𝑱𝒆𝒇𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒚 𝑺𝒕𝒚𝒍𝒆𝒔

I bolt the backdoor, and then I retrace my steps into the kitchen, a large room with creamy white walls, polished ceramic tiles, and walnut countertops. The tea I made earlier is sitting on the center table, vapor escaping into the surrounding air. I pass my hand through my hair and let out a soft sigh.

As I walk toward the chair, I feel enormous guilt weigh me down, and I sense more depressive days to come. After the accident, nothing seems normal. What bothers me is the underlying circumstance that caused it.

Adrienne thinks it isn't my fault it happened but the truth is, it is. She only says that because she doesn't remember some of the events that took place before our accident. I don't know if I should be happy or sad that she doesn't remember entirely everything. I'm sure if she did, she'd have divorced me this very second.

Adrienne believes I'm the perfect husband, and I feel guilty I couldn't live up to that standard. Well, I used to be perfect until I made the biggest mistake of my life. I gave in to something I should have resisted, and now I am so embroiled in it that wanting out seems impossible.

I didn't understand how things could change in the twinkle of an eye, but experience has taught me to. We take risks every day without realizing it. Our lives are not guaranteed, yet we live it. I know crystal clear that the very car I drive can kill me in a matter of seconds, yet I drive it. I go to sleep without guarantee I'll wake up the next morning, but I still go to sleep. The only thing that keeps driving me is hope. Hope that things will get better. But sometimes, it seems like I'm believing too much in blind faith.

Adrienne feels like a different person to me. It's hard to say it, but I feel she's a stranger. You might be wondering how that's even possible. How you can develop such strange feelings for your spouse? I don't know how something like that happens, but I do know it's possible because I'm experiencing it. And in a way I never imagined. I can't explain why I'm having this thought of leaving my wife. It's uncanny and unpleasant, especially when I'm the reason she's in this state.

I'm grateful God gave us brains to reason. Otherwise, I would have done stupid things following my heart, although I did do a stupid thing that cost the memories of my beautiful wife. I feel I don't deserve Adrienne after what I did. Adrienne is pious, modest, and kind. She deserves someone better. Someone who will not break her heart and shatter her memories.

When you fall in love with the wrong person and you're not strong enough to see that they are not meant for you, you end up living miserably with them. But Adrienne and my story are different. I know we could have been happily married if I didn't blunder.

Sometimes I want to tell Adrienne the whole truth, but each time I try, I falter at the eleventh hour, bearing in mind that it's only going to aggravate the situation. I know from experience it's not good to keep secrets from your spouse. After all, what's the essence of getting married if you don't trust your spouse with your secrets?

I tell myself my situation is different. Adrienne is in no state to hear about what secrets I keep from her. She's already been through a lot and telling her about it would only drive her crazy. Already, she has spoken about self-harm to me once. I know she's been thinking about suicide, so I hired a psychotherapist for her. He's good at what he does. I haven't been physically present in any of their sessions, but I can see improvements in Adrienne's behavior since Dr. Hassan appeared in the picture.

I'm sure she's not thinking of self-harm anymore. I trust my wife, and I believe she wouldn't contemplate suicide. Even if she does, I'm certain she will not do it. Although she's not the same Adrienne I knew years back after the accident, I believe she wants to live and grow old with me. We used to talk about growing old together. It's something we want to do, and suicide will jeopardize it.

I sit in the walnut chair and clasp my fingers around the mug of tea that is gradually going cold. I take a dutiful sip, then I place it back and stare blankly into it, running a finger along the rim. I'm sure Adrienne hasn't gone to bed yet. She usually waits till I join her. She's probably sitting on the window sill and reading a book, or watching nothing particular.

She isn't the type to spend many hours in meditation, but now she does that very often. She's less interactive now. I don't remember the last time we talked for an hour. Our conversations have been short. She'll broach a topic, then trail off, and never say anything about it.

Sometimes she looks at me in a way I think she's going to strangle me, like I were an intruder. I feel I'm losing my wife. I'm happy she remembers some of our memories-both good and bad. On the other hand, I'm glad she doesn't remember what happened before our accident. I know it sounds selfish and cruel. No sane husband will be glad his spouse is suffering from amnesia. If feeling is what makes up an individual, then I think everyone is capable of being a monster.

