Chapter 2
L ayla’s eyes kept shifting up.
This had been the most awkwardly silent dinner she’d had with her husband, Carlos, in a while.
Usually they would at least make small talk, but this evening, he hadn’t even tried.
In fact, his face had been buried in his phone the whole time he ate…
making it clear that he didn’t want to be bothered.
That didn’t stop Layla from trying to think of things to talk to him about though.
Dinner, from the first week of their marriage, had been their time to unwind and connect on a daily basis.
Their ambition had their schedules packed.
To ensure their career goals and school didn’t cause them to neglect one another, they promised to eat dinner together and get in bed at the same time no matter what.
It was funny how things changed with time.
Now fifteen years later, they weren’t even sleeping in the same bed.
“Um…” Layla wiped the corners of her mouth.
Carlos released an irritated breath as he picked his glass of red wine up and took a large gulp.
As if just the mere thought of what she was about to say had already annoyed him.
Pressing on, Layla sat up slightly in her seat.
“Dior shared some exciting news today.” She paused, wanting to give him time to show interest in his thirteen-year-old daughter.
When a few seconds passed and he remained silent as he stared at her, Layla shook her head as her nostrils flared.
“She wants to make a friend when she starts high school in the fall. When I was asking her what she wanted to do for her birthday since it was the first week after her ninth-grade year starts, she said she wanted to have a friend by then so they could do something together.” Layla’s smile widened, heart filling with pride at the recollection.
“Isn’t that great?”
Carlos shoved a fork of mashed potatoes into his mouth, nodding.
“Yeah.”
“I was thinking we could maybe try and find some programs for her over the summer to help her open up and get more comfortable socializing before she starts school. I’m excited that she’s coming out of her shell a little, but I don’t want her to be overwhelmed. High school will already be a huge adjustment for her.”
Layla paused, waiting for Carlos to show some kind of interest in what was going on with their growing child.
She was glad Dior had long since started eating dinner alone in her room at the small dining room table setup Layla had created for her.
If there was one thing Dior could do, it was pick up on the static between her parents.
She may not have vocally expressed anything about it, but it would quickly cause her to have a meltdown or shutdown altogether.
It was true—neither Carlos nor Layla wanted children.
Married at eighteen, right after high school, the last thing they wanted was a child to force them to slow down.
Dreams of a wealthy lifestyle, partying into the morning, and traveling to see all parts of the world had been both of their priorities.
However, when Layla found out she was pregnant at the start of her Sophomore year of college, her plans changed almost instantly.
The moment she heard Dior’s heart beating, there was nothing more that she wanted than to be her mother.
She ended up dropping out of school to be a stay at home mom, and Carlos made sure they didn’t want for anything financially.
There was always the matter of him neglecting to give them himself, though.
He continued on with the plan he had for his life…
climbing up the corporate ladder, having and attending dinner parties every other night, and traveling out of the country every couple of months.
Layla thought he would be more hands on when they found out Dior had Asperger’s Syndrome, but if anything, that made him stay away more.
It was almost as if he resented Layla for even having her.
Like she’d gotten pregnant on her own without his help.
Just thinking about it had Layla’s heart pounding as she released a hard breath.
“Are you even listening to me, Carlos?”
“Yeah,” he answered quickly, eyes still on his phone.
“Then say something.”
“What do you want me to say, Layla?”
She scoffed and sat back in her seat, staring at him as his eyes remained glued to his phone.
“I want you to show a little excitement. Our daughter finally has a desire to have a friend. Do you not understand how big this is?”
Carlos’s head tilted and he finally set his phone down on the table.
Their eyes remained locked for a few seconds before he said, “This is great news, Layla. I’m really happy Dior wants to make a new friend,” in a flat tone that made her chuckle and shake her head.
“The hell was I thinking, thinking you would be as excited about this as me? Why would you think, your daughter, who has trouble socializing, wanting to make a friend would be a big deal?”
She jumped up from her seat so quickly and forcefully it rocked and almost fell.
Carrying her half full plate to the kitchen, Layla willed her tears not to fall.
More than sad or even angry, Layla was tired.
Tired of feeling like she was the only one invested in this marriage or raising their child for that matter.
For the past three years, Carlos had been like a slot holder more than anything else.
