Episode3
1142 Words
The kitchen was too clean.
Leona stood at the marble island, trying to chop apples for Alora’s porridge, but her fingers trembled with every slice. The knives were new, Adrian must’ve replaced them. But the silence? That was old.
This house had always been too quiet, even when she was his wife.
“I didn’t think you cooked,” came a low voice from the doorway.
She turned fast.
Adrian leaned against the frame, barefoot, shirt half-buttoned, hair still wet from a shower. He looked… domestic. It unsettled her.
“I cook,” she said. “Just not with an audience.”
He smirked faintly, stepping in. “What’s for breakfast?”
“For me? Nerves. For Alora? Apple porridge.”
“Sounds terrible.”
“She’s three. Her palate isn’t complicated.”
He walked past her, too close. She caught the scent of cedar and soap. Familiar. Dangerous.
“Want coffee?” he asked.
She stared. “You’re making coffee?”
Adrian shrugged. “I don’t remember how I take it anymore. Thought I’d start over.”
That hit harder than she expected.
Leona looked away. “Black. No sugar. Two shots of espresso.”
He paused, then chuckled under his breath. “You remember.”
“I remember everything.”
There was silence as he poured water into the kettle, not asking for help. She watched him, confused.
“You’re… different.”
Adrian looked over. “Is that good or bad?”
“I haven’t decided.”
He smiled, hesitant. “Maybe you will.”
Later, Leona sat with Alora on the patio while the sea breathed gently in the distance. The sun was soft, still waking. Amara played with her crayons, humming.
Adrian stood at the edge of the terrace, phone to his ear, giving instructions in French, then switching to Italian. Still commanding. Still magnetic.
When he hung up, Leona spoke without looking at him.
“You’re still running empires.”
He slid into the seat beside her. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It was. For us.”
He studied her. “What happened between us, Leona?”
She exhaled. “You don’t remember the beginning. But you were… beautiful. Alive. Wild. I’d never met anyone like you.”
“Sounds like a compliment.”
“It was. Until you changed.”
Adrian frowned. “Why?”
She met his eyes. “Because you started treating me like a possession. A trophy wife who should smile, obey, and disappear when it suited you.”
“That doesn’t sound like me.”
“It wasn’t, until the money started changing you.”
He looked away. “I don’t feel like that man.”
Leona’s voice dropped. “That’s the only reason I’m still here.”
That afternoon, Adrian invited them to the beach.
Just the three of them. No staff. No photographers. No suits.
Leona hesitated until Alora tugged her hand and said, “Please, Mommy? I wanna play in the water.”
And for the first time in weeks, Leona let herself say yes.
They drove down the coast in his vintage convertible. Adrian didn’t talk much, but he watched her from the corner of his eye, like trying to place a face in a dream.
The beach was private, soft golden sand tucked into a hidden cove. Leona took off her sandals and let her toes sink in.
“Last time I was here,” Adrian said, “I was alone.”
“Last time we were here,” she corrected, “you asked me to marry you.”
He froze.
Leona didn’t look at him. She knelt beside Alora and handed her a plastic shovel.
“Right over there,” she added, nodding to a rock outcrop. “You kissed me, then said you didn’t believe in marriage, but you couldn’t imagine losing me to someone else.”
He was silent.
Then he said, softly, “Sounds like I was obsessed.”
“You were.”
“And you ran.”
“I had to.”
He looked at her then,… looked. “Did I ever scare you?”
She hesitated.
“Emotionally,” she admitted. “You weren’t violent. But you were controlling. Cold. I kept thinking you’d snap… or I would.”
“And still, you married me.”
“I was stupid. In love.”
“Was?”
Leona turned sharply. “Don’t.”
Adrian held up his hands. “I’m trying to understand.”
“Well try harder without asking me to relive what broke me.”
That shut him up.
But Alora didn’t notice, She laughed as the tide tickled her feet, pointing at shells, talking to herself like the world was made of magic.
Adrian watched her in silence.
“She’s so… free,” he said.
“She hasn’t been touched by you yet,” Leona murmured.
His face darkened. “I want to know her.”
“Then stop thinking like a CEO and start acting like her father.”
He looked down at the sand, then crouched beside Alora. “Hi.”
She blinked at him, curious but shy.
“I’m Adrian,” he said softly. “That’s a pretty shell.”
Alora held it up. “It’s broken.”
“So am I,” he said quietly. “But maybe that’s okay.”
Leona felt something shift in her chest. A pull. A memory.
The way he used to speak was only when it mattered.
That night, Adrian knocked on her door again.
She didn’t answer, but he opened it anyway. She was sitting at the vanity, brushing her hair, back straight, spine like steel.
“I remember something,” he said.
She turned slowly.
“It was raining. You were barefoot. Standing in the garden at night. I was watching you from the window. I remember thinking… she doesn’t belong in this world.”
Her hand stilled.
“I don’t know why that stuck,” he said. “But it did.”
Leona swallowed. “I remember that night too. You’d just closed the deal on the Ferranti merger. I couldn’t sleep. You came outside and held my hand. Said you’d never let go.”
“I lied?”
“Yes.”
He moved closer, cautiously. “Leona.”
“Don’t.”
“I’m not asking to fix it.”
“Good. Because you can’t.”
“I just want to try. To be different.”
She turned to face him. “You already are.”
He looked at her then, full of quiet, raw apology.
But she wasn’t ready to receive it.
At midnight, she cried in the shower.
Not because she still loved him.
But because… maybe he was becoming the man she’d begged him to be.
And now, she didn’t know how to protect herself from that.
- Writer
