"I love you Klas"

Part 7

Klas's pov:

The following week, I found myself invited to an art museum where Adrian celebrated the sale of his painting worth $76,000. Reluctant to attend, I recognized the need to maintain professionalism. Aware of his crush on my husband and his attempts to become my rival both in work and relationships, I aimed to demonstrate my resilience on both fronts. That morning, I rose early to prepare breakfast for my husband and daughter. After getting ready for work, I approached Mickey, kissing him with a reminder to bring lunch for Willow. He nodded as he munched on his food, and I affectionately kissed Willow's forehead before heading to my car.

Arriving at the museum, I greeted the owner and mingled with various business people, patiently awaiting the event's commencement. The room erupted in applause as Adrian made his entrance, a self-satisfied smile adorning his face. I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms in response. Expressing gratitude to the audience, Adrian seized the moment to make a personal revelation.

"Before I unveil this painting, created in just three weeks, I want to express my gratitude to someone who has been my inspiration not only for this work but in life. Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to come out to you all as homosexual," he declared, triggering applause and a flurry of camera flashes. Recognizing this as part of his scheme, I resolved not to let him disrupt my plans.

Shocked by Adrian's audacious revelation of his painting, featuring a likeness of my husband, I fought to conceal my dismay. The depiction of Mickey with short blonde hair, greyish eyes, and a pointed nose was an excessive intrusion. Despite my inner turmoil, I refused to let Adrian claim victory, even as he smirked, acknowledging my presence. The crowd applauded once again, seemingly oblivious to the personal turmoil stirred by this calculated move.

Adrian approached us, and the museum owner commended him, praising the bravery in his artistic expression. "That was very brave of you, Mr. Vale," the owner stated, to which Adrian responded with a self-assured smile. Playing on my discomfort, he declared, "I just realized that blonde men are gods; they're such an inspiration," locking eyes with me.

Attempting to mask my anger, I chuckled, responding, "Of course, I'm married to one," forcing a smile. Adrian proposed a toast, raising his champagne glass and cheering with the others. Refusing to partake in his orchestrated event, I opted to play the game on my terms.

Exiting the museum, I made my way to my car, unlocking it with a smirk. Marrying Mickey had infused me with a certain cunning, an understanding of how to navigate such situations. Now, I was determined to turn the tables on Adrian, to make him regret playing with me. The plan formed in my mind-I would host a party, showcasing my handsome husband to make Adrian jealous and reassert that Mickey was unequivocally mine.

Mickey's pov:

"How's school so far, princess?" I asked Willow, stealing a glance at her through the rearview mirror, a smile forming as I saw her play with her bunny plush's ears. Her innocent remark, "Ethan always asks about Dada," caused a frown to crease my brow. Ethan had crossed a line, questioning my five-year-old daughter about her father.

Parking the car, I stepped out and carefully lifted Willow along with her bags, walking towards her class. Setting her down, I handed over her belongings, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Have fun, Willy," I smiled, watching her happily join her friends. However, Ethan's voice pierced the air with a call for Mickey, and my fists clenched in anger.

"Hey, can we talk outside?" I forced a smile, suppressing the urge to unleash my fury in front of my daughter. Despite my seething rage, I knew violence wasn't the answer, especially with her watching. Outside, my frustration boiled over as I confronted Ethan. "So, you've been asking about my fucking husband to my fucking five years old daughter?" I said, brow furrowed, indicating my intense displeasure.

Attempting an explanation, he stammered, "Oh, actually-" Unable to contain my anger, I threw a punch at his nose, the satisfying crack indicating the impact. He crumpled to the ground, groaning. "Do you realize he's my fucking husband? And my daughter is just five!" I yelled, delivering a kick to his back. The commotion drew the attention of other teachers, who hurriedly intervened, creating a barrier to prevent further violence.

Staring at them defiantly, I chose to retreat, knelt down, attempting to calm myself. "Teach my daughter all those ABCs, not asking her about my damn husband," I hissed, regaining composure as I walked back to my car, determined to put this unsettling incident behind me and return home.

I decided to make a pit stop at a convenience store, needing a moment to calm down. Exiting the car, I headed straight to the drink section, selecting a coke to quell my frustrations. As I approached the cashier with my purchase, I noticed his gaze fixate on my bloody knuckles. Annoyed, I snapped, "the fuck you lookin at? want me to paint your small ass face with these bloody knuckles?" He shook his head, hastily scanning my drink before handing it to me. "That's what I thought," I muttered, walking out, sighing deeply.

A voice calling out "Mickey!" made me turn, only to see my father approaching. "Fuck" I muttered, bracing myself for what was to come. "The fuck you want?" I asked, opening the car door to stow away my drink. His disapproving tone was evident as he remarked, "I heard about your fucking marriage with that man, Mickey. You must be joking." His enduring homophobia didn't surprise me. Retrieving a toy from the car, I aimed it at his head, smirking. "Yes, I'm married to a man, and I enjoy sucking him, You can go fuck yourself if you don't like it because I do," I asserted. He chuckled skeptically. "Are you sure, Mickey?" he prodded. I scoffed, dismissing the inquiry as I got inside the car and drove home, leaving behind his question about his grandkid, Willow.

Klas's pov:

Engrossed in my work, I belatedly realized I was running late for dinner. Swiftly grabbing my wallet, I rushed to the elevator and headed to the cafeteria. To my surprise, I found Mickey and Willow engaged in conversation with Adrian, who playfully toyed with Willow's hand while she sat in Mickey's arms. Frowning, I intervened, grabbing Mickey's hand and swiftly escorting both him and Willow to the elevator, leaving the three of them startled.

In the quiet of the elevator, Willow piped up, "Dada, Papusha and Willow made pizza for Dada!" Her giggle revealed that Mickey held a pizza box, instantly softening my anger. Upon reaching my office, Mickey and Willow settled on the couch, and Mickey offered me a slice with a smile. "Try it; it's pepperoni made with love," he encouraged. Despite its somewhat bland taste, I appreciated the effort they had put into making it.

After a brief lunch and some additional work, I decided to head home. Holding Mickey's hand tightly, we walked past Adrian. Mickey was unequivocally mine, and I was determined to ensure Adrian understood that.

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