Page 91 of Deceitful Oath

We have it good here. We don’t have to worry about money or having enough food or paying the rent. Think about it, Lux, don’t be stupid.

But I know that I can’t do it. I’ll never be able to do it. I’ll always hate him, just a little bit, for how easily he takes someone’s life. Violence is never the answer and death isn’t a choice for mere humans like us to make.

“Lux, can we please talk about this?” he pleads, pulling on a shirt and following me down the hallway. I stomp to the living room, shivering at how cold and dark it is.

“I hate this stupid modern apartment, too,” I snap, really spiraling out of control now. I know I’m acting a little crazy, but the hormones, exhaustion, and my near-death experience are conspiring against me.

“We can move,” he says simply. “I have no sentimental ties to this place. We can move tomorrow, if you want. I don’t care. All I want is you and our child.”

“Our child?” I screech, cringing at my own voice.Shit, relax woman.But I can’t, because he’s just brought up a great point. “Our child! You want our child to grow up watching their father live a life of crime? Just because you’re powerful and protected, doesn’t mean you’re not a criminal.”

“Of course I don’t want that,” he says gently, sensing that he must approach me as if I’m a scared, wounded possum on the side of the road. But I can’t be stopped now. Everything that’s happened to me since I met him comes crashing down on me, reminding me of the ridiculous reality I’m living in.

“Then what? We lie to our child like you lied to me for our entire relationship?”

I’m really getting screechy but I can’t stop now. I’ve committed to saying all the things I’ve been shutting inside of myself. All the things I tried to sugarcoat and convince myself weren’t that bad. And for what? So that my child wouldn’t grow up knowing poverty?

At least poverty is more respectable than crime.

“Okay, Lux,” Rafael says, irritation coating his voice. “I need you to calm down so we can discuss this rationally.”

“Rationally,” I spit out.Oh no, the hormones don’t like that word.“Rationally? I’m sorry, but were you thinking rationally when you stalked me, got me fired, stole my car, planned to murder me, convinced me to marry you…”

“Okay, I get it,” he interrupts me. “I did a whole lot of stupid shit. But I’ve also apologized, profusely, and promised to spend my life making it up to you.”

“Don’t bother,” I spit, bitterness clawing at my throat, coating my heart. “I want this moronic sham of a marriage dissolved. I’m filing for divorce.”

“Have it your way,” he growls, spinning on his heel and marching back to the bedroom. “But don’t you think for a second you’re keeping my kid away from me.”

***

I stare down the empty hallway as the elevator doors slide closed.I can’t believe he just…left.

Of all the reactions I could have expected, this wasn’t one of them.

I thought he might be upset or angry, but just leaving me after everything that’s happened is even more harsh. The apartment suddenly feels too large and empty.

Most of the lights are off, and my imagination runs wild, conjuring up monsters and foes in every darkened corner.

I hastily make my way into the kitchen where soft lights from the living room lamps make it feel cozier and safer.

Popping open the fridge, I stare at the almost-bare shelves and debate cobbling together some sort of dinner. Exhaustion washes over me so I slam it shut, settling on a bar stool at the island instead.

The air conditioning kicks in, making me jump. I briefly wonder if this level of anxiety affects the baby in some way, so I force myself to do some meditative breathing. Once I feel more settled, I make myself a chamomile tea and grab some snacks.I refuse to spend the night worrying about our fight.

When Rafael gets back home, we’ll talk about this like grown adults and make the right decision together. Until then, I’ll distract myself with mindless reality shows and way too many salty chips. I plop onto the gigantic sofa and snuggle into the pillows, draping a throw over myself.

This is fine. See? You’re safe and cozy. Nothing to worry about.

Just as I’m about to turn on the TV, the lights go out. I bolt upright, sending the bowl of chips in my lap flying into the air. Traumatic memories of walking into my old apartment at gunpoint wash over me.

Oh, hell no, not again. I’m so sick of this. Every time the power goes out, bad shit happens.

I sprint into the kitchen, smashing into a lamp on the way and toppling it over. The moonlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows gives me enough light to move around, but panic makes me clumsy.

I skid to a stop in front of the cabinets, pulling out the biggest knife I can find.

Slowly, knife in hand, I creep into the hallway. The small screen above the elevator flashesPH, showing that it’s stopped on our floor.Weird. It should be in the parking garage, unless Rafael came back and got stuck because of the power outage.

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