Klas's pov:
So, Mickey, my husband, has pretty much stayed the same since we first met - you know, still has that mix of meanness, rudeness, and annoyance. You might remember from way back that he's got this thing of scratching his brow when he's ne...
On Willow's inaugural day at kindergarten, I opted for a delightful start by having us accompany her—a decision made in pursuit of a more enjoyable first day. As was customary, I rose early, indulging in a refreshing shower and a breakfast featuring toasts adorned with mixed berries. For Willow, a breakfast ensemble of granola bars and a slice of avocado toast awaited.
Awakening Mickey with a tender kiss, we shared the morning meal together. Mid-bite, my attention drifted to Mickey's hair, remarking on its length. He casually acknowledged, "You like it," prompting a smile in response. Just then, Willow's spirited voice echoed from her room, calling out to her doting Dada. Chuckling at his swift departure, I shook my head at his endearing silliness.
Mickey's protective nature over Willow manifested in various ways, including the occasional skirmish with other children to safeguard our cherished daughter. Returning with a still-sleepy Willow in his arms, my husband's loving gesture prompted a warm smile from me. "Come on, sleepyhead, it's time for school," I encouraged, and Mickey gently seated Willow, guiding her through her morning meal.
I meticulously prepared Willow's lunch, crafting a nutritious ensemble comprising a vegetable omelette, an English muffin pizza, and a medley of chopped fruits. Following this, I attended to Willow's needs, bathing her and dressing her in a snug pink sweater, pants, boots, and a purple jacket. Conscious of the chilly weather, I adorned her with a winter hat and gloves to shield her from the cold. As she settled in the living room, engrossed in a Barbie show, I shifted my focus to assisting my childlike husband.
In those moments of undivided attention, I found joy in attending to Mickey's needs—brushing his teeth, combing his hair, and aiding in dressing him. These instances served as cherished reminders of the time we could carve out for each other, even amidst the responsibilities of parenting our beloved Willow.
With our morning rituals complete, Mickey took the wheel as he drove us to Willow's kindergarten. En route, Willow and I serenaded the journey with a rendition of "The Wheels on the Bus," my hand interlocked with Mickey's. Stepping into our roles, I carried Willow, while Mickey took charge of holding her bags.
I knelt down, facing Willow, gently caressing her cheeks. "Be a good girl, okay? Daddy will pick you up later," I kissed her nose, eliciting giggles. Willow hugged both me and Mickey before darting off to her classroom, leaving me with a bittersweet sense of pride as I watched my little girl navigate her growing independence.
A familiar voice disrupted my thoughts. "Hello there, Ruslanov," it greeted. Turning, I was met with the unexpected sight of my long-lost ex-boyfriend, Ethan, who had now assumed the role of my daughter's teacher. The exchange was brief, his smile seemingly casual, but I detected a hint of recognition in his eyes. Stepping back, I felt Mickey's reassuring presence beside me.
"Are you okay, baby?" he asked, concern etching his features. I nodded, assuring him that Willow would have a great day. Left alone with Mickey and Ethan, I made a hasty retreat to the car, grappling with the unexpected reunion.
Once inside the car, Mickey, his gaze fixed on me, sought an explanation. "What was that?" he inquired. I shook my head, urging him to drive home. "Tell me about Ethan, what's going on?" he pressed sternly. "No, just... please. I'm already late," I responded, avoiding eye contact.
Attempting to defuse the situation, I cut him off again, emphasizing my tardiness. Mickey, visibly frustrated, punched the steering wheel, startling me. "fuck it," he muttered before exiting the car and heading inside the house. The familiar tension lingered, a reminder of the occasional conflicts that could arise in any marriage.
I reflected on our past, recalling Mickey's former struggles with anger, but in the five years since Willow's birth, he had managed to keep his darker impulses at bay.
Mickey's pov:
I chose to pay a visit to my brother, seizing the opportunity while my husband worked and my daughter attended school. Clad in a black sweater, pants, boots, and a beanie gifted by Klas, I drove to a nearby cafe and patiently waited in line. Ordering four hot coffees and an assortment of pastries, I observed the worker's lingering stare as I paid, prompting a perplexed frown. "The fuck you lookin at?" I questioned, receiving only a shake of his head. Displeased, I scratched my brow, perturbed by the unexplained scrutiny.
Mickey:
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With the beverages and pastries in tow, I navigated my way to Natalie's house, parking the car before making a somewhat abrupt entrance. Inside, Max sat with a girl on his lap, while Natalie and Millie collaborated in the kitchen. Placing the coffees and pastries on the table, I exchanged greetings with the two girls.
"How's Willow and Klas?" Millie inquired. Sipping my coffee, I responded, "Willow's great, so excited for her first day at school. Klas is good." My attention shifted to the girl on Max's lap, prompting a question. "Who's that?" I queried. Natalie, giggling, provided the answer. "Max's new girlfriend." Chuckling, I mused over the unexpected pace at which Max had found someone new after his recent breakup.
We gathered in the living room, engrossed in movies. Max inquired about my niece's arrival, and I nonchalantly shrugged, focused on the film unfolding before me. Suddenly, Max interrupted, "Oh yeah, Mick, forgot to introduce you to my girlfriend, Celine." I waved at her, mustering a forced smile. The hours passed swiftly, and when it was time to pick up Willow, I bid them farewell, playfully hitting Max on the head, earning a groan from him.
Driving to Willow's kindergarten, I waited outside for her. Ten minutes later, a flurry of children emerged, and I smiled upon spotting my daughter. Scooping her up, I embraced her tightly. "I missed Papusha," she said, showering my nose with kisses. My joy dimmed upon noticing Ethan. Swiftly placing Willow in her seat and securing the seatbelt, I approached him.
"Oh, Klas isn't coming to pick up Willow?" he inquired innocently. Staring at him with intensity, I delivered a serious message. He gulped, averting his gaze. "If you think it's a good idea to try my husband, I would be more than happy to use my ropes on you. Watching you turn blue might be comforting," I asserted, prompting a nod from him. He forced a smile to parents and kids who bid their goodbyes, my stern warning lingering in the air. "Stay away," I declared before slipping into the car. Swiftly changing my demeanor, I danced happily upon seeing my daughter inside. "Who wants cookies!?" I exclaimed, and Willow, giggling, eagerly raised both arms.
That night, we shared dinner together, and as I fed Willow, she drowsily expressed, "Papusha, I'm sleepy." Her eyes, heavy with fatigue, met mine, and I smiled, lifting her into my arms to prepare for bedtime. After brushing her teeth, I tucked her in and returned to the kitchen, finding Klas arranging the dirty plates and glasses in the dishwasher.
"How was she when you picked her up after school?" he inquired, drying his hands. Taking a sip of water, I replied, "She was happy, but I ran into Ethan, who asked about you." A sigh escaped Klas, and I sensed his unease.
"If there's something, better stay away. You know how much I hate the fact that I can't control my anger. I don't want our daughter to hate me because of it," I expressed before making my way to bed, the weight of my words hanging in the air.
