The daylight streams through the enormous windows of the penthouse, however it doesn’t feel warm. The room is colder than it ought to be. I sit on the edge of the couch, my fingers absentmindedly following the edge of my coffee cup, attempting to discover some similarity to calm. But, it’s hard. All that feels like it’s getting past me.
“Leila, we really need to talk.”
I take a quick look up to find Alexander standing in the doorway, his expression more strained than usual. His suit is perfectly tailored, his dark eyes shadowed, but there’s something in his voice that cuts through the stiffness like a sharp dagger. The weight of his words lands heavily in the space between us.
“About what?” I ask, trying to keep my tone even. But even I can hear the frustration persist in staying beneath the surface.
He steps forward, his jaw clenched. “You know damn well what.” He makes a gesture slightly at the room, at the whole situation. “The business, the sabotage, the fact that we’re being attacked from all sides.”
I nod slowly, but my throat becomes tight. “I know. I’ve seen the reports. I’ve heard the whispers in the halls of your company.” My words linger palpably, weighty with the strain we both feel. “In any case, I don’t have any idea what I should do about it.”
Alexander moves closer, and his eyes soften, just a little. “I didn’t marry you to be my problem–solver, Leila.”
–
His words cut deeper than I expect, leaving a sting that feels like it’s eating at my chest. “Then what was the point?” I stand in an abrupt manner, pushing the mug away. “You needed me here, however you have little to no faith in me enough to give me access. You’ve made it understood — this marriage is only an agreement.. And I’m supposed to accept that.”
He flinches slightly, the tension in his shoulders shifting. “It’s not that simple.”
I cross my arms, looking away. “Then explain it to me, because I don’t understand anymore.. I never requested this. But, I’m right here, in a day to day existence I didn’t choose, married to a man who won’t let me be a part of it.”
Briefly, the quietness between us is stunning. Alexander runs a hand through his hair, his eyes shooting away from me.
“Leila,” he begins, his voice quieter now. “I’m trying to protect you. Protect us.‘
11
I can’t stop myself from scoffing. “By shutting me out? By making decisions that affect both of us without ever talking to me about it?”
His eyes sharpen. “You fail to really see what’s in question. You don’t see the bigger picture. I have people to answer to. I can’t let anyone else see my weakness, especially not now.”
The words hit harder than I expect. His weakness. The thing he’s always so afraid of showing. “So, this is it then?I’m simply expected to remain in in the dark, to pretend that everything seems OK, while you face a conflict that I don’t have the foggiest idea about the rules to?”
“You don’t have the foggiest idea what it resembles to be in my situation,” he snarls, his dissatisfaction rising. “To have all that you’ve worked for gradually disintegrate while people you confided in turn on you.
I don’t expect you to understand, Leila. I never did.”
His words feel like a slap, the emotional wall he’s built between us growing higher with every syllable. But I can’t stop myself from pushing back. “Then help me understand. Show me what you’re going through, or if nothing else let me help.”
He makes a stride back, running a hand over his face. “You don’t get it. I’ve gone through my time on earth building this empire, and presently somebody is attempting to destroy it. Furthermore, I can’t simply He cuts himself off, his voice trailing off into something looking like exhaustion.
I take a step toward him, my voice softening. “Alexander… please.”
–
His look shifts to me, something raw blazing in his eyes for a moment. “I didn’t want this life for you,” he murmurs, nearly to himself. “You merit more than this. More than me,”
I’m struck by the heaviness of his words, and the weakness in his voice. Briefly, maybe the mask he’s been wearing slips barely enough so that I could see the man behind it somebody who’s been harmed, who’s been double–crossed, who’s worrying about a concern he doesn’t have any idea how to
share.
I reach for him instinctively, my hand brushing his arm. “You’re not alone in this, Alexander.”
He hardens yet doesn’t pull away. “You don’t have the foggiest idea what it’s like. You’re not part of this world. You don’t understand the stakes.”
I can hear the apprehension in the most natural sounding way for him, and it disrupts me. I want to answer, to reassure him that I’m some spectator in his life, however the words stick in my throat. How can I explain what I want him to hear when he’s locked so firmly away?
“We can sort this out together,” I say, the words more frantic than I expect. “You don’t need to carry this alone.”
He turns his head somewhat, his lips squeezing together in a slight line. “I’m not sure I can trust anybody with this. Least of all you.”
1/2
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I feel the sting of his words more than I want to concede. My hands ball into clench hands at my sides. “Then why did you marry me?” I demand, the frustration breaking through. “Why did you pull me into this if you didn’t trust me? If you didn’t think I could handle it?”
He looks away, his jaw tight, his breathing shallow. “Because I thought… maybe you’d be different.”
The words hang between us, lingering palpably like a challenge, a declaration. There’s something there, something I can’t exactly place, but it’s too momentary to even think about clutching.
I make a stride back, my heart beating in my chest. “I need to understand you, Alexander. I need to show up for you. However, I can’t do that assuming you continue to shut me out.”
For a long moment, neither of us talks. The unease between us is intense, thick with words implicit and feelings unsaid. Alexander moves awkwardly, as if the heaviness of his own thought is an excessive amount to handle.
At long last, he talks, his voice calmer than before. “Please accept my apologies, Leila. I… I don’t have the foggiest idea how to make this right.”
And just like that, the walls between us feel somewhat less invulnerable.
But before I can answer, the phone on the table vibrates, its screen illuminating with a critical notification. Once more Alexander looks at it, his face solidifying. “I need to go,” he says abruptly.
I watch as he goes to leave, my heart soaking in my chest. Yet again the concise snapshot of weakness he showed me appears to fade, replaced once again by the cold, distant man he’s always been.
As the entryway closes behind him, I stand frozen completely still, the quiet gulping down me. There’s a part of me that wants to connect with, stop him, but I know better. He’s not ready. Not yet.
However, I can’t shake the inclination that this second is only the start of something undeniably more confounded. And I’m not sure I’m prepared for
what comes next.
