"What do you want?" he asked, his voice echoing above the soft whir of the mixer.
The kitchen had become her sanctuary, a mini work station where she whisked and baked, filling the apartment with the sweet, comforting scent of vanilla and freshly baked pastries.
The rhythmic hum of the mixer blended with the occasional clink of utensils, creating a soothing background symphony.
Rachel lifted her eyes from the batter swirling in the mixer, the soft glow of the kitchen lights catching the flecks of flour dusting her cheeks. Her gaze was steady but devoid of emotion, offering no response.
He couldn't fathom how she could switch off her emotions so easily. It had only been a week, but it felt like a lifetime of silent torture.
"What do you want?" he repeated,as he moved closer, the subtle scent of her perfume mingling with the aroma of baking.
Since their shared moment weeks ago, he had clung to it, cherishing it as something special. He tried to tread cautiously, not wanting to shatter the delicate remnants of their fragile relationship.
"I heard you," she replied, anger and hurt lacing her voice.
She turned to face him, a decision she immediately regretted. Images from their last encounter flashed in her mind: the feel of his hands on her thigh, the heat of his touch. Her nipples hardened underneath her shirt, but somewhere deep down, she felt hurt.
He knew he could toy with her, and he did. As much as she enjoyed the moment yet painfully aware that it was a clear reminder: she shouldn't play with fire unless ready to get burned.
The situation upset her,she was upset at him, at herself, but she choose to cling to that anger to avoid the nostalgic feeling of his tongue in her mouth.
"What I want is to be no where near you. I want to be happy. I want to go home. I want this conversation to be over." Her chest pounding,her hands gesturing her frustration in the air, finally taking a much need breathe of air she finished up more softly,"I want a divorce."
A sad look crossed his face,his expression pale but for a moment before being replaced by a cold hard look.
She wasn't sure what he expected to hear, but she indulged him, hoping he would finally understand.
"You don't want that," he said, his voice certain, as if he knew her better than she knew herself.
Shaking her head, she turned back to her batter and turned the mixer on once more.
"You wouldn't be here if that's what you wanted," Alex informed her.
"I'm here because you made it necessary for me to be here.... I'm here because of the money, Alex." She replied hands on her waist as she faced him squarely.
It hurt her to do that, but he could think whatever he wanted of her; she didn't care. She just needed to stick it out for the rest of the month and then be gone.
"Really?" His voice trembled slightly, the pain of her rejection evident.
Doubt flickered in his eyes as he looked at her, his hands tentatively reaching for hers.
She pulled away, the coldness of her resolve mirroring the chill of the room.
"If it's money you want, I can give it to you... any amount. Just name it, if only you would behave." His desperation hung heavy in the air.
"Do not insult me," she warned, feeling anger rise within her, her cheeks flushing.
"You just said....."he watched the fire catch her eyes as she cut him off.
"I know what I said," she interrupted, her voice steady but low as she continued
"I do not want anything from you....neither you nor your money. Just what I asked for and what I am entitled to as per our agreement." The metallic taste of bitterness lingered on her tongue.
"And why is that?" His brows arched, curiosity and frustration mingling in his eyes.
Why was she so bent on that particular amount?
She could ask for anything: a house, an allowance. Hell, she could divorce him for all he was worth.
She stiffened at his question, her eyes darting away from his intense gaze. The faint hum of the refrigerator filled the silence between them.
"Unless you plan on granting me the divorce, we are going to peacefully coexist until then," she replied deliberately avoiding his question,her tone final.
"Why are you so adamant about denying what we share?" His voice softened, almost a whisper.
He couldn't let it go his intuition pricked at the idea that she was hiding something,he knew her ,knew her body and no matter what she said or did something was holding her back, something he couldn't quite figure out.
"There's no denying anything, Alex....." She sighed, nothing she could say mattered except the truth ".....when you're near me, my pulse races, and I can hardly breathe, your touch is electrifying, sparking every nerve in my body. But this is the reality, Alex—what we share is just a fleeting surge of dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, and whatever else accompanies intimacy. It's just sex, nothing more."
Her eyes were defiant, clearly passing her message.The sharp scent of citrus from the lemon on the counter cut through the tension.
They had been slowly easing into each other the past month with her teasing, and now she has completely shut him out, moving into the guest room, building an invincible wall around herself, leaving him in a state of utter confusion. It killed him to have her so near yet so far away, the ghost of her warmth lingering in the spaces they once shared.
Watching as his expression changed at her confession.His posture stiffened, his eyes turning cold as his boardroom persona took over.
Nobody said the truth had to be pretty she thought to herself.
Making his silently make his way to the refrigerator,the soft thud of his shoes on the tiled floor the only sound. He picked out a bottle of water and exited without a word.
The whirring of the mixer followed in the wake of his retreating back, blending with the soft sound of her own ragged breathing.
*****
The shrill ringing of the phone jolted her awake, its sharp sound slicing through the serene morning silence like a knife.
Rachel fumbled to answer it, the cold metal sending a shiver through her sleepy fingers, its smooth surface contrasting sharply with her warm, groggy skin.
"Hello?" she croaked, her voice rough with sleep, like sandpaper against her throat.