Though Layla often asked God in the past why He’d given their daughter a mild form of Autism, she had learned over the years that Dior was how she was for a very specific reason—to remind Layla of what was most important in life while teaching her grace, patience, and how to love on a daily basis.
In return, Dior gave Layla all the love she could.
Though she may have had trouble interacting with everyone else, Layla was Dior’s safe place to comfortably express herself.
And having that honor was the greatest honor that had ever been bestowed upon Layla.
If anything, her questioning God about Dior turned into questions about Carlos.
He didn’t deserve them.
But he was Dior’s father, and Layla owed it to her to try and make their family work no matter what.
After emptying her plate in the trash, Layla washed it and put it in the dishwasher.
When she returned to the dining room, it didn’t surprise her that Carlos was gone.
She cleared the table and wiped everything down in the kitchen, then headed to their bedroom.
The sight of Carlos’s luggage at the foot of the bed caused her heart to squeeze.
Her brows wrinkled, throat tightened.
Like it didn’t want to allow her to ask, “What are you doing?”
Not bothering to look up at her, Carlos pulled two large handfuls of clothes out of his drawer.
“Leaving.”
“And going where?”
“To Jasmine’s.”
Layla shuffled back, weakened by his words.
Her mouth opened but quickly snapped shut.
Crossing her arms over her chest, like that would keep his words from striking her heart, she shook her head.
“I thought we agreed you would never stay the night with them?”
Their marriage was open on Carlos’s end, mainly because it was the only thing keeping them from divorcing.
Technically separated, they were still living together and keeping up their facade for Dior’s sake.
It had been over a year since Layla had sex with her husband or any other man for that matter, but that for damn sure hadn’t stopped him from getting his dick wet.
In the beginning, it was hard for Layla to keep up with how many women he was seeing.
About three months ago, he’d dropped them all for one.
For Jasmine.
Layla didn’t want to accept it, but it was clear that she meant more.
That she was different.
Still, Layla didn’t feel any anxiousness because they’d agreed to remain married until Dior, at least, finished school.
She didn’t handle change well, and Layla had become accustomed to living her life in whatever way made Dior’s easier—even if that meant accepting her husband’s cheating.
“I can’t do this shit no more, Lay.”
A soft chuckle fell from her lips as she squeezed the bridge of her nose.
Layla waited until she was standing directly in front of him to ask, “You can’t do what?” Her arm stretched across his luggage, forcing him to look at her.
“I’m the one that maintains this household and raises your daughter. All I ask you to do is pay the bills and be present. Is that what you’re saying you can’t do anymore, Carlos?”
He shrugged, avoiding her eyes.
Layla wanted to believe it was because he knew what he was doing was wrong and he couldn’t bear to face her.
More than anything, it was a sign of just how detached he was.
“I guess so, yeah. If that’s how you want to take it. I’m tired of being here when I want to be with Jasmine.”
Layla rubbed the heel of her palm against her chest.
She swallowed hard as her head shook slow in disbelief.
This had always been a possibility, but nothing could have prepared Layla for this moment.
It didn’t matter how much she told herself she was okay with the way he was moving, the possibility of him leaving permanently had her lungs constricting and making it nearly impossible to breathe.
Feeling dizzy, she wrapped her hand around her throat as it felt like it would close.
Pulling in deep, shaky breaths, Layla fought to not crumble right where she stood.
“We agreed that I’d let you be with other women as long as you came home, Carlos,” she reminded, voice shaking.
“That was the whole point of us separating and not divorcing.”
“Well I want the divorce now,” he replied quickly, finally giving her his full attention.
“Jasmine is tired of me being tied to you still. She deserves better than feeling like she’s my mistress. I can’t even take her out in public, in Memphis, because I don’t want someone we know to see us and think I’m cheating on you.”
“You are.”
“No, I’m not. Legally, I’m not. Now if you’ve held on to hopes of our marriage getting better, that’s on you, but it’s not and you need to accept that. Now I said I would stay here until Dior was out of school, but if you want that to be the case, I need space. I’ll be here when she gets out of school, but I’m spending my nights with Jasmine. Dior won’t even know I’m not here.”
Mouth pinched, Layla’s shoulders slumped.
She looked past Carlos instead of directly at him as she ran her tongue over her teeth, unable to stand the sight of him after what he’d just said.
“So it’s not her that you’re trying to get away from,” Layla clarified.
“It’s me.”
His stance softened and so did his eyes.
Carlos tried to take her hands into his, but Layla took a step back.
“I’m not trying to hurt you, Layla. Can we please not talk about this?”
Licking her lips as her chin trembled, Layla shook her head weakly.
“No,” she rejected, pushing her shoulders back and tilting her head.
“I need to hear you say it all.” Because that would be the only way she would be able to release him from her heart.
If divorce was inevitable, his truth would make it easier for her to let him go.
Hell, up until now, she’d been sure she’d never willingly leave him.
No matter how much their marriage strained, Layla was invested.
“Layla…”
“Say it,” she gritted softly.
“Fine.” Carlos crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her.
“I love you, but I’m not in love with you anymore. We’ve grown apart and become two different people that don’t fit anymore. When we first got married, we were perfect for each other. I thought we’d spend our lives making money and living it up. Then you got pregnant, and shit changed. You got boring and all you cared about was Dior. Our dates and fun stopped, and I work too hard to not be with a partner that I can actually enjoy life with. You know I never wanted a child or that responsibility, but I tried to stay because I loved you. Even with that, you stopped meeting me halfway.
“We couldn’t even make the most of holidays and anniversaries because you didn’t want anyone keeping Dior for more than an hour, if that.
I don’t feel like you’re my wife anymore; I feel like you’re my child’s keeper—a child I didn’t even want.
I’ve been lonely for years, and fucking different women only satisfied so much.
In Jasmine, I found the companionship I used to have in you.
So if she wants me to make her a bigger priority in my life, I’m going to do that, because she does that for me.
”
Running her tongue across her teeth, Layla stared into his eyes until tears fell from hers.
Hanging her head, she wiped them away quickly.
Surrendering to the inevitable, Layla nodded and took a step back.
“Okay,” she agreed quietly.
As she turned to leave, the sound of Carlos calling her name stopped her.
“I’m willing to keep the separation in place if you agree to me being with Jasmine fully. As I promised, I’ll still be present for Dior, but Jasmine will be who I live with. If you’re okay with that, we can keep our agreement.”
Her head shook softly.
“I don’t want you to feel like you’re bound to me when you don’t want to be.”
Gripping her chest, she prayed that would keep her heart from exploding.
Yeah, she knew things were bad, but she didn’t realize that was how Carlos felt.
All this time, she’d only been focused on how absent he had been.
It wasn’t until now that she realized the part she played in this.
How she’d practically stopped being a wife to be the best mother she could possibly be.
Carlos had never expressed disdain for their lack of quality time, so she thought he didn’t care.
Now, all she could do was wonder if her actions were the ones that led them to this moment instead of his.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked turning to face him.
“If you felt like I was neglecting you, why didn’t you say something? You let all this time pass just so you could fall out of love with me and feel better about being with someone else?”
“That wasn’t my intention, Layla. I didn’t feel like I had the right to demand your time. You were 100 percent hands on with Dior and I felt like I wasn’t really equipped to be there for her while she was a baby or a toddler for that matter. When she was able to communicate what she wanted and needed, I told myself then I’d be able to be a good father.”
“But she couldn’t,” Layla added before choking on tears.
Carlos quickly walked over and tried to take her into his arms, but she pushed him away.
She had no need for his comfort while he tore her heart apart.
“Yes. When we found out that she… you know… and couldn’t communicate and socialize properly… I shut down. I felt like, damn. I already didn’t want this because I wasn’t sure I’d be a good father, now this. I know I should have left then, but I didn’t want to feel like a failure. She started doing well with you and I felt like neither of you needed me anymore, so that’s when I started cheating. But I just can’t do this anymore, Layla. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. No. I get it.” She smiled softly, wiping the last of her tears.
“It’s totally understandable. Do what’s best for you. I got us.”
Opening the door quickly and forcefully, Layla scurried down the hall, slamming the door behind her in the guest bathroom.
She cut the fan on, not wanting Dior to hear her cries.
On weak and trembling legs, she slid down the door and sobbed.
Her body shook savagely as she struggled to breathe.
Already overwhelmed, the last thing her heart could handle was her husband’s rejection.
But it had no choice.
If Carlos wanted to leave, she’d take this loss with grace—especially now that she was forced to accept the part she played in their relationship’s demise.