"I love you Klas"

Part 4

Mickey's pov:

Still upset with Klas for keeping a secret, I proceeded with my morning routine without talking to him. As I fed Willow, Klas packed her lunchbox, attempting to engage me in conversation. "Let's go, Willy," I said, rising to shower her. Ignoring Klas's attempt to communicate, I carried Willow to her room, passing him without a glance. "I'm going to work now," Klas said, kissing Willow's cheeks before leaving.

Driving Willow to kindergarten, I walked her to her classroom, offering words of reassurance. "Be a good girl for Daddy, and I'll pick you up after school," I told her, kissing her forehead. As Ethan's voice called my name, I sighed. "What?" I hissed, irritated. "Let's be professional; I would like to apologize," he said, extending his hand. I scoffed, walking away, and drove off to buy groceries.

As I wandered through the store in search of green apples—Klas had developed a sudden preference for healthier eating—I found myself mistakenly in the vegetable section. A woman's voice playfully corrected my fruit-and-vegetable knowledge, pointing out that apples belonged to the fruit category. Startled by her presence, I responded with a muttered acknowledgment and continued my quest.

"Don't you remember me?" she asked, her voice familiar but distant. I furrowed my brows, puzzled. "Do I know you?" I inquired, to which she chuckled. "It's me, Lyubov," she revealed, and my response was a simple, "Oh." Lyubov was an ex from my youth, a person I had dated during a period of identity confusion. Wrestling with a newfound crush on a boy, I sought refuge in a relationship with her, partially to conceal my emerging bisexuality. While she provided companionship and care, she eventually departed abruptly, leaving me in a state of perpetual wondering. Learning later that she had moved away without a word shattered my belief in lasting friendships and instilled a sense of skepticism regarding the enduring nature of connections.

"What brings you back here?" I inquired, feeling a certain awkwardness at the sight of Lyubov, now transformed into a beautiful woman. My memories of her were etched with short hair and a missing front tooth.

"I'm here to visit my grandparents," she explained with a smile. "Even though they're gone, I want to cherish their memories."

"But I thought they had passed away?" I expressed my confusion, and she nodded, sighing softly.

"Just visiting to keep their memories alive," she replied.

"Would you like some help?" I offered, and she nodded in agreement. Opting to complete my grocery shopping first, I later drove Lyubov to her old house.

Klas's pov:

I was still feeling the stress from last night's argument with Mickey, who had been ignoring me this morning. Engrossed in my work on the laptop, a knock on the door caught my attention. "Come in," I called out, leaning back in my comfortable chair. My assistant informed me that someone wished to visit, and I agreed, standing up to greet the guest. Sighing as Adrian walked in with a sinister smile, I extended my hand for a polite handshake.

"Good morning, Mr. Ruslanov," he greeted, and we shook hands, the tension palpable. "Just Klas," I replied, motioning for him to take a seat on the sofa across from me. "What brings you here?" I inquired.

"I'm here to politely remind you that I'm not giving up my place as the top artist. It's better if you just stay in your circle," he asserted, raising a brow. Despite his intimidating demeanor, I remained unfazed. I wasn't afraid of someone who chose to be competitive with me. Well aware of my competitive nature, I was determined to surpass him, no matter the cost.

"Thank you for the reminder, but I'm sorry, I don't take advice from anyone," I declared as our eyes met. His gaze was hawk-like, and he chuckled before standing up. I followed suit. "I hope you won't re—"

I cut him off with a firm statement, "I have the biggest client in town interested in my work, so thanks for your time; you may leave." He nodded, visibly upset, and exited. I wouldn't let a man like him intimidate me; after all, I was married to a former thug, well-versed in dealing with rude individuals.

I had brought dinner from a restaurant, and upon entering the house, I found it eerily empty. Mickey and Willow were supposed to be home by now, but my concern heightened as I received no messages. Placing the food on the table, I sank into a chair, pulled out my phone, and dialed Mickey's number.

He didn't answer initially, but when he finally did, I demanded, "Mickey, where are you? Where's Willow?" A sense of unease crept in as he muttered, "Fuck" admitting, "I forgot to pick her up," his voice tinged with fear. "Mickey!" I exclaimed, my annoyance growing. "I'll fucking go now!" he yelled back, but I quickly responded, "No, never mind. I'm going to," my frustration palpable.

Before I could end the call, a woman's voice chimed in, "Everything's okay, Mick?" Frowning deeply, I hung up. The use of "Mick" was reserved for his brother Max, and it held significance for Mickey. What upset me even more was the realization that I had no knowledge of this girl or the fact that Mickey was meeting her, only discovering it when he forgot to pick up our daughter from school.

I drove to Willow's kindergarten, upset with Mickey. Exiting the car in haste, I rushed inside to find Ethan consoling a tearful Willow, who was likely distressed by Mickey's untimely absence. I hurriedly embraced her, expressing my apologies repeatedly. "Where's papusha?" she asked, and I sighed, reassuring her that he would return.

As I secured Willow in her seat, Ethan, overstepping boundaries, inquired, "Are you and Mickey having relationship problems?" Annoyed, I retorted, "It's none of your business," and proceeded to my car. However, Ethan intercepted, grabbing my arm and asserting, "You know I never treated you wrong. I'll be here if you need me." Frowning, I pushed his hand away and drove back home, the tension lingering in the air.

Mickey's pov:

I rushed home after escorting Lyubov to the hotel, parked the car, and entered the house to find it eerily quiet. In Willow's room, she was already peacefully asleep. Kissing her forehead, I couldn't shake off the guilt for forgetting to pick her up from school. Moving to our bedroom, I discovered Klas sleeping. As I sat on the bed, he stirred, and his voice cut through the silence, "Mickey."

Turning to face him, he gestured for me to come closer. Grabbing my face gently, he suddenly inspected my neck. "What are you doing?" I asked, frowning.

"To check for hickeys or lipstick stains," he replied, and my frustration flared. "Is that what you think of me? A cheating scum?" I yelled, and he flinched.

"Yeah, you forgot to pick up our daughter, and I heard a woman's voice calling you 'Mick.' Even I, your husband, don't call you that, Mickey," he retorted.

"Call me a damn cheater when I know you're fucking cheating with that fucker too," I hissed, storming out of the room.

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