WhenThe Door Closed
1252 Words
I’ll be leaving for a business trip.”
Alexander’s hand was already on his briefcase as the words left his mouth, his body angled toward the door.
“I’m sorry. It was urgent, and I didn’t inform you on time.” He checked his watch while he spoke.
Naomi crossed the distance between them in three quick steps, her arms wrapping around him before he could move away. She pressed her cheek against his chest, listening for the steady heartbeat that always calmed her.
His cologne filled her nose, the one she had bought him for Christmas. Her fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt, tightening, holding on.
“I’ll miss you.” The whisper came out broken as she felt his body stiffen.
Alexander’s hand came up to pat her back once, twice, while his eyes tracked the car waiting outside the window. He shifted his weight, his foot sliding toward the door. He pulled away first, gently but firmly peeling her hands from his shirt.
Naomi looked up at him, searching his face as her hands fell to her sides. Her lips parted, waiting.
His eyes slid away, landing on his briefcase, then the door. He grabbed his luggage.
She smiled anyway, though it trembled at the corners. Her feet carried her backward into the house, slow steps, her hand reaching out as if to call him back. At the doorway, she turned, gripping the frame to steady herself.
Alexander was already in his car, phone pressed to his ear. His head tipped back as laughter erupted at something said on the other end. The car door slammed. The engine roared.
Her smile collapsed.
Her fingers dug into the doorframe until her knuckles turned white.
Mrs. Victoria descended the stairs, her silk robe rustling. She studied Naomi’s face as she reached the bottom step.
“Has my son gone?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Naomi’s voice barely rose above a whisper.
“I’ll call him this evening.” Mrs. Victoria stepped closer, her hand lifting toward Naomi’s shoulder, hesitating midair. Her eyes lingered on the redness around Naomi’s eyes, the forced smile, the way her shoulders curved inward.
“Are you all right, dear?”
“I’m fine, ma’am.”
Naomi swallowed, releasing the doorframe to wrap her arms around herself. Mrs. Victoria’s lips pressed thin as her hand finally settled on Naomi’s shoulder.
“If you need anything…”
Naomi nodded and backed away, disappearing into her room. She closed the door and slid down it until she sat on the floor, her hand pressing hard against her chest as if she could stop the ache spreading through her ribs
.
Two days crawled by.
Naomi sat by the window, curled into a chair, watching the gardener trim the hedges. Snip. Snip. Snip. The house stretched around her, room after empty room.
Her finger traced a heart on the glass, slow and deliberate. Then her palm dragged across it, smearing it into nothing. She rocked slightly, arms wrapped around herself.
Her phone vibrated on the nightstand. Alexander’s name flashed across the screen.
Her heart hammered as she lunged for it, fumbling before her fingers found the answer button.
“Hello, my love. When are you coming back?”
“Hi, baby.” A woman’s voice drifted through the background.
Naomi froze mid-step. Her breath stopped. Her free hand flew to her chest, clutching at her shirt as the room tilted. She stumbled, gripping the desk to keep from falling.
“I’ll call you back.” The line went dead.
Naomi stared at the blank screen. Her thumb hovered over his name, shaking violently. She couldn’t press it. Her arm fell to her side.
“It’s one of his staff members,” she whispered as she sank onto the bed. “Just someone from his team.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, then another. She wiped at her eyes hard, shaking her head.
Outside the room, Mrs. Victoria paused, her ear pressed to the door. Naomi’s broken whisper filtered through, unmistakable. Mrs. Victoria raised her hand to knock, lowered it, raised it again, then pulled away and walked down the hall.
A car horn shattered the afternoon.
Naomi dropped the wooden spoon and rushed to the window. Alexander’s black Mercedes rolled into the driveway. Her breath fogged the glass as she smiled, wide and hopeful.
Alexander stepped out. His shoulders were hunched, his face gray, carved from stone. Each step toward the house was slow and heavy.
Naomi’s smile faded.
She hurried to the door, smoothing her apron, pushing her hair back, then forward, then back again. She yanked the door open, brightness forced into her face.
“Welcome home.”
Alexander brushed past her, his shoulder slamming into hers hard enough to spin her back a step.
“Get inside.”
Her hand flew to her shoulder. Words died in her throat as he disappeared down the hallway, his shoes clicking sharply against the marble.
“Mum, I’m back.” His voice softened as he moved farther away. “How are you feeling?”
Naomi stood frozen, the door still open behind her, cold air lifting the edges of her apron. The grandfather clock ticked beside her.
Mrs. Victoria appeared on the stairs and hurried down when she saw Naomi standing there, hand pressed to her shoulder.
“Naomi.”
“I’m fine, ma’am.” Her voice broke.
She closed the door and walked toward the kitchen, her shoulder hitting the wall once. Mrs. Victoria watched her go, hands twisting together.
Something was very wrong with her son.
Evening settled over the mansion. Naomi stirred soup at the stove, steam curling around her face. A tear dropped into the pot. She stirred it in
Footsteps approached.
“Babe, your food will soon be ready.”
Silence.
Alexander appeared beside her, buttoning a black coat. Naomi turned toward him, soup dripping from the spoon.
“Are you going somewhere?”
“I’m going out tonight.”
“But I made your favorite.” She stepped closer. “Please, Alexander. Just tonight.”
He stepped back before her fingers could touch him.
Her hand hung in the air, then fell.
“Alexander, please. Can we just talk—”
The door slammed.
Naomi flinched. The spoon slipped into the pot, hot soup splashing her apron. She didn’t move. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the tile floor, sobs tearing from her throat.
Mrs. Victoria rushed in and knelt beside her, pulling her close.
“Oh, my dear child.”
Naomi buried her face against her shoulder, crying until the sounds faded into gasps. Mrs. Victoria rocked her gently, one hand stroking her hair, the other clenched tight.
What had her son done?
Later, Naomi lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. The clock read 3:47 a.m. Alexander’s side of the bed remained untouched. She clutched his pillow, breathing in the fading scent of him.
Her phone lay silent.
Down the hall, Mrs. Victoria stared at her own phone, Alexander’s name glowing on the screen. She pressed call.
Voicemail.
She tried again.
Voicemail.
She lowered the phone, tears blurring her vision. She rose and walked to Naomi’s door, pressing her palm against the wood.
“I’ll fix this,” she whispered.
But fear tightened her chest.
Dawn crept closer.
Naomi lay still now, eyes dry and empty.
And when the sun rose, everything would change.
The truth would surface.
And they would learn just how deeply betrayal could cut.
- Writer
