His Luna Warrior

Content warning: This story contains violence, language, adult content, implications of physical trauma and abusive relationships. Reader discretion is advised. Adam I wove my way through the bodies, walking towards the last place I’d seen my wife, Leila. Classical Christmas music was playing softly in the background and, for some reason it was grating on my nerves. I had come to Leila’s work Christmas party, but I was so out of place, so far out of my depth here it just felt ridiculous. I was trying to make sure I didn’t embarrass her in any way. Just stay quiet, keep my head down and everything would be ok. When I located her, she was talking to a sharply dressed, middle aged man. Tapping her on the shoulder, I handed her the drink she’d asked for. “Thank you sweetheart,” she smiled, her voice taking on that sickly sweet tone and I knew I had already done something to displease her. What it was I couldn’t say. I had only spoken a handful of words to her, hadn’t engaged any of her coworkers in conversation—so as not to embarrass her somehow—and had even left her side so she could mingle without me hovering. Maybe it was just my very presence breathing in the same air she was that was bothering her! “John, this is Adam— “Ah! The ever elusive husband we have heard so much about!” John exclaimed, extending a hand in greeting. I was already in the doghouse, and there was no way I could avoid this altercation with John without seeming rude. I shook his hand, nodding my head. I’d say as little as possible and maybe, just maybe Leila wouldn’t get too pissed. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” At my confused expression, he continued, “Our department treats its employees to a luncheon, a dinner or some kind of activity once a month. Employees are encouraged to bring their spouses or a plus one. We believe it promotes a healthy work environment and gives its employees and spouses a night out.” Leila had mentioned a few times in the past year about a dinner here, or a luncheon there. However, she always told me the night before and by then I couldn’t get anyone to cover my swing shift for me. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to respond, so I stayed silent. Better not to say anything at all and allow them to assume than to speak and have to endure Leila’s wrath. “Leila told us you were usually busy with work or had something else come up that prevented you from coming.” I could tell in his tone there was some judgement, as if Leila told him something else, had given some other terrible reason for why I never came. “Leila is a wonderful woman. Any man would be lucky to have such a woman,” John added. “Of course,” I agreed. I already knew this because she was my wife… “When is the next event?” I asked, knowing I would get an earful from Leila about this. “Leila always tells me a little too late about these outings and I’m always booked by the time she tells me”. Lies. All of them. As John gave me the information, I could see the disappointment gleaming from her gaze. I had done something wrong. She didn’t make a spectacle at the party. No, she waited until we were in the car driving home before she started her attack. Her hands started slapping and hitting my head, shoulders and chest, startling me enough that I jerked the wheel and almost hit the car next to us. “Leila!— “You embarrassed me!” She screamed. For some reason, she got this way after drinking… And it was happening more and more often. “I’ve told you about our company nights! And you always refuse to go,” she cried, covering her face with her hands. “You tell me about them the day before and I have explained I can’t get someone to cover my shift on such short notice,” I explained as calmly as I could, not wanting to incite another outburst. “That’s where you are wrong,” she wailed. “I do tell you. Weeks in advance. And you always forget! You tell me to remind you the day before, and then you blame me for not being able to go! Do you think I want to go to my company events alone? It’s embarrassing! To see the pitiful looks I get from my coworkers when I tell them once again that you are too busy to come!” She sobbed. I was confident she never told me weeks in advance, but with how she was reacting, I was starting to doubt myself. “Okay… Well, how about we get a calendar and — “You think a calendar will work!?” She exploded. “You are a forgetful piece of s**t and you think a calendar is going to help you remember?” “It’s worth a shot, especially if these company events are important to you,” I mumbled, my voice smaller than it should have been. She scoffed in disbelief. “If you truly loved me you wouldn’t need a calendar to remember when we are supposed to have you and me time,” she pouted. “If I’m that big of an embarrassment, that big of a disappointment, then why are we even together?” I shot back, nearing the end of my rope. “Because you know no one else would ever want you!” She exclaimed. “Because I am the best you will ever have. No one else, no other woman, would want such a forgetful, pathetic piece of s**t like you!” She hit the back of my head again, and I just let it go because she was right. I had tried ‘catching’ another woman’s eye before, just to prove to myself Leila was wrong. But, it was I who had been put in my place. Leila was beautiful, smart