Housewife

Aimer et être aimé.

To love and be loved.

Have you ever experienced the captivating allure of a blooming rose? Its petals unfurl in a mesmerizing dance that leaves you drunk with its sweet fragrance. The dew-laden leaves, trembling with the excitement of a new romance, seduce your senses. Have you ever longed for a rose, even while it wounded you with its prickly thorns? Irena was that once-in-a-lifetime flower, coveted by reckless hands that never intended to cherish her. Now, she’s a dead rose in my grasp. But even in her fading state, I find a unique beauty that transcends mere petals. Her wilted petals remind me that, even in death, love and beauty live on.

Enraptured, I observe as she dives headfirst into baking. The intoxicating aroma of chocolate and vanil a fills the air, causing my mouth to water with longing. Her tresses are neatly tucked up into a bun, while she dons a cozy, forest-green sweater and a pristine white apron. Suddenly, Irena strides over to me and extends a spoon brimming with chocolate mix.

‘Open up,’ she commands, and I oblige, allowing her to gingerly deposit the confection onto my tongue. With a quick swipe of my tongue, the perfect balance of sweetness and texture is revealed to me. Irena’s eyes light up with anticipation as she eagerly awaits my critique.

‘It’s delicious,’ I respond, eliciting a broad grin from her beaming face.

‘Alright, I’ll just pop these babies in the oven and let them do their thing,’

she announces. Swiftly spinning around, she retrieves the tray from the counter and slips it into the scorching oven, before firmly closing the door.

After dusting off her hands, Irena removes her apron and sets it aside before making her way over to me.

‘You’d be an amazing mother, Irena,’ I blurt out, and Irena nearly loses her balance. I swiftly grasp her wrists and draw her onto my lap with ease.

‘Where did that come from?’ she giggles, her eyes gleaming with delight.

‘Don’t you believe you’d make an excellent mother to our children?’ I ask.

She laughs once more, ignoring my probing stare while twirling strands of my hair between her fingertips. ‘No, it’s just that I never expected we’d be contemplating starting a family. It was the farthest thought from my mind.’

I shrug, enveloping her in a warm embrace. ‘Are ready to have children?’ I inquire, and she finally holds my gaze. ‘Are you?’

A soft snicker escaped from my lips as I revealed my deepest desire.

‘I’ve always dreamed of having a little girl – someone I can shield from the harshness of the world, tuck into bed at night, and spend mornings creating playful hairdos with. I want to engage in all the quintessential father-daughter activities,’ I explained with a wistful gaze.

Irena let out a heavy sigh and tenderly cupped my cheek. ‘When the time is right, Saint, I promise to give you the gift of fatherhood. But for now, I want to indulge in the freedom I never had growing up – enjoy every moment life has to offer.’

I was determined to make her every wish come true. ‘Alright tell me. What is it you want to do? Whatever it may be, I’ll make it happen right now.’

‘I understand that you have the ability to do it,’ Irena nods, chewing on her bottom lip. ‘However, I want to savour every moment and not rush into anything. We have all the time in the world.’ She goes on to explain how she desires to visit her family in Morocco and immerse herself in her mother’s culture. She is looking forward to exploring the neighbourhood, listening to her parents’ stories, having bonfires on the beach, dancing to Moroccan music, and indulging in fresh fruits and fish. With a glimmer of hope in her eyes, she muses about how she longs to feel entirely liberated.

‘Am I in the picture?’

‘Of course you are.’

‘But right now-‘ As she begins to articulate her thoughts, I silence her words with the tender press of my lips against hers. My mind is consumed by the intensity of the moment as her fingers entwine in my hair, eliciting a guttural moan. I reluctantly break away, knowing that succumbing to my desire would only complicate matters. ‘Doe, there’s no need to expound.

Take all the time you need, and I will be here eagerly awaiting the moment when your dream becomes our reality.’

Because for Irena I’d do anything, anything to make her happy.

With a sense of apprehension and determination, I drove through the gates of Abel’s mansion. As I pulled up beside his luxurious fleet of cars, I couldn’t help but wonder what awaited me inside. I knew that my unexpected visit would catch him off-guard, but the latest developments in my dealings with the notorious drug lord in the western hemisphere were too pressing to wait any longer.

Exiting my sleek Mercedes, I braced myself against the biting chill of the season. Dressed in stylish trousers and a crisp white tee, I covered up with a sophisticated trench coat. The guards stationed at the entrance ignored my fashion sense, giving me a brief nod before opening the imposing doors to the grandiose abode.

As I crossed the threshold, the hush of the interior engulfed me. The color palette of the expansive house was a somber gray, with every object seeming to be suspended in the stillness of the air.

‘Abel?’ I called into the depths of the house, my hands numb from the sharp chill in the air. Silence. I ventured deeper, languid footsteps betraying my unease. ‘Abel?’ My voice echoed hollowly, unanswered.

