"I love you Klas"

Part 17

Klas's pov:

I rose from bed, still nursing a hangover from the previous night, and made my way to the shower. As the cool water washed over my face, a sigh escaped me, accompanied by the throbbing pain in my head. Dressed and groaning, I headed to the kitchen, where I found Mickey feeding Willow breakfast. The air between us was thick with unspoken tension; neither of us greeted nor exchanged glances.

Seating myself beside Willow, I filled a cup with cold water, attempting to drown out the silence. It became apparent that Willow was upset with me; she maintained her silence, directing her conversation solely towards Mickey. A heavy sigh accompanied my own water-gulping as I observed my daughter eating.

The sudden buzzing of my phone interrupted the uneasy atmosphere. Rushing to my bedroom, I retrieved the device and answered the call from my assistant, Nara. "What is it, Nara?" I inquired. Her voice carried a sense of panic and fear. "We lost everything," she revealed, leaving me bewildered. "Everything?" I asked, seeking clarification. With a sigh, she confirmed, "One of our companies is bankrupt."

The shocking revelation echoed through me. "WHAT?!" I exclaimed, startling both Mickey and Willow. Nara urged me to come, and with a quick thank you, I hung up. Staring down at my phone, still grappling with the news, Mickey inquired, "What fucking happened?" Unable to articulate the magnitude of the situation, I shook my head.

Seeing my distress, Mickey approached, concern etched on his face. "What is it?" he pressed, and in tears, I informed him about the bankruptcy. "Oh fucker," he muttered, wiping away my tears. Sensing the gravity of the situation, I asked, "Can you drive me to father?" He nodded.

As Mickey drove us to my father's place, the weight of stress lingered. His comforting gesture of holding my hand, gently rubbing his thumb against it, offered a momentary solace, and I managed a faint smile. Although Mickey sensed my continued distress, he remained a supportive presence.

Upon arrival, Mickey parked the car, and I stepped out, ringing the doorbell. He followed, carrying Willow, as my father greeted us at the door. Seated with him, I poured out the details of our recent setbacks. "We can try another one, and I can help you with this too," my father offered, his wealth standing as a safety net. Yet, my desire for independence and self-reliance fueled my reluctance to lean on familial resources. The frustration lingered, compounded by the inability to salvage the company.

"I need a smoke," I declared, and my father nodded in understanding. Acknowledging my need for a momentary escape, he handed me a cigarette and a lighter as I stepped outside to grapple with the stress looming over me.

I paced around outside, seeking solace in the rhythm of my cigarette. A new gardener approached, scrutinizing me and my smoking habit. "What?" I snapped, my stress leaving little room for politeness. Unfazed, he rolled his eyes and urged, "Don't smoke here." Frustration surged, and I retorted, "Do you know who I am?" He sighed, responding, "No, but stop polluting the air, sir," with a raised brow. Overwhelmed and no longer caring, I flicked away my cigarette and threw a punch, sending him stumbling.

Trembling with upset emotions, the gardener retaliated, and our altercation escalated. Just as the confrontation reached a boiling point, Mickey and my parents emerged. My mother's pleas for us to stop echoed as Mickey rushed to restrain me, carrying me inside as I continued to kick and resist. In our room, Mickey deposited me on the bed with a force that elicited a scream.

"Calm the fuck down!" he yelled, and a moment of fear silenced me. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he demanded, and I could only shake my head, sobbing. Sighing, he climbed onto the bed, pulling me closer as I rested my head on his chest, still overcome with emotion. Mickey tenderly caressed my hair, attempting to soothe my troubled spirit. Gradually, I calmed, sitting up and staring at him.

"It'll be okay," Mickey reassured, and I nodded, exhaling a heavy sigh.

"You know, Mickey," I trailed off. "With everything going on and our relationship, I just want to end everything," I added, leaving Mickey puzzled. "What do you mean?" he asked, seeking clarification. I sighed, unsure of my own thoughts and words. "Mickey, I've been contemplating selling the companies and, you know, us getting a divorce," I confessed.

"Divorce?" Mickey's response carried a mix of upset and confusion. I nodded, and he reacted strongly, exclaiming, "So you've been thinking about fucking leaving me? Is that it?" His voice raised in frustration, and I attempted to reassure him, "No, I was just thinking. It's not like I'm going to do it, Mickey." He frowned, visibly upset, and abruptly left the bed, expressing his discontent. "You're a fucking motherfucker" he spat out before storming out, slamming the door shut.

I sat there, overwhelmed with regret for the words that had escaped me. I hadn't intended for them to sound so harsh and serious, uncertain about what I was truly thinking.

Mickey's pov:

After five years of marriage, discovering that Klas had been contemplating divorce left me shattered. I never wanted a man to leave me; I had always envisioned myself as the one deciding to leave. The abrupt realization of Klas contemplating separation left me upset and feeling dumped. In my distress, I swiftly left the room, determined to find solace with Willow.

Attempting to regain composure, I approached Mary, who was playing with Willow. Forcing a smile, I suggested, "Let's get dinner for Daddy, yeah?" I picked up Willow, informing Mary, "I'll be back, Mare." She nodded, smiling, as I hurriedly left the house and drove away.

In the car, Willow innocently asked, "Where are we going, Papusha?" I attempted to muster a smile, replying, "We're going to meet Daddy's new friend, and he has lots of toys." Willow giggled, oblivious to the crumbling reality of her parents' marriage. Determined to shield her from the painful truth, I drove far from town, eventually parking and grabbing my phone to call my old friend, Yuri. He picked up immediately, and I asked if I could visit.

Yuri and I were like brothers, having weathered life's challenges together. We were a support system for each other. "Let's go," I said, starting the drive to Yuri's house as Willow began to drift into sleep in the back seat.

Upon our arrival, I gently carried Willow to Yuri's door and knocked. After a brief wait, Yuri opened the door, his face lighting up with a smile upon seeing me. "Hey, brother," he warmly greeted, and I chuckled at his familiarity. While taken aback by the unexpected sight of me with a child, Yuri urged us inside.

Curious, he asked, "Who's that child?" I carefully laid Willow on the couch, ensuring her comfort as she peacefully slept. "My daughter, Willow," I replied, and Yuri handed me a bottle of beer, a silent acknowledgment of the complexities that brought me to his doorstep.

Seated on opposite ends of the couch, Yuri inquired, "So, what's up?" I sighed, grappling with the weight of the situation, and began sharing the intricate details of the unfolding mess. The complexity of it all left me uncertain about the path forward, my thoughts mired in the tangled web of emotions and decisions that lay ahead.

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