17. Ethan

seventeen

I kept my eyes trained on the footage as I watched her twirl and gesture down the stairs. It was the CCTV footage of the house where I watched Sophie whenever I felt like it.

I hadn”t used it in a while. I suddenly found the urge to. But it wasn”t Sophie I was watching now.

Her hands continued to gesture towards her heart and outward, her mouth opening and closing dramatically. I couldn”t quite figure out her actions.

When Evie reached the base of the stairs, she turned both sides as if searching for something. I narrowed my eyes when she hunched. Was she hurt?

She did a small lady-like bow at the end before jogging into the playroom. When I realized what she did, a small smile tilted my lips at the act.

The sight of a twenty-one-year-old performing down the stairs was quite amusing. Wait, amusing?

I quickly shut the lid of my system. What the fuck was I doing? Fuck.I really was conflicted. Greatly.

It would be cowardice to deny that I was barely hanging by a thread. It would be the same to deny that Evie was starting to affect more than just my dick. Fuck. Evie was starting to live rent free in my head… my thoughts.

I could barely do anything without thinking about her. I tried to convince myself that Sophie was the reason I remembered the footage, but a large chunk of that reason was her. Evie. This was bad.

First, I called her two days ago into my office, talking about how she was helping me and shit. Now, watching her like a creep?

I’m Ethan Thorne. For fuck sake, I don”t have time for useless conversations. I never forged ahead in a decision when I knew the risks outweighed the benefits. It was common business knowledge. So, what the fuck was wrong with me?

Despite the glaring risk, why couldn”t I get my mind off her?

I buried my face in my palms.

There were important company matters to tend to.

The researchers from Minnesota arrived yesterday. They’d delayed this long for whatever issue, but they were here now.

The new investor, Mr. Charles, for the surgical robots, was already on our necks for the first testing.

The deadline was approaching. I’d announced to the team, including Evie, that we couldn’t afford to slack, yet here I was.

I refilled my glass of whiskey, downing the glass in two large gulps. Perhaps Doctor Amelia could have the answer. Picking my car key from my table, I exited the office and the building.

Driving outside the parking lot, I fisted the wheel of my car.

I hadn”t been this disturbed, not since Olivia. A dull ache streamed through my chest at the thought. Olivia.

There wasn”t time to grieve too much after Olivia’s death. I had Sophie to care for. I had my company to run. And though it hurt when she died, I had to move on quickly.

It was easier to do that because, somehow, her death paved the way for my freedom. Marriage to Olivia was like drowning in an endless ocean, and after years of struggling to float, I could finally breathe.

But that didn”t last when I started to see the reality that my daughter might remain mute for the rest of her life. I still blamed myself for Sophie’s predicament. That was enough to rid any other activity, including women.

Shortly after Olivia’s death, I received proposals from models, actresses, and women in power on how they wanted to be with me. Most were for selfish desires. The few that weren’t didn”t interest me. Nothing outside work and Sophie interested me.

Olivia made it that way. She fucked with my head…

I was a good father but not the perfect husband... at least to Olivia. In her eyes, I never did right, and she was never satisfied with my efforts. And when I did put in more effort, trouble was all I got.

Heated arguments were my reward for trying to make peace. Chaos became the new normal.

***

Four Years Ago

The night I realized I lost my wife.

We just sealed a huge deal—a domestic robotics contract we”d worked on for months. This deal with the Chinese was tough, but now that we”ve finally sealed it, I was happy. My employees were, too.

I glanced at the hardworking faces of everyone in the conference room as they applauded me, basking in the well-deserved praise.

“Thank you, everyone. Your support and contributions have gone a long way in achieving this. Therefore, I urge you all to keep doing your best. Together, we’ll shape the future of robotics.”

Another round of applause thundered as I took my seat. Soon after, the meeting was dismissed, and I was on my way home.

Driving tonight felt much easier. Usually, when I was tired, it felt like a job. But not tonight.

Tonight, many things were different. The view of the nightlife, the city lights… everything, including my feelings.

It was only my second year of marriage, and things had become less rosy. In fact, it was filled with thorns, lots of thorns. And they pricked me each time, leaving me bleeding.

Every day I closed from work, my mind was filled with thoughts of the impending future. Thoughts of what would happen next. Of what I’d face.