and she was the best; better than I deserved. I should be kissing the very ground she walked on because she had chosen me. And maybe she was right. Maybe if I really wanted to be with her, maybe if I really truly did love her, I would be able to remember when she told me about these events. Somewhere in the back of my mind, though, there was that nagging feeling she was lying when she said she told me about these events in advance. I was sure I would remember at least one instance when she did, but as my recollection recalled, it was always the day before. And when I told her I couldn’t go, she would cry, pout and tell me how neglectful of her and her feelings I was. “Remember my holiday party is tomorrow,” I softly reminded her. “You offered to watch the kids tomorrow since Jan won’t be able to baby sit them.” “I can’t.” “But you said— “I said I would have to look at my schedule. And I already had something planned.” Anger spread through my chest and I couldn’t keep the frustration from my tone. I had asked at the beginning of the month—the moment I had found out—so I could either make other arrangements for our children or I could catch her before her schedule filled up. I had even reminded her a week and a half ago and she hadn’t said anything then other than she needed to check and write it down... “Why didn’t you— “You failed to check back with me,” she stated matter of factly, looking down at her nails indifferently. “It’s not my fault you are so incompetent.” Once again, I had to skip out on my friends because of her. Every time she had agreed to watch our children she conveniently ‘forgot’ or something else came up and she couldn’t do it. There was always some reason that kept me from seeing my friends or family. That kept me at home. But, she was the bread winner in the family. Leila had the big paying job that paid for the nice condo we had, kept good food on our table, and paid for the kids expensive child care and school. She had more pressures because of that, which should allow a little more leniency. What she could provide for our children was much more than I ever could, and far better than what I had growing up with. My sister and I hadn’t been so fortunate to have good parents. Ours had been addicts, more worried about the next high they got rather than taking care of their children. We had been removed from their care when they overdosed in their vehicle with us locked in the back seat. We were placed into foster care until our grandparents adopted us. What Leila ever saw in me was a mystery. If keeping her happy meant I didn’t get to have a life outside of work and home, then so be it. When the children were grown, Leila and I could work out our differences. Until then, I refused to break the family unit up because I didn’t want my children to be raised in a broken home. *** Just after the first of the year, I came back from work to find our condo on fire. Firefighters and authorities were already on site. Panic and a fear I’d never felt before, lanced through my chest as I rushed up to them, demanding answers. Once they realized I was the father to the children who’d been rescued from the condo, they directed me to the ambulances on site. Paramedics were already checking out my children, preparing them to be transported to the hospital for further tests. “What about my wife? Leila?” I demanded of an officer who came to talk to me. “She was in worse shape. They already took her and—we assumed her husband—to the hospital.” Hold up! She’d had another man here? What in the heck were they doing? You know what, never mind that right now! “What happened?” He looked at me with a scrutinizing eye, but there wasn’t anything for me to hide. “Your wife and the other man present, were high on drugs. They had put something in the oven to cook for a quick dinner before they started doing their thing. They were unconscious in the bedroom when we found them. Whatever had been cooking in the oven caught on fire. Your daughter was the one who called us.” I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. Anger, red hot, was tearing up my insides at the carelessness Leila had exhibited. Hell! She’d almost killed our kids! I felt hurt because she’d been having some kind of an affair with another man, but also because she betrayed me in the most terrible of ways by bringing drugs into our lives. An affair I could handle. But drugs was an entirely different story. Drugs were far more dangerous. Not only could they kill the ones using them, but it could also kill innocents. The proof was right here in front of me, as the firemen doused the remaining smoldering ashes of our condo. And lastly fear. Fear for me and my children’s futures. I knew what I would have to do, and it was going to be a long and difficult process. Leila would fight tooth and nail against a divorce because it would put just one more dark mark on her. It would further tarnish her already bleeding reputation. She would fight to keep her kids in her life. To use them as a tool as she had used me. The thing was, she had finally crossed a line. One I couldn’t forgive her for. I would never be able to trust her with our children again. I would do everything in my power to fight for them, to gain full custody of them and then take them far away from her where she would never be able to hurt them again.