Presley Estates, Wesbury
The silverware clinks against the china plates, the only sound piercing the thickness of the room. The chandelier above casts a gentle light on the dining table, setting the perfect ambiance for a romantic dinner. But tonight, romance is absent, replaced with a tightrope of emotions neither of us dares to walk.
I take a deep breath, summoning the strength to break the stillness. ‘I’m thinking of heading to Rich Oaks after Dad’s anniversary,’ I say, watching Duke’s reaction closely.
His eyes meet mine, searching, probing. ‘Why the sudden change? I thought we were set for our vacation.’
I swallow, tasting the tang of half-truths on my tongue. ‘Just felt like it,’ I reply, keeping my voice even, knowing any deviation will give away more than I wish to.
Duke sets his fork down, concern etching lines on his usually smooth forehead. ‘Is everything okay, Ais? You seem… off.’
I avoid his gaze, focusing on my plate. ‘I’m fine,’ I answer, a little too quickly, a little too defensively.
He sighs, and I can almost hear the unspoken words hanging between us. The comfort of our shared history is missing tonight, replaced with walls I’m not sure either of us knows how to tear down.
As the meal continues in near silence, the vastness of the dining room grows, and the gulf between us feels more like a chasm. The intricate floral pattern on the china seems to mock our fading relationship, vibrant and alive against the backdrop of our current predicament.
‘No, you are not,’ he insists, his tone gentle but firm. ‘Just tell me something. Let’s talk about this. If there is a problem, it should be us against the problem, not the other way around.’
‘I have nothing to tell you,’ I say, closing my eyes briefly, trying to shut out the world.
Duke stands up from his chair, his frustration palpable. ‘You know, this is just too thick for me.’
‘Alright.”
‘Can we go upstairs?’ he implores, his eyes filled with a desperate plea.
I furrow my brow, suspicious of his intentions. ‘To do what?’
‘Let’s go and talk. Let’s make love, like we always do when things get tough,’ he suggests, a hint of hope playing on his lips.
I shake my head, feeling a knot twist and tighten in my stomach. ‘I don’t want to make love.’
‘Isn’t that what we do when things are not alright between us? We have always vented our frustrations through sex,’ he says, desperation creeping into his voice.
‘Well, I don’t want to have sex,’ I say firmly, my voice rising ever so slightly.
He gazes at me across the dining table, his blue eyes searching mine for answers. I stares back, feeling the weight of the silence between us. Our eyes held each other for a long moment. The look of lust and adoration I once had for him was no more, replaced by a churning sea of confusion and pain.
‘Do you have something you want to ask me?’ Duke inquires, breaking the silence.
I shake my head again, feeling the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. ‘Nothing, Duke. Nothing.’