I knew it was a breach of his privacy, but something urgent weighed heavily on my mind. I swept through the library, bar, and Nirali’s painting room, my heart sinking with every empty corner.

Just when I thought I should give up, a door loomed ahead. Abel’s bedroom. I hesitated for a moment, then unlocked the door. Nobody. Just the faint rustle of movement. ‘I’m coming in,’ I warned, before shoving the door open. My eyes fell on Nirali, mascara streaks betraying a recent flood of tears, sitting on the bed.

Perplexed, I leaned against the door frame. ‘Oh, hey. I didn’t hear you,’ she murmured, hastily swiping at her face. ‘Where’s Abel?’ I asked, scanning the room for any sign of my brother. ‘Um,’ Nirali cleared her throat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, ‘he’s out.’

I finally muster up the courage to ask the question and a moment of silence passes before I speak. ‘What’s the matter? Why are you crying?’ I furrow my brows, searching for an answer. I question if Abel has hurt her, but Nirali quickly reassures me that he hasn’t committed any wrongdoing.

Despite our frequent arguments, a sense of sibling-like fondness has grown between Nirali and me over time. Although I would never admit it to her.

The only person who can truly perceive my affectionate side is my wife.

Next, I inquire further, urging Nirali to confide in me. She seems hesitant at first, but upon hearing my reassurance, she agrees to divulge her troubles.

‘You can trust me, Nirali,’ I say in a gentle tone.

Eventually, after much consideration, Nirali decides to speak. She stands up and walks past me, frowning deeply. ‘I need a drink for this,’ she mutters under her breath.

Silently tailing her lead, I follow her to the bar where she hands me a glass and pops a bottle of wine. But I shake my head, admitting that wine is not my go-to drink. She nods, understanding my preference, and flashes a weak smile. ‘More for me,’ she proclaims, filling her glass halfway.

As she takes a sip, her eyes flicker with emotions as she nibbles on her lip and fidgets with her fingers. I observe her in silence, sensing that she’s about to share something deeply personal.

‘I don’t know if Abel mentioned this to you, but we’re trying to have a baby,’ she confesses, her voice wavering. Tears glimmer in her eyes, and as her words spill out, they turn into full-blown sobs. ‘It’s been eight long months, and…I knew something was wrong so I secretly visited the doctor and found out that I can’t get pregnant,’ she finally admits, punctuating her confession with a choked laugh and torrents of tears.

With a laugh through the pain, she chokes out, ‘Saint, I’m unable to have children.’ I inquire, ‘Does Irena know?’ She responds, ‘No way, she’s already dealing with so much. I don’t want to burden her with my problems.’ She implores, ‘Please don’t tell her.’ I reassure her, ‘I had no intention of doing so.’

Nirali laments. ‘It feels like I’ve let everyone down. Abel, my parents, myself.’

I pause for a moment, contemplating the weight of her words. ‘It’s understandable to feel that way,’ I sympathize. ‘But infertility is not a failure.

It’s a challenge, and one that you can overcome together.’

Nirali looks up at me with pained eyes. ‘But it’s not just the physical aspect of it. It’s the emotional toll, the feeling of emptiness.’

I nod in agreement. ‘It’s a journey that’s not often talked about, but that doesn’t mean you have to go through it alone. And as for Abel, he loves you unconditionally. Your infertility does not define you, and it certainly won’t change the way he feels about you.’

Tears well up in Nirali’s eyes as she cries out, ‘Why me? Why do I have to go through this?’

I gently take the glass out of her hand and draw her close to my chest. ‘Life is unfair sometimes, but you’re strong enough to make it through this. You’ll get through it together with Abel.’

‘All I ever wanted to be was a mother Saint,’ she whispered as she cried into my chest.

Meeting Irena was like unlocking a new level of emotions within me.

Normally, I would have brushed off issues like this, but the sight of my little sister-in-law in tears had me feeling the urge to comfort her.

‘You’re a strong woman, Nirali. Don’t let this be the reason for you to throw in the towel. You’ve come so far, and I know you’ll find a way to triumph over this. But the first step is to tell Abel, okay?’ I assure her, gently wiping away her tears. Her gaze meets mine, and she nods in agreement.

‘I know,’ she sighs, her eyes shifting to my damp shirt. ‘I’m sorry about-‘

I wave off her apology. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘Thank you,’ she whispers, a small smile gracing her lips.

‘If you need anything, anything at all, you know I’m just a phone call away, okay?’ I remind her, hoping to alleviate some of her worries.

She nods, her smile growing more genuine. ‘Okay.’

‘Let’s keep this between us,’ she quips, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

I smirk and shake my head in response. ‘God forbid the world finds out we can actually stand each other.’ We both chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

With a sniffle, she wipes away her tears. ‘Thank you for being here for me,’ she murmurs, her voice heavy with emotion. I nod, offering quiet reassurance. ‘You’re stronger than you think. You’ll get through this.’

She lets out a pessimistic sigh. ‘I hope so,’ she mutters, but I can see a glimmer of hope in her eyes.