Can there be something greater than love?

Chapter2:AnEmptytoast

The soft glow of candlelight filled the room as the guests gathered around the long table, the familiar scent of Wila’s cooking lingering in the air. The anniversary celebration was meant to be a joyful occasion—eight years of marriage, a milestone that many couples would look back on with pride. But Wila felt the weight of the evening pressing down on her, a gentle ache that refused to be ignored.

Her husband, Gabriel, stood beside her, his hand resting on the small of her back. He smiled at her, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. He had always tried, tried to make her happy, to show her that he was there for her. But she wondered, as she often did, if it was enough.

“You look beautiful tonight, Wila,” he whispered, his voice warm but unaware of the doubt clouding her mind.

She smiled back, though it felt forced. “Thanks, Gab,” she replied, keeping her tone light. “You too.”

The room was filled with the laughter of their friends. Andreas, Fabio, and Samuel, her husband’s childhood friends, had come with their wives: Stella, Bambi, and Andrea. Everyone was enjoying themselves, their chatter filling the air as they took their seats.

“Wila, the food looks amazing, as always,” Andreas said, taking a bite of the food she had carefully prepared.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” Stella added, raising her glass in a toast.

“How do you do it?” Fabio asked with a grin. “You’ve got a restaurant, properties, and a family. You’re a superwoman!”

Wila chuckled softly, feeling the weight of the compliment in a way she couldn’t quite explain. Superwoman. It had become a title she wore, but tonight, it didn’t feel as empowering as it once had.

Her son, Max, was running around, his energy infectious. He’d been waiting for this night for weeks, excited to celebrate with his parents and their friends. He came over to her with a smile that could melt anyone’s heart.

“Mom, are you happy?” he asked, his innocent eyes wide.

Wila bent down to his level, brushing a lock of hair from his face. “Of course, sweetheart,” she said, the words slipping out easier than she had expected. For him, at least, she would always be happy.

The evening continued with laughter and music. At one point, Gabriel took her hand and led her to the center of the room. The guests gathered around, all eyes on them as they prepared to cut the cake. Her husband spoke first, his voice steady and filled with love.

“Wila,” he said, holding her gaze. “Eight years ago, you made me the happiest man alive when you said yes. Every day with you has been a blessing. You are everything I could have ever hoped for.”

Wila felt a lump form in her throat as he kissed her cheek. The applause that followed was warm, but the moment felt hollow. She had heard those words before, and yet, something deep inside her ached for the love she had once shared with someone else.

The guests gathered around to take their turn, offering their own compliments, the praise all aimed at her—her cooking, her ability to hold everything together.

“You’re amazing, Wila. You’ve built this life, this family, this future. You’re an inspiration.” Gabriel’s words were kind, but they felt like another layer of responsibility being placed on her shoulders.

As the evening wound down and the guests began to leave, Andreas, Fabio, and Samuel shared their congratulations one more time, each of them offering a hug or a handshake. They seemed genuinely happy for her, for them. But Wila couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing, something she couldn’t quite name.

“Happy anniversary, love,” Gab said, pulling her into a hug as the last of their guests filed out. She rested her head on his chest, the warmth of his embrace comforting, but the emptiness still lingered.

“Happy anniversary,” she echoed, her voice barely a whisper. She kissed him gently on the lips, but the gesture felt almost automatic.

Max ran over, tugging at her sleeve, his face lit with excitement.

“Can we dance now, Mom?”

Wila smiled, the effort of the night finally catching up with her. “Of course, sweetheart.”

As the music played softly in the background, Wila danced with Max, her movements slow and steady, the weight of the moment pressing on her chest. For him, she was the perfect mother, the perfect wife, and the perfect businesswoman. But for her, tonight, like every night, she was something else entirely.

The night ended quietly, with Gabriel asleep beside her, the steady rhythm of his breath a reminder of the life they had built together. Wila lay awake, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts once again drifting back to the life she had left behind. Was it worth it? She asks herself while slowly falling asleep she remembered again. It hadn't happened for a long time now, thinking of him and the moments they shared twice in 24hours.

IN THE PAST

" Mr Thomas what have you done this time where is Wila she hasn't been in school for two days already what did you do to her?" A very angry and frighthend Stephan says as he looks around Mr Thomas didn't care to look at him for any explanation. He went on drinking his whiskey like nothing was going on . That was when Wila sibling Andrew came by him crying . . The voice of Mr. Thomas echoed in the background, but he couldn’t quite hear the words anymore. His attention was fixated on Andrew, the three-year-old, who stood there crying—his tiny face twisted in fear.

“Where’s Wila?” Stephan’s voice broke through the haze of panic that had started to settle in his stomach. His eyes darted to Mr. Thomas, whose indifference only worsened the heavy silence that hung in the air. Mr. Thomas, with his whiskey bottle in hand, seemed unfazed by the surrounding commotion.

Stephan wasn’t waiting for an answer from him. His concern was now fully fixed on Andrew, who had no words to explain the situation. “Andrew, where’s your sister? Tell me, please!”

The little boy could only sob, his tiny hands wiping at his face, but he didn’t say a word. Panic surged through Stephan’s veins, making his heart race. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. He could already sense it—the overwhelming sense of dread creeping through his body.

Ignoring everything else, he pushed past Andrew and ran into the house.

His mind was racing, but his feet seemed to move of their own accord. Every room felt like it could hold a nightmare, and the silence in the house was suffocating. When he finally found her, it was like the ground beneath him had shifted.

Wila lay on the cold floor, her dark hair tangled around her face, her body still. His breath caught in his throat. The sight of her was like a blow to his chest—his heart pounding, his limbs frozen. Stephan finds her barely clinging to life, unconscious, with blood pooling around her head.

He rushes to her side, and as he kneels, he notices the faintest rise and fall of her chest. Her breathing is shallow, ragged—like a whisper of life refusing to give up. Blood trails from the side of her head, soaking into the floorboards.

“Oh God… Wila, stay with me,” he pleads, tearing off his shirt to press against the wound, his fingers trembling as he dials for help with the other hand. His voice is cracked with terror. “You’re not leaving me like this. You hear me? Stay awake, please…”