I know your action determines who you are and right now, I'm trying to rectify my past actions, but sometimes the past doesn't remain the past. It finds a way back into your life. I don't know if that's karma or my punishment. I wish I could freeze time and go back to change so much, but that's beyond my power. I guess I have to live with it.

My Samsung Galaxy A14 chimes suddenly, startling me. I don't know why I get scared by minor events nowadays. Perhaps it has something to do with the fear that Adrienne might wake up one day and recover all her memories. God, I don't know what I'll do if she remembers. . .

My phone continues to chime, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pull it from my pocket and glance at the screen. Ella is calling, and I wonder why she'll be calling at this time of the night, but I'm curious too. I answer the call, and her sweet voice fills the line.

"Hello babe, I had an ultrasound scan performed today and guess what?"

I'm not ready to guess, and I don't want to guess, but hearing her voice reminds me of the fact that I'm going to be a father-one of my biggest dreams. Although I don't want to guess, the beautiful thought makes me want to, and I say happily, "It's a girl?"

When she giggles, I get a feeling I'm right.

"You guessed wrong, babe. It's a boy."

A wistful smile forms on my face. Boy or girl, it doesn't matter. The feeling of becoming a father is what matters. I've always wanted to be a father. Adrienne, on the other hand, didn't want to be a mother. The concept of childbirth isn't a topic she enjoys discussing. She made it clear we weren't going to have children till she was ready. I didn't object to that. I was in love, and all I wanted to do was be with her.

I'm not justifying my affair with Ella. I will not because it is a mortal sin to cheat on your spouse. I know that. Most of the sins we commit are sins we know. Hardly do we commit sins that we don't know.

My affair with Ella shouldn't have happened. I couldn't resist the attraction, and it culminated in an affair. I'll never forgive myself for it. Adrienne didn't deserve that. All she did was stay faithful, and I cheated. I don't like the sound of that. The sound of being the wrongdoer. It makes my skin crawl. Growing up, I have always been law-abiding. I don't normally go contrary to the rules, but I made a mistake, and I wholeheartedly accept it. I want Adrienne to forgive me, but I'm too scared to tell her.

"That's nice," I say.

"It is. You're going to be a father."

I can tell she's excited, and I am too. I only wish Adrienne was the person telling me this. That would have made me happier and more confident that I was going to be a father. I want to talk longer with her, but I have to be with Adrienne. It's getting late, and I know she won't sleep till I join her.

She quickly interrupts me when I'm about to say goodbye. "How's she?"

I don't like her referring to Adrienne as she. I also don't want to say anything to upset her. She's the mother of my unborn child, and Adrienne is my legitimate wife. I hate being in this dilemma.

"My wife's fine," I state, intending to correct her.

"I'm glad," she says, then she falls silent. "When are you going to tell her?"

That comes as a surprise, or maybe I've been expecting it. I'm not telling my wife I had an affair with her best friend, and she's now carrying my baby. I can't imagine doing it. It will drive Adrienne crazy. The last thing I want to do now is hurt her after everything I've done to her.

"I'm not telling her, babe," I say calmly, and I mean it. "I'll reconsider when she gets better."

A silence falls. After a while, she says, "All right. I hope she recovers."

I sigh. Ella is understanding. I like her for that. We say our goodbyes, and I hang up. Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I stand slowly and carry the mug to the sink, gulping the rest of the tea and placing the mug on the rim. I open the faucet and let the gushing water cleanse the mug as I squirt soap into it. Then I swish the mug, wash it thoroughly, and replace it with the stainless steel appliances in the cabinet.

It's quiet outside, and I feel a light breeze waft into the kitchen. I close the blinds, walk out, pass across hallways, and climb the stairs to the bedroom. Pushing the door gently, I step inside the cosy room. Adrienne is standing by the window. She turns and looks at me, and I notice her brows are puckered immediately after I enter. She shifts her eyes away from me to the window, then she stares into the empty street. When she looks at me again, it's as if she's seen a ghost.