Apart from the fact that it was inevitable, I had these thoughts to prepare myself. Depending on what I felt, I would either avoid, remain silent, or engage. Most times, I remained silent. Recently, I”d been avoiding.

And no, it wasn”t cowardice. It was the only way to achieve peace and to give my daughter a normal life.

I rolled down the window. Tonight, I wanted to feel the fresh air on my face. The taste of freedom. Maybe then I could devise a working strategy to cope with my wife.

It wasn’t like I hadn”t tried to figure out how to make peace in my home.

I bought gifts, hired nannies, and chefs. I made sure she didn”t have to worry about a single thing. But none of them worked.

How could it? When I couldn”t understand the root cause? I’d tried to analyze the pattern, but there was none. Each day unveiled a different issue. No, it was the same issue.

Sometimes, it manifested as a subtle threat, other times as angry profanities or a calculated silence.

All these were a silent battle I faced. Convincing myself that issues like this arose, and it only stemmed from conflict of interest, was the only way I could manage the situation. It was the only way I could push myself to do more.

The only way I could keep taking the blame.

The root cause of our argument was usually my time. She complained I spent a lot of hours at work and never had time for her.

But I was only a man doing everything I could to achieve my goals and give my daughter the best life— something I lacked while growing up.

Honestly, I did my best to balance my work-life. And today, like every other day, I intended to do more— extra this time. It was a happy night for me, and I wanted to share it with my wife.

I pressed on the brake when I noticed the red light from the traffic light. Clenching the steering wheel, I turned to the side and inhaled the night breeze.

While we were dating, Olivia was the perfect girl. Petite, blonde, with amber eyes, she was beautiful, respectful, and humble. I loved her for that.

I met her at a conference. She piqued my interest when she bumped into me and quickly apologized. After that, we talked and I got to know a little about her.

She worked hard and earned a decent living. Her life was pretty simple. She owned a jewelry and flower store, had a decent number of friends, and one best friend.

I loved her aura, eloquence, and charisma. We started dating, and after a year, I proposed. If only I knew the mess I was getting myself into.

I returned my attention to the road once the light turned green and stepped on the accelerator. But instead of a straight drive, I turned down another road.

It was the road to a florist. After a couple more minutes, I arrived at the shop. I exited the car.

Peace. I needed to make peace until she regained her senses.

“Good day. I need a flower bouquet, and I want it with a note.”

After receiving my order of a bouquet of red roses and a small I love you note I entered my car and continued my journey home.

Pushing away the negative thoughts was a lot of work, but I did it. I arrived at the mansion with a thick breath.

The first thing I did was to see my one-year-old in her room. I knew she’d be in her room.

I had stayed in the office later than my closing hour. But it was just this once. I never failed to see Sophie in the morning and evening when I got back from work.

As expected, she was asleep. With a small smile, I gently removed a single rose from the bouquet. Then dropped it beside her cot.

“I love you,” I whispered. Then, carefully exited the room.

The next step was to see Olivia. I made my way to her room. When I got there, I stared at the door for a minute.

She had her room. She decided to move to the guest bedroom a couple of months ago.

After loosening the tie around my neck, I knocked. There was no response. I hit three more times before the door clicked open.

I was met with her familiar figure. Messy hair, singlet, and a mini skirt. I didn”t have the strength to be turned on. All I wanted to do now was ensure peace.

“How are you?” I managed a smile at her.

She arched her brow, perhaps a bit surprised that I was here. “I don”t know. As fine as I can be?”

“I feel a little better tonight. My comp—”

She interrupted with a scoff. “Of course you do.”

I watched her eyes scan my appearance when they landed on the bouquet. “And who is that for? Your side chick?”

Today, it was the side chick accusation. I would never have guessed since this subject was once in a while.

I took a deep breath. “No, Olivia. If it was, I wouldn’t have them here in our home.”

A strand of hair escaped her bun as she leaned against the side wall.

“So, you do have a side chick.”

“Olivia, please, not tonight.” I breathed again. “I”ve just won—”

“Oh. So now I’m the problem?” she straightened herself. “You know, this is what I hate about you. You do something and then make me feel like I”m the problematic one. I”m sick of this.”

I clenched the flowers tighter. I had hopes. I’d really hoped this would take a different turn, but now it seemed hopeless.

“Olivia, please just hear me out,” I begged.

She stared at me for a while, silence settling between us. As she curled and uncurled her lips, only one question came to mind. What happened to the woman I married?

