I'd cleaned up after everyone that night. It was almost eleven. Mother and Father had gone to bed hours ago, their bedroom door locked as always. Even Vivi, who usually stayed up late talking to her friends, had turned in early—something about how Lena told her she'd get a pimple if she didn't get a full eight hours of sleep.
I sank onto the couch, stretching my sore feet. The house was quiet except for the ticking clock in the hallway. The smell of dinner still hung in the air.
Adrian hadn't come home yet. I'd called twice; he hadn't picked up. His dinner sat on the dining table under plastic wrap, the sauce congealing at the edges.
I watched the clock like a hawk. Ten minutes. Twenty. An hour. Eventually, the steady rhythm of the ticking lulled me into half-sleep.
When the keypad beeped at the door, my eyes snapped open. The digital clock on the wall glowed 11:57.
I sat up quickly, running a hand through my hair. I'd even made an effort tonight—showered after dinner, put on a dress that still fit my new figure, touched up my face with makeup and lipstick Lena gave me.
"You're home,"
He flinched backward, almost stumbling. "God, you scared me! Why are you sitting in the dark like that?"
"Sorry," I mumbled, standing. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"For goodness' sake," he muttered, exhaling sharply as he dropped his briefcase on the stool nearby. The sound echoed through the quiet house.
"Um…" I started, trying to think of something to say—something considerate, like Lena had told me. But my mind went blank. So I settled for something familiar.
"Are you going to have dinner? I saved some for you," I asked, already moving toward the kitchen. Maybe he'd notice the lipstick. Maybe he'd say something.
He stared at me, then at the clock. "Are you stupid? How am I supposed to eat at midnight?"
"I—" I hesitated. "I didn't know if you'd eaten or not. You didn't answer my calls, so I thought I'd save some in case—"
He yanked his tie loose hard enough to make me flinch. His jaw tightened. "So what, you're mad I didn't pick up?"
"I–I didn't say that," I whispered. "I—"
"Well, I was busy, Star. Working. For this family." His voice grew sharper, each word cutting through the quiet. "Something you wouldn't understand, since you were handed everything. If I didn't work night and day to keep the company alive, your money would be gone and you'd have nothing."
"Adrian, please," I said quickly. "I appreciate everything you do for me. I know that. I didn't mean—"
"I'm tired, okay?" He rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Can I just go to sleep without you mumbling about every little thing? I can barely hear you anyway."
He paused, his voice dropping lower. "Why can't you just be normal, Star? You constantly make people uncomfortable. You and Lena are so different, and you say you grew up together. Why can't you be more like her?"
My throat closed up. Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away. He hated when I cried.
"God, always testing my patience," he muttered, stepping past me and heading upstairs.
I stayed where I was, listening to the sound of his footsteps fade down the hall.
Even I wished I was more like Lena—pretty, easy to talk to, the kind of person people gravitated toward. Instead, I always stuttered when I was nervous. When I got stressed, I ate.
But I was trying. I really was. Every morning, I practiced smiling in the mirror. I rehearsed conversations in my head, little things we could talk about. But when I opened my mouth, everything came out wrong, and I'd see that look of irritation in his eyes again.
I really wished I was easier to love. Maybe then I wouldn't have to try so hard and still end up hurt. I really was pathetic. Even my husband couldn't stand me.
I placed a hand on my stomach, rubbing gently until I felt the faint kick beneath my palm.
"But you, baby," I whispered, "I just know you'll always love me. And I'll always love you too. I promise—you'll always feel it."
The next morning, I wanted to apologize to Adrian for what happened last night. After sleeping on it, all I wanted was to make things right again. I just wanted us to be happy.
More than anything, I was afraid of doing something wrong—of disappointing him. Lately, it felt like everything I did upset him. Maybe it was because I was pregnant, and not as available as I used to be. Maybe it was because my body had changed.
Maybe it was because of the last time—
The sound of the shower shutting off in the bathroom pulled me out of my thoughts. I stood from the chair where I'd been waiting. Steam drifted through the open door as Adrian stepped out, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist.
"Good morning," I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.
He didn't answer. He walked straight past me into the walk-in closet, his damp footprints darkening the carpet.
I swear there was a time he used to look at me like I was his whole world. I swear he used to light up when he saw me, and I did the same for him.
I met him when I was eighteen, fresh out of St. Agnes's Orphanage, a Catholic home run by nuns who believed discipline was the same thing as love. I was still figuring out how life worked outside its walls.
He was my first everything—my first love, my first kiss, my first home.
He'd been so handsome then, with hair that caught the light like gold and eyes that could stop a room. Even now, I still thought he was the most handsome man I'd ever met.
I always thought I was plain next to Lena, but when Adrian looked at me, I believed I might actually be beautiful. I would do anything to get that back. I really would.
"Honey, please," I said softly, standing at the doorway. "I'm sorry about last night. I didn't mean to be inconsiderate. I'm really sorry. Please forgive me." My hand gripped the edge of the doorframe for balance, as if the words themselves weighed too much.
He sighed—a bad sign—but I clung to hope anyway.
"I forgive you," he said flatly. "It's fine. Things are hard for me right now, and I don't need you making them harder or more complicated."
"I promise I'll do my best not to make things harder for you. I hate when you're upset with me," I said quickly. "So I was thinking maybe we could get some air together today. It's the baby's appointment with the doctor." I twisted a strand of my short bob between my fingers. "I'd like it if you came. We could grab dinner after."
Because I miss you. The old you. But the truth was I would take any version of you, any one at all, as long as it wasn't one that hated me.
"I'm sorry, I can't. Take Mom with you or something."
I tried to hide my disappointment. "Mother said she already made lunch plans with her friends. Please," I said, forcing a small smile. "Please, I really want you to see the baby too." I reached for his hands.
He pulled away. "Are you serious? What the hell is wrong with you? I have meetings today, you can't just mess up my schedule out of nowhere."
"I told you last week about it," I whispered, my voice small. "It's our baby…"
He cut me off, stepping closer until I had to back up. "Is that what the apology was for? To strong-arm me?"
His voice dropped lower, darker. "You don't control me, Star. Just because we're married doesn't mean you get to control me."
"I didn't—I didn't mean that," I stammered. "I was just nervous because of what happened last time. With the last baby." The words scraped against my throat. I held back tears at the thought of it, that this wasn't my first baby, but my second.
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Look, we have different responsibilities. I already have my hands full taking care of this family. So maybe do your job and just carry the fucking baby properly. You wanted one so badly, I gave it to you, and now you're saying you can't even do that right? I'm not going to hold your hand. You're an adult, get your shit together."
"I'm sorry," I whispered. The guilt hit me all over again. The doctor had said it wasn't my fault, but I never believed him. Deep down, I hated myself so much. For never doing anything right.
He turned away slightly, his voice sharp as glass. "Do you ever think, just maybe, you're so fucking selfish, Star?"
All the time.