Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks 1)

We may not have been a “normal” couple—one that falls in love, then gets married and has kids—but we made the best of a bad situation. Neither of us wanted to marry each other, not in a bad way, we just didn’t feel like that for each other; but in the end, neither of us had a choice.

We had to get married and solidify the bond between our families, we had no option but to go along with it, no matter how much we tried to fight against it.

It didn’t help that Nat was her best friend. The woman I walked away from, the woman who has held my heart in the palm of her hand since I first laid eyes on her.

I knew she’d hate me for leaving her like that with no real explanation, no reason as to why I was doing it. I didn’t have a choice. I was protecting her, making sure that she could have the life that she always wanted, that she dreamed about.

But to then marry Natalia? That would have been the final nail in the coffin for her; I knew that, Natalia knew that, but it was still something we had no control over.

Both Natalia and I were aware of the turmoil it would cause, and we tried several times to suggest something different, to come up with a solution that wouldn’t mean tearing us all apart, but neither of our fathers would accept it.

So we did the only thing we could do and got married. For a business deal.

But by the time Clay was born, my father was being kicked out of his company and our family name meant a fraction of what it used to. Natalia’s father was one of the investors that lost millions of dollars, one of the reasons he demanded that she divorce me, effectively rendering the whole point of us being together moot.

But by that time, we had this beautiful, newborn baby boy and we were both determined to make it work. She told her father no, and in turn, her parents disowned her.

We tried our hardest to make a life for us and to be the proper husband and wife unit that we were meant to be. It was hard at first, trying to put roots down while we had so much against us, not only that, but she knew that I still loved her.

Natalia wasn’t stupid, she could see that I’d never love her the way that I did with her. It wasn’t that I didn’t try, because I did, I tried so hard to love her in the same way.

Things became hard when Clay was a toddler, and I pulled away, more than I ever had done, but when we found out we were pregnant with Izzie, life seemed to lift. That’s when something changed between us and I realized that I did love her.

There was another child coming into our family and I made a promise to myself that I would be there for everything, not just for the children, but for Natalia too. It was time that I made good on the promise of our vows and be the husband that she needed.

I loved her. She was my wife, the mother to my children. She became my best friend, my confidant, the person who I turned to the most. I could feel it happening, the love between us blossoming. I knew it would never be as intense as it was before—nothing could compare to that love, the kind that consumes your heart, body, and soul. But this was a different kind of love that I started to feel, one that I was more than happy to live with for the rest of my life.

Part of me hated that she accepted the fact that I would always love her too. I wanted her to scream and shout at me, I wanted her to hate me for loving another woman, but she didn’t. She understood, which almost made the whole thing that much worse.

I lift off Clay’s bed slowly, careful not to wake him as I make sure all of his nightlights are on. That’s another thing, ever since Izzie was born, he’s had this irrational fear of the dark. I don’t know where it’s come from but I’ve been trying everything and anything to make him comfortable. The ten lights dotted around his room are one of the solutions that I came up with. Another one was to paint his room a light blue, hoping that the light and airy feel would make him feel less closed in—less trapped.

I know I should probably ask for help with it, but I fear that I’d be seen as not coping, and the thought of having someone judge me and my parenting, it’s too much to bear.

I take one look back at him and his sleeping form before I close the door halfway, walking toward my wing where my bedroom and office are.

I walk into my office, heading for the small table that sits next to the black, leather sofa before picking up the crystal decanter. I pour the amber liquid into a matching crystal glass before sitting down on the sofa, looking out of the window that sits opposite it and then to the left where my huge oak desk stands proud in the middle of the room.

My gaze roves over the bookcases that line the entire wall behind the desk, full of books that I’ve never even opened. They’re just for show, and besides, I don’t have the time to read. All of my time is either spent in the office or at home with the kids. Once they’re off to bed, I’m never far behind them.

I lean back on the sofa, gulping down the drink and relishing in the burn at the back of my throat. The warmth spreads through my chest and I let my head drop on the back of the sofa, closing my eyes and letting my body relax for the first time since I woke up fifteen hours ago.

Christina Aguilera—You Lost Me

Beyoncé—Irreplaceable

James Bay—Let It Go

The same blue car that Mom’s had for years is sitting in the driveway when I finally arrive at her house after my four-hour drive. I’ve calmed down a little after collecting the rest of my things and I’ve had time to think, but as soon as I see the house that I grew up in with my parents, the floodgates open.

I park haphazardly and get out, heading right into the house through the crimson door, not bothering to get my suitcases or boxes. I need my mom.

I haven’t seen her much in the last two years since my dad passed away. I came back for a few days for his funeral, but she insisted that she was fine afterward and told me I should go home and get on with my life.

His sudden passing hit me harder than I let people see, choosing to put on a brave face for everyone around me. I’m good at closing my emotions off now, but eventually it started eating away at me which made me throw myself into my work.

There was a lot of love and fun in our house growing up, and there wasn’t a day that went by that I wasn’t told I was loved. My parents used to take me on picnics and bike rides through the countryside; we didn’t have a lot of money, but there was no shortage of love and laughter. I can’t recall a memory from my childhood that doesn’t have me laughing in it. They were both my rocks and it broke my heart moving away from them after college, but staying here was the harder option, so I left.

I walk into the living room, a giant ball of emotion building in my throat as I see Mom curled up in the armchair, reading a book. I don’t need to say anything, she sees the distraught look on my face and places her book on the coffee table as she stands, enveloping me in a warm hug.