Quietly, my knuckles rapped against the wood before I reached down and turned the knob. Pushing the door open, I began to walk inside his office. My husband sat behind his large wooden desk, a soft glow against his face from the dimly lit lamp close by. His office filled with bookcases and family photographs. A couch pushed against one side of the wall and a TV in the corner for the nights he spent in here.
This was his usual spot when home, working and away from everyone.
He looked so handsome with those blue eyes I wanted to lose myself in and dark brown hair. For a moment, it was easy to forget that we were in a war against each other most days.
"The kids are asleep. I'm going to bed now," I said, interrupting him with a heavy sigh as I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the white wall.
Brody didn't bother looking up. "Good night."
I lingered, wishing things were differently. How I wanted to go over there, walk across the timber flooring and pull his swivel chair around; to sit on his lap with my arms draped over his shoulders and kiss or just talk about our day; and, to be close to him once again.
Paperwork scattered all around, his eyes were narrowed as he concentrated hard on whatever was on the screen. His fingers typing furiously on the Mac keyboard stopped. His head stayed bowed as his dark eyes glanced upwards. "Yes?" His voice low yet still held authority over me.
I felt uncomfortable in here. Awkwardness filled the room as I stood by the door. "Did you need anything before I go?" I asked, swallowing the dry lump in my throat as he just stared.
"No." Short and curt came his reply, and just like that, he was back typing away.
We rarely spoke about anything else other than the children or what our week entailed. As I went to close the door, I heard a disgruntled sigh. There was no need to say anything else. I left the room, making my way down the hallway to the children.
Lila was fast asleep, clutching her doll against her cheek as I pulled the light pink bed cover up over her shoulders to keep her warm during the winter's night. Her dark brown hair curled and splayed out against her pillowcase as she mumbled something incoherent and rolled from her side to her back. I couldn't help but just smile, wanting to sit in here forever and watch her.
At seven, she was determined but stubborn at the best of times with a huge imagination. Her daddy was wrapped around her fingers, his little princess. Noah, who was a year older, was the opposite. He was very laid back and easy to keep happy. He'd gotten that from his father. The children were both often mistaken as twins with their age so close. Noah wasn't much of a talker, either reading a book or outside riding up and down the driveway on his bike. Lila loved to talk about anything and everything.
I kissed her good night and then made my way across the hallway to Noah's room. The second book of Harry Potter on his face as he had fallen asleep reading again, I laughed softly to myself, placing the bookmark on the open page and leaving it on his bedside table.
I couldn't deny it. Brody and I made beautiful children. Biased or not, they were my life.
Kissing his forehead as my fingers combed through his dark, almost black hair, I stood up straighter, leaving his bedroom and making my way back to ours. I paused momentarily and stared at his office door once more. I almost went in again. He was in there, shutting me out and blocking me away. Deciding against it, I left.
Slipping into the shower, I began to lather body wash into my olive skin and clean myself. I loathed the way my body looked after having children. Twenty-seven and I loathed my body. I could lie and say that I kept my figure or lost the weight, but I hadn't. I had leftovers from Lila, probably some from Noah too. It was too easy to eat and enjoy the sugary sweet cravings from being pregnant, convincing myself that I'd work hard to wear it off once they were born. It just never happened.
My hair hadn't been cut in years, just not bothering with it. It only went up in a ponytail, the way boring mum does. Even makeup went untouched, just a quick dab of blush and gloss. I really couldn't be bothered with it. The clothes that I used to wear, all those shorts and tight-fitting jeans were hiding in the back of my closet, hidden away for the day that I was finally able to wear them again without the embarrassing belly fat bulging over the top.
Brody never once complained or said anything, but my subconscious told me that it bothered him. He'd only gotten better looking with age, successful at work and grown into a strong man. It made sense for him to have a beautiful woman on his arm. However, I was never on his arm. I hadn't even been asked to join him at one of his work dinners since Noah was born. He would call up late, inform me last minute that he wouldn't be making it home until late.
I was convinced he was fucking his receptionist, the woman who took his business calls. He denied it, of course. What man wouldn't want to be sucked off by a gorgeous blonde when his wife wasn't doing it to him?
The last time we were consistent with being intimate was when we were trying to fall pregnant with our youngest, Lila. I'd become increasingly aroused during my pregnancy with her, craving his touch, his kisses... to feel his hands on my skin. He never seemed to mind, always up for a quick romp between the sheets before work, before dinner or when our eldest Noah was napping.
When Lila entered the world, sex and sleep were a distant memory of the past.
You could say our marriage began taking its toll when Noah entered our world. Brody had only just made it to the hospital. Another five minutes and he would have missed the first of his son, Noah. It was the same with Lila, another business meeting that he couldn't dash away from.
Sex was boring. Neither of us even really tried, and I had faked so many orgasms that I lost count.
As I stepped out of the shower, I quickly dried off in fear that Brody would already be in the room. I hated the thought of him seeing my body. Slipping into my flannel pyjamas, I sat down on the bed with my legs tucked up and put a braid in my half-dried hair. The bed felt cold and lonely as I slipped under the covers after brushing my teeth. It was too big, too empty.
We didn't have a TV in our room. When we first moved in, Brody said we didn't need one. The bedroom was for two things, sleeping and sexy time. Now, I wished there was a TV in here.
My eyes stared at the door, waiting, hoping he would come in and wanting to hold me. He didn't, and I fell asleep.
I could vaguely hear him undressing in our walk-in closet. Barely awake, I rolled over, picked my phone up and noticed the time, almost 2 AM, hours after I had said good night to him.
Putting the phone back down, I snuggled further beneath the covers as he joined me in the bedroom. "You awake?" his voice soft, half-heard.
"No," I replied.
I kept my eyes closed as I rolled to my back. This was his usual pickup line when he wanted some. They opened just as he walked around to his side of the bed, naked. Sitting down, I watched as he opened his side of the bedside table drawer and take out a condom. Tearing it open, he tossed the foil wrapped and began rolling down the condom down his thick length. I wasn't offended. Neither of us wanted any more children.
Raising my hips, I lowered my bottoms but still kept one leg in, easy to put back on afterwards.
There was no kissing, barely any moans, and he was quiet after from some shallow breathing. He'd always been silent, and it made me feel like shit. We weren't experienced with other people, only being with each other. I wasn't counting the bitch at his work until my proof was solid.