"I love you Klas"

Part 16

Klas's pov:

In anticipation of the artistic showdown, today marked a pivotal moment for me. The exhibition, a forum where artists showcase their creations through multiple rounds, was underway. My adversary in this creative clash was none other than Adrian Vale, a fiercely competitive individual and my longstanding rival. Excitement and apprehension swirled within me; as someone driven by competition, the thought of losing was unsettling.

To prepare for the day, I rose at the early hour of 4 AM and took a refreshing shower. Mickey and I, despite our recent conflicts, decided to reside separately for Willow's sake. While disagreements lingered, we tacitly chose to set them aside. Recognizing the toxicity, I understood that one day we would confront these issues head-on.

For breakfast, I crafted avocado and egg brown rice bowls paired with small berry smoothie bowls. Waking up Willow proved challenging as she resisted leaving her slumber. Urging her to hurry for school, I encountered resistance, including a plush projectile. Resolute, I sought Mickey's assistance.

"Willow, come on, you'll be late for school," I said sternly, and she frowned. "Don't do this to me," I added, and she threw her plush right at my face. I sighed and headed to Mickey.

"Mickey, wake up, Willow doesn't want to get up," I said, and Mickey sighed. "Just fucking skip school today," he said grumpily. "Mickey, be cooperative; I have work today, and I don't want to be late," I yelled. He got up grumbling. "You're making me fucking sick, man" he hissed and walked out.

I packed my things and went to the kitchen to see Willow eating ice cream. "Mickey!" I yelled, grabbing the ice cream from Willow. "What are you thinking? Ice cream for breakfast?" I scolded, and he frowned. "That's the only way for her to get up," he said, and I sighed, upset with everything. Willow started to cry, and it was too much for me. I handed her back the ice cream and stormed off to the bedroom, with Mickey following.

"Fuck is wrong with you?" he said, upset, and I stared at him. "None of you guys understand me. I woke up early, made breakfast, and I just want you guys to wake up, eat, and go to school, that's all," I said. Mickey chuckled. "You can just go to work without doing that," he said, making me more upset. "And leave my daughter like that? No healthy breakfast, skipping school? I don't want her to have a childhood like you, Mickey," I spouted. The clash of perspectives unfolded, with me striving to provide a wholesome environment for Willow, in contrast to Mickey's more laissez-faire approach.

"And what about my damn childhood?" he yelled back. "You don't get to mock me, fucker!" he added, and I shook my head. If I continued this fight, I would be late for work, and it would be very unprofessional of me.

"I don't want to fight right now, Mickey!" I said, sighing. "Yeah, just walk, like the bitch you are!" he retorted, and I chose to ignore him. However, he crossed a line when he grabbed my arm, causing pain and leaving marks. I pushed him away, yelling, "Don't touch me, Mickey!" He frowned and walked out of the room, leaving me frustrated.

I harbored resentment towards him; he had managed to ruin my morning. Determined to maintain professionalism, I grabbed my bag and left the house without bidding them goodbyes. Driving to work, I reflected on the tumultuous start to the day.

As I arrived at the museum with my assistant for the event, the bustling crowd filled the atmosphere. We navigated through the throng to the waiting room, where I took a moment to scrutinize my artworks.

"We're going to win this, boss," my assistant affirmed, and I responded with a confident smile. Amid our conversation, I thought about Mickey. "Do you always argue with your husband?" I asked, and though initially confused, she replied, "Sometimes, but not every day. Why?"