside.

"And let's be honest," Sunshine continued, her voice taking on a sly edge, "Sia wasn't exactly… supportive of your dreams, was she? Remember all those nights she was buried in work, focused on her own career instead of being your partner?"

A flicker of truth sparked in my memory. There had been nights like that, filled with a tense silence. But Sia had her ambitions, just like I did. We'd both been chasing our passions, or so I'd thought.

Sensing my hesitation, Sunshine pressed on. "Think about it, Jake. A wife should be a cheerleader, your biggest fan. But did Sia ever truly seem to celebrate your achievements? Maybe your dreams just… paled in comparison to hers."

"And let's not forget," Sunshine continued, her voice taking on a softer, almost sympathetic tone, "there were… issues, weren't there?

We both know how much you wanted a family, something Sia just couldn't give you."

A fresh wave of guilt washed over me. The yearning for a child had been a silent ache between us, a dream left unspoken for fear of shattering the fragile equilibrium of our relationship.

Sunshine squeezed my shoulder gently. "It wasn't your fault, Jake. Some things are just out of our control. But you deserve a future filled with laughter, a future with the pitter-patter of little feet. A future I can offer you."

Her words struck a deep chord. The image of a playful child, our child, filled the emptiness gnawing at me. Sia had been hesitant, always focused on her career, putting off the conversation about starting a family. Was that because of me? Because of some unspoken doubt?

The doubt gnawed at me. Sunshine's words resonated with a truth I hadn't wanted to face. Sia had been so driven, so focused on her own path. Was there ever room for mine in her world?

"Maybe she just had a different vision for the future," I countered, a flicker of defiance rising in my chest.

"A vision that didn't include you?" Sunshine's voice dripped with a subtle poison. "Maybe she needed someone who could offer the kind of financial security she craved, something you, as a struggling artist, simply couldn't provide."

The barb hit its mark. My career was finally gaining traction, but success was still a distant horizon. Shame washed over me, a bitter cocktail of guilt and inadequacy.

"Look, Jake," Sunshine said, her voice softening. "Don't you deserve someone who celebrates your journey, someone who inspires you to reach for the stars? Someone like me?"

"Sunshine is right, Jake," a cruel voice whispered in the recesses of my mind. "She's the one who can give you what you truly desire.

Don't you deserve happiness?"

The silence stretched between us, heavy with the weight of the past and the seductive promise of a new beginning. I looked at Sunshine, her eyes shining with a sympathy that felt… convenient. A tiny seed of doubt lingered, a nagging feeling that there was more to the story, a story I might never know. But the future Sunshine offered was a future I could almost grasp, a future filled with success and the laughter of children. If the real cause of not being able to conceive a baby wasn't me. Could I let go of the past and embrace this new possibility?

Sunshine's hand found mine, her touch a calculated warmth. "Come on," she murmured, her voice laced with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. "Let's get out of here. My place is a little too… sterile for drowning your sorrows. We'll head to yours, uncork a bottle of wine, and you can tell me all about your upcoming show. A little distraction is what you need."

I hesitated, a flicker of doubt warring with the yearning for comfort. But the emptiness in Sia's doorway echoed in my mind, and Sunshine's suggestion, however self-serving, held a sliver of appeal. "Alright," I finally conceded, a leaden weight settling in my stomach.

We went down the stairs, the silence between us companionable rather than strained. As we reached the street, Sunshine hailed a cab, and within minutes, we were pulling up outside my apartment building.

Sunshine skipped ahead, her designer heels clicking a staccato rhythm on the sidewalk. Unlocking the door, I ushered her in, the familiar scent of dust and turpentine greeting us.

"It's… charming," Sunshine said, her voice dripping with forced enthusiasm as she surveyed the sparsely furnished living room.

"Work in progress," I mumbled, heading for the kitchen. "Let me get you some wine. Red or white?"

"Red, please," Sunshine called after me, already settling onto the threadbare sofa.

I rummaged through the meager contents of my fridge, finally unearthing a bottle of something vaguely resembling wine. Just as I reached for a corkscrew, the telltale whoosh of mail slipping through the letterbox reached my ears. Another pile of fliers. I thought, heading towards the living room.

SUNSHINE’S POV

A sliver of triumph gleamed in my eyes as Jake slumped beside me on the threadbare sofa. His visit to Sia's empty apartment had clearly shaken him. Perfect. Now, all I needed was a cozy atmosphere, a bottle of wine, and a well-placed shoulder to cry on.

"This place," I said, feigning a shiver, "it has a certain...rustic charm." The peeling wallpaper and exposed brick did little to impress, but it was all part of the act.

"Work in progress," Jake mumbled, heading towards the kitchen. "Red or white?"

"Red, please," I replied, my gaze flitting around the room. This was it. My chance to subtly reinforce the narrative I'd crafted. Maybe a framed photo of a happy couple on a beach tucked away on a bookshelf? No, too obvious.

Just then, the telltale sound of the mail slot snapping open sent a jolt through me. I whipped my head towards the entryway, praying it wasn't something addressed to Sia. There, on the worn floorboards, lay a single white envelope.

Panic clawed at my throat. The logo on the front was an innocuous blue flower, but the return address screamed trouble: "Fertility Solutions Clinic." This couldn't be happening. How did it get here? Did Jake know?

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Act casual, I told myself. But my carefully constructed facade felt like a house of cards in a hurricane.

As Jake emerged from the kitchen, a bottle of red swishing in his hand, my mind raced. I had to get rid of that letter. But how?

Casually strolling over and picking it up would be suspicious. Maybe I could…

Suddenly, Jake spoke, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Looks like you have a secret admirer, Sunshine. Origami stork on your mail."

My breath hitched. He'd seen it. The carefully crafted image of the supportive, sympathetic girlfriend threatened to crumble. A forced smile stretched across my face, tight and brittle.

"Oh, that?" I tried to sound nonchalant, my voice betraying a touch of hysteria. "Probably just some junk mail. You know how it is

these days."

I inched closer to the envelope, my eyes darting around the room for an escape route. Maybe I could kick it under the sofa? No, too obvious. Shove it behind a cushion? Desperate, I glanced towards the kitchen counter, praying for a distraction.

"Here you go," Jake said, oblivious to my inner turmoil, handing me a glass of wine. "Ready to forget about today?"

"Absolutely," I lied, my gaze glued to the offending envelope. This was a disaster. The carefully constructed foundation of my future with Jake was teetering on the edge of collapse, all because of a misplaced letter.

I had to think fast. I had to get rid of that letter, and more importantly, I had to find a way to erase any doubts it might have planted in Jake's mind. The game had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.