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ChapterTwenty-Four
Sabella
Ipace in the lounge as the sky turns from clear blue to deep purple, but there’s no word from Angelo. I consider calling a hundred times, but I don’t want to distract him. His focus needs to be on finding the kids.
For most of the day, I wait in front of the window, going out of my mind with worry. I feel physically sick. My thoughts are scattered and disjointed. They jump from one subject to the next, unable to stay focused. Everything turns around in circles in my mind.
He’ll find the kids.
I have to believe that.
They’ll come home, and things will go back to normal.
Normal.
What is that?
How will we pick up the pieces and make a home for the children?
He wants me to move back to the old house.
Not so long ago, I vowed I’d never live in that house. He banished me, and I swore I’d never go back. But everything is different now. It’s not just about him and me any longer. There are children to consider—the unborn baby I carry and the ones I love like my own. I can’t let my pride stand in the way of what’s best for the kids. However, I’m not going back to be locked up in a room. I refuse to return as his prisoner. If I go back, it’s to take my place at his side as his wife.
To build a family.
A family.
It’s crazy how you only realize what’s truly important when you risk losing the people you love. The dream job and independence I mourned so much seem trivial in the light of the situation we’re facing. As long as we can have the kids back, I don’t care about those objectives that once upon a time meant everything to me. Passions and professional goals can be adapted and replaced. People can’t. I just want to hug Sophie and hold her in my arms. I want to cook for the boys and watch them play soccer in the yard. I want to rock my baby in my arms and hush her cries. In the face of this terrible danger, all I want is to be a good mother.
A good mother.
The responsibility scares me. I haven’t had a family for a long time. Not really. Not since my dad died. My dad was my pillar. I’ve never been as close to my mom, not like Mattie. At that time, Mattie was already married and living with Jared in Stellenbosