Faint giggles pierce through the painful memory, the vision from those days blurs. An acute pain like a knife being twisted in my guts drags me back to the present, my new reality, I suck in a shaky breath, blinking until the haze clears and I remember where I am. What I am doing. What I always do. Stalk her.

Hell will be too chill a place for me if she finds out but who will tell her?

Not me. I can't slip up on an act I have had going for nearly five years. I have become a pro at stalking her, a proud one at that. If she wasn't so stiff, so unresponsive, I wouldn't have resorted to this.

If she had kept to her words and empty promises, we might have worked things out.

You are my beginning, my middle, my end. I scoff. Indeed. Your sins are forgivable. You are mine, I will always love you. Right until it was time to prove it. Promises upon promises. All of them, fake and empty.

Running a hand over my face, I release my breath slowly like I had learnt over the years to curb the deep anger that always followed thoughts of her. All I have lost, all I-we could have been as a family. She gave me hope. A glimpse of our future in those months, had me wishing for the unattainable with her plenty of promises. When time came for her to stand by her words, she walked away without a glance.

No, I did. She deserves that house. But it doesn't change the fact she chose to watch me leave.

If anyone had told me this would be my lot-an estranged relationship with the mother of my kids, the woman who hates the sight of me and is disgusted by my mere presence, I would have laughed in their faces. Gave them a pat on their backs or some spare cash for assuming I would let any woman bear my kids.

For daring to think I would have a wife who would worm her way into my heart, break it into a million pieces and throw it in my face. I would have bought the person bottles of fine whiskey so he could get high on quality drinks and spew meaningful rubbish that had little chances of happening.

Now, I am all I said I would never be. A father with beautiful kids I love more than life itself, a husband who misses his wife so much he is watching her without her knowledge because that's the closest he will ever get to her. I slap a sweaty palm over my forehead, I am so pathetic. If she walks in this moment, she will smell the desperation leaking from me and race out of the room to avoid contaminating herself.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

It's not entirely her fault. Maybe it is, her and her ability to draw the truth out of me. If I had kept my lips sealed, we would be fine. We would still be a family, a small but happy one. Now, all I have left to remember us is a mug, a key holder and a locket I pretend to hate. And our kids, our twins. God knows I have managed to stay sane all these years because of those troublesome angels, the only calm in this drama I call my life.

They must be in school now, I don't get them until Friday, my new favourite day of the week.

Bending my laptop screen to get the perfect view of Elna's bewitching body, a smile curves my lips when her robe drops to the floor to reveal her in her naked glory. As always, she traces the stretch marks on her tummy, marks that appeared after the twins' birth. That odd look creeps into her eyes as she stares into the mirror and I have to push my phone away to stop myself from sending her an appreciation text.

She is beautiful just the way she is. Those stretch marks don't diminish her beauty or awesomeness. For fuck sake, she brought two treasures into this world, she needs to give herself and body more credit. And oh, Lord, look at those breasts. Those brown nipples I miss running my tongue over. Sucking them.

A lot of good has come from her having our twins. Fuller breasts I want to bury my face in, trace my dick between her mounds. Thicker thighs I want to spend most of my evenings between. I have always loved her body but this right here is Elna 2.0; an upgraded version of herself, curves and all. I want her. In all, childbearing gave her a new body, one I never got the chance to appreciate with my hands and tongue.

The twitching in my groin has me shooting out from my swivel chair, I pull off my slacks without taking my eyes off the screen and yank my shirt open, causing black buttons to roll to the floor. I didn't get a chance to change out of my office attire. With the success of the electric cars and the insane demands, I have little or no time to take care of myself. Throw in the twins and I'm a mess. A rich, lonely mess.

I miss my wife. I miss hearing her laughter, screams. She would have chewed my head off if she learnt I was surviving on less than two square meals a day. A lecture would follow her screams, an assurance of her love and a lunch pack daily to avoid me skipping meals with kisses to make up for shouting at me.

Elna. I miss that woman, I miss kissing away her tears even though I was a huge source of them. I was an asshole but I miss her and her high demands for sugar. The piggyback rides she forced out of me until it became a routine and her bump could no longer allow it. Her patience and understanding with me.

No one looks at me the way she does, I don't know how she manages to make me feel like I am the best man on earth. But she does. I am the worst but she looked past my sins and saw me. Until she found out about him. He should have stayed inexistent. Even in death, the bastard still found a way to ruin my life.

Motherfucker.

One would think sharing a womb with him would have made us best buddies. What a joke. For him, his needs come first, even at the detriment of everyone around him. And they encouraged it, those poor excuses of a parent, they are as much to blame as he is. Joshua was lucky to get away from them early.

We could have been close. We were, at some point, however short a period that was but he had to let them sway him. A post over his brother, his twin. I would never betray someone I love that way but he is not me. That regular throbbing starts in my temple, I let my fingers run in circles around it until it eases. I hope he is made the CEO in one of hell's departments, the position he ruined my daughter's life for.

I'll probably be made his assistant when I die because there is no way heaven will accept a fucked soul like mine. If El can't, no one else will. And fuck her too for making me this way. The marriage was more out of convenience. Her father might be old and fragile but he is the master of trickery, he lured me.

I had to go on a date-that never happened-with his only daughter and the next second, her old man was suggesting marriage. Filling my ears with the needs of a wife. While I was running my investigations on him, he was also doing his. He had me where he wanted, he knew about my secret longing for a wife.

If he had given me an uglier picture of her to look at, I might have turned down the proposal. But he had to show me a picture where she was smiling so bright at the camera. Her hair falling over her face with her eyes reflecting happiness. He called her an angel and it was no lie. But that angel broke me. She left.

The sound from my laptop jolts me out of my reverie, I groan when El bends to retrieve the cap of one of the numerous creams on the counter, giving me a sensual view of her round, perky ass. Her ass grew bigger too and I can't wait to have my hands, mouth and tongue on them, to know if they remained soft. Left to her, my secret fantasies will never be fulfilled but it doesn't stop me from hoping, from wishing.

That position is perfect. I will stand behind her while she's bent at angle ninety, fingers touching the floor, body convulsing as I ram into her. Maybe we will try the anal sex she hates so much after she sucks me off. Fuck me if I say I don't want that. I need to have that sharp mouth impaled on my dick.

To have her batting those long eyelashes at me while she fondles my balls and teases my shaft with her sweet tongue. I free my dick as the images in my mind take shape. Her ass occupying the whole of my screen sends a wild need straight to my groin and I shift in my seat. She is tempting me with that ass. I grunt, pretending her delicate fingers are curled around my hard member. Stroking me to the point of release.

I can't go fast, her bath takes twenty minutes on an average, I need to make wise use of the time. I ease my grip on my cock, focus on my shaft until the familiar wetness seeps out while wondering if she still loves my precum. At this rate, I might as well start a reality show called: Stalking wives with Brandon Stark.

The lube in my last drawer comes in handy, I apply a generous amount to my palm and toss the plastic on the table. Rubbing my hands together, I bath my dick with the lube. Warm and slick like El's core should be with her inside muscles clenching around me while I ride her to orgasmland again and again.

So tight. So wet. Always wet for me. Such a turn on. I focus on her legs which she spreads on getting into the bathtub, giving me a view of her dark labia. That clit I want to suck on until she loses her voice from screaming my name in ecstasy. I let out a strangled hiss when her fingers lower to her wet entrance, she makes casual strokes around her vaginal lips and my eyes clamp shut in agony. It should be my fingers.

I should be in the bathtub with her, rubbing my dick against her ass, giving her a massage right before I fuck her to a much needed sleep after her long days. Her loan business is doing great but it's taking a toll on her. I want to be her stress reliever, to be a husband to his horny wife but she has alienated me. If it weren't for the twins, we wouldn't be talking. That's if a few seconds can be considered a conversation.

Her phone rings, my eyes jerk open. My gaze flies to the screen in an attempt to catch the caller's identity, my fist crashes to the table, causing papers to float briefly in the air. I take a deep, calming breath before sparing another glance at the screen, she makes me lose it. What she needs is to soak herself in that tub rather than standing to pick calls from men. Men that are not her husband or father.

Who calls a married woman this late? Yes, 11 pm is too late, she has kids who are up as early as five with their noises. She needs rest, not that fucker calling by this time. I don't even want him calling her at all.

The smile on her lips when she picks the call has bile rising to my throat and I release my deflated dick with a strangled moan. Way to ruin my night. Now I know for sure it's him. The guy who has been trying to get into her panties. Alright, he does care about her but I don't need him to. I can take care of her.

Yeah, right. I can take care of my wife from a house I refuse to call my own because a part of me hopes for a reconciliation. The same reason I refused to set up this office. But my wife doesn't want me and it gets clearer with each passing day yet I cannot let go. The only reason we are not divorced is because of the twins and my obstinacy. I refuse to let her go. She's mine. I belong to her. We belong to each other.

"Hey," she says into the phone with a small laugh and my mouth twitches. "I miss you."

The best I have gotten from her is a scowl, a scowl that morphs into a sick smile as soon as the twins are around. And she's all smiles with another man. My nails dig into my desk, blood rushes to my ears. She misses him? No, she misses me, not him. I am here pining for her touch, a second chance at our future but she is seeking attention from a stranger. I'll give anything to be on the receiving end of that phone.

Her lips move but her voice is too low for me to pick out her words, I punch the keyboards to increase the volume and her soft voice washes over me. I lean back on my seat, drinking in the sight of her. She twirls a strand of her long hair, eyes glazed as she struts to make herself comfortable on the toilet seat. Her hand moves to her breasts, she kneads a nipple and moans into the phone. Giggling as she does so.

She is cheating on me. I don't care if we have been separated for years, she has my last name. Elna Stark. I am the only one who deserves her sultry smile. I should be the man making her cross and uncross her legs which she rubs together whenever she's horny. The person she seeks out. Me, her husband.

Is she sleeping with him? I can forgive her for sexting him or having phone sex, not that. Jumping out of my seat to get my phone, the twins' faces light up my screen and the tension in my shoulders ebb. I input her number, dialling it before the sensible part of me wins over. She cuts the call and I return to my seat, glaring at her as I redial the number. Who cares if she's still on a call? I am her husband and baby daddy.

"I'll call you back, T," I hear her say into the receiver and I punch the air. That's more like it. She nods to what he says, I stifle the urge to find him wherever he is and beat him to a pulp. "I have to take this call."

Too pleased with myself, I hit her up again and she picks immediately. "Yes, Brandon, what is it?" she says into the phone. From the tensing of her jaw, I know she's keeping her anger in check. And I haven't spoken a word. "I don't have time for this, what do you want? Brandon?" she calls out when I'm mute.

Not baby but Brandon without a trace of warmth. I pull the phone away from my ear to swipe at my eyes. It hurts hearing her say my name with so much indifference. But I guess I should be grateful she picked. She never picks except I am with the kids. Or it's my turn to get them and that's in two days.

"I'm here, El." She mutters a response, I smile at my screen. At least she's not scowling and that means a lot to me. "I want to be sure I'm getting Bren and Bran on Friday," I say and her lips curl into a frown.

"Of course you are," she says with an eye roll and I grimace. I fucked up with my reply. She is sensitive about our kids, our current arrangement is for their benefit. "You always get them on Friday." I wince at the sharpness of her voice, she doesn't like me one bit. "And you will get them this Friday. Is that all?"

Chastised, I nod. "Yeah, thanks."

As much as she hates me, she makes sure I get Bren and Bran early on Friday even if it means sending someone else to drop them off with me. She can't bear for us to be in the same room except when necessary. I get the twins on Friday mornings from the house because I already missed years on dropping them off to school. She picks them from school on Mondays, that way we avoid bumping into each other.

Her frown eases, she sits up. "Brandon, are you..." Crossing her arm on her chest, she rolls her lower lip between her teeth and my cock half hardens. I need this woman in my miserable life. "Are you okay?"

Knowing she will call T as soon as I drop my phone causes me to reply in a cold voice, "Yes." I was harsh, the hurt that crosses her face magnifies my guilt but I go on to say, "I'm fine, thank you for asking."

"Goodnight, Brandon."

Without waiting for my response, she ends the call. I don't stand, neither does she. Our movements are in perfect synchronization as we stare into space with my gaze on her. Her bottom lip quivers and she sniffs, a tear leaks from her eye and she swipes at her cheek, casting a sad look at her phone where my name lingers on the screen with my picture. I made her cry again, I always do that without trying.

A blurry image replaces mine on her screen. A phone call. Her voice lowers when she picks, no amount of ear straining, neck stretching or hitting the keyboard makes her more audible. The last straw is when she pulls her phone away from her ear to take a selfie. All boobs and pointed nipples at the camera.

I freeze.

What if she's on a video call with T? Why is she smiling so much? I zoom in on her but it's futile. Picking up my phone again for the second time in ten minutes, my fingers hover above her name. I moan when her lips part slightly in that deliberate careless way a model would pose. I groan, she was once a model.

She sticks her fingers into her hair, tilts her head back to capture pictures of herself in different poses without covering her nakedness. How dare she? My blood boils to the point I slam my laptop close, I stalk to my bedroom without turning on the lights, hitting my foot many times as I head for the shower.

Jets of cold water rain down on me, I push all thoughts of my traitorous wife and the club away from my mind. I can walk right into the BDSM club to find a submissive who will ride me until Elna is out of my mind. But unlike her, I keep to my promise. I promised I will be faithful and that's exactly what I'm doing.