I took the stretching silence as an opportunity. “Remember the domestic robotics project I’ve been working on?”

I could tell from the look in her eyes that she didn”t remember. She never did.

“…Well, I won the contract today.”

Another round of silence filled the air.

“Congratulations.” Her voice was dry and sounded forced.

I waited for more. When she didn”t say anything, I spoke. “Look, Olivia-—”

“What is this?” She interrupted.

“I”m trying to—”

“This isn’t trying. This is forcing a conversation and making things awkward.”

I tugged at my hair, my breath rising with each second.

“Ethan, you”re a workaholic. You’re barely there for me. You barely pay attention to me and never have time for anything aside from your company. Of course, you won the contract. I mean, if you didn”t, then it means you’ve been lying about work.”

It was taking a lot to restrain my anger, but I was trying. “Stop.”

“You don”t like to hear the truth.”

I could feel the anger crawling up my chest.

“That is not true. You claim I don”t do things, but I do. I do everything I can to maintain a healthy balance between work and home.”

“You need to try harder.”

The anger crawled up my throat to my mouth.

Suddenly, I exploded. “I”ve never missed any important event in your life or Sophie”s. You fucking knew me before we got married. You knew how much time my company consumed. Even then, I still do my best to balance my time. I close work by four and only stay late when I have to. I don”t do unnecessary outings. I fired my previous assistant because you didn”t like her. Fuck. I don”t even sleep with my wife anymore, and it”s only our second year of marriage. What more do you want, Olivia?”

She slammed the door in my face. I opened it up before she could lock it. “Answer me!”

She turned with an angry face. “Congratu-fucking-lations for doing the bare minimum. And when you recall important events, what happens, uh? You bring some stupid flowers and take me to cliché restaurants.”

“… I want to go on vacation. Spend weeks without having to worry that my fucking husband has some company at stake. I want to have your attention! How hard is that for you to understand, Ethan. When I”m in my store, I see ladies come with their husbands. He picks flowers for them, and it”s all lovey dovey.”

“I fucking give you flowers, Olivia. Look at this.” I raised the flowers. “I do things for you. You just don’t appreciate them because you”re too fixated on others.”

She shook her head frantically. “That”s the difference. You give. Those husbands take their wives there! It doesn”t feel like a duty to them. They actually love their wives, and they show it. But you…” she shook her head. “I don”t know. You… you see it as a fucking duty….as a way to appease me just so I can keep my fucking mouth shut. I don”t want to be loved like that.”

“And this isn’t just about flowers. It”s about everything you do that makes me feel this way. I want to feel like a wife, not just be one. How many times do I have to say this?!”

“This is us! We’re different. And you should support me. A wife should support her husband. She should acknowledge when he’s making compromises and encourage him to do better.”

“So, what do you want? A pat on the back for doing the bare minimum?”

“Stop calling it that,” I growled, my fist clenched in fury. The urge to smash something was overwhelming.

She glanced at it and then back at me.

“Oh...” Her eyes furrowed in mockery. “You know I could ruin all you’ve worked for in the twinkle of an eye. All it’ll take is to run to the media and tell them you hit me. Better still… you raped me.”

Jesus Christ!

“What?” My fist loosened.

“So, you should be thankful that I am at least a wife in that regard.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” I snarled.

“You know me, Ethan. You know I like to dare.”

She brushed past me, hitting my arm with her shoulders as she did so. I fisted my hair, the anger doubling in my bloodstream. But all I could do was watch as she rapidly backed me against the wall.

***

Present Moment

She threatened me with other things. That she’d leave and take Sophie. That she’d make sure Sophie grew up to hate me. But it was never that she’d ruin all I’d worked for.

That was the night I knew I needed anger management. I was smart enough to know her gimmicks– that she was only drawing me closer to a cliff. One where I’d either jump off myself or she’d tip me over the edge.

I thought of divorce countless times. But what then was love if I couldn’t persevere during her phase of emotional tantrums? How, then, would my daughter live a normal life?

I was a man and needed to hold it together. Even if it cost me my mental health.

I arrived at Doctor Amelia’s forty minutes later. I followed the usual part from the door to the hallway. In four strides, I was in front of her door.

I knocked and entered when she responded.

“Oh, Mr-”

“I need to talk.” There wasn”t any need for formalities.

She made a small gesture with her hand. “Please, by all means.”