"It's me, Stacey." Her friend's voice was a comforting balm, though tinged with urgency. Stacey's voice resonated warmly in her ears, like a familiar melody easing her awake.
They talked for a few minutes, Stacey's voice filling the room with warmth and concern, her words wrapping around her like a cozy blanket.
As the call ended, she felt a strange calmness wash over her, as if Stacey's words had temporarily lifted the heavy fog of her thoughts. She could almost feel the warmth of her friend's presence lingering in the room, like the fading heat of a fire.
Laying on her back,staring at the ceiling, she let out a long sigh.
Despite going to bed early, she had spent most of the night tossing and turning, her mind replaying the events of the previous day.
A knock echoed through the room, breaking the silence. It came again, more insistent this time, reverberating through the still air like a drumbeat. She remained still, hoping he would go away. She silently prayed he wouldn't open the door.
Just like that, the peace and silence returned, and she closed her eyes, savoring the temporary reprieve.
Now, lying in bed for hours, she felt a weariness that seeped into her bones, making her limbs feel like lead.
With a sigh, she dragged herself out of bed, her movements slow and heavy, like wading through water. The wooden floor was cool against her bare feet, the chill waking her senses with a jolt.
Her stomach growled, a stark reminder of her hunger, the sound echoing in the quiet room. She walked lazily to the door, dreading the encounter, each step feeling like a journey.
Opening it, she was met with a surprise. In front of her was a tray of food, now cold, and a paper gift bag with a sticky note that read four words: "Be ready by 8."
She smirked cynically. Gifts? Did he truly believe he could win her over with material offerings? Despite her unease, the unexpected gesture managed to draw a reluctant smile, a small bright spot after the previous day's disaster.
She laced the bags through her arm and nudged the door shut with her foot, the soft thud echoing in the room.
The smell of cold bacon and eggs wafted up to her nose, its once tempting aroma now dull and unappetizing.
Placing the tray and the bag on the textured, dark ottoman at the foot of the bed, she sat down and popped a piece of cold bacon into her mouth.
The salty crunch was oddly comforting, grounding her as she rummaged through the bag, eager to uncover its contents.
The room was bathed in soft, afternoon light filtering through the curtains, casting gentle shadows on the walls. She took a moment to breathe in the quiet, feeling the stillness settle around her, as she stared at the bags, the anticipation building.
Rachel was unsure of his intentions with this presents. After yesterday's incident, she expected him to harbor the same feelings but now he left her wondering if she was wrong and he really was trying to make amends.
Opening the bag, she pulled out a beautiful black gown.
It was definitely a date, she confirmed, as she looked at the gown in her hands,the sleek fabric, smooth and cool under her fingertips, shimmered softly in the light. It was as soft as the emotions running through her, a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty.
She pulled out a jewelry box from the smaller bag to reveal a breathtaking necklace. The delicate chain sparkled, catching the light and casting tiny rainbows on the wall.
Amid her excitement, she reminded herself to enjoy as much as she could lest she be sucked into the bubble of a dream.
She didn't mind the coldness of the food as she ate,staring in awe at the elegance laying in front of her and the anticipation of the evening to come rising leaving a heaviness in the pit of her stomach.
At exactly 8 pm, Rachel made her way down the stairs into the living room, exuding timeless elegance in the strapless black gown. The dress hugged her figure perfectly, the sleek fabric creating a striking silhouette that flowed down to the floor.
A daring thigh-high slit revealed just a hint of leg with each step. She accessorized with a simple yet stunning pearl choker, its classic beauty contrasting perfectly with the boldness of her dress. The soft rustle of fabric accompanied her graceful movements, the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air.
She looked perfect. His heart raced a bit as he watched her make her way gracefully down the stairs towards him. The sound of her heels clicking on the wooden steps was like a rhythm matching his heartbeat.
"You look beautiful," he said, meeting her halfway. His voice was smooth, laced with genuine admiration, the warmth in his eyes a beautiful reminder that her efforts to look good was paying off.
Her heart raced at his remark, but she masked her excitement with a soft smile.
She felt the gentle brush of his skin, warm and tender as his fingers gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, lingering just a moment too long. sending a shiver down her spine.
"May I have your hand?" he asked, his voice tender, sending a warm shiver to course through her.
She felt like a high schooler on her way to prom as she placed her hand in his. His grip was firm yet gentle.
From his pocket, he pulled out a small jewelry box, revealing a delicate wedding ring—her ring.
Slowly, he slid it onto her finger, the cool metal sending shivers up her spine.
Crafted from lustrous platinum, its smooth, polished surface exuded a timeless charm. The band was slim and delicate, providing a perfect balance between simplicity and sophistication. Set into the band were a few tiny, brilliant-cut diamonds that added just the right amount of sparkle.
The ring was a reminder that she was collateral damage, a mistake that shouldn't be. The feeling it evoked as he put it on was very different from the way she felt when he first slipped it on at their wedding ceremony.
She felt uneasy about having the ring on, but she didn't want to ruin the moment, so she held her protest and simply went with it.
"We're late," he said, ruining the delicate moment as he led her towards the door.
She took a deep breath, the crisp air filling her lungs, and allowed herself a moment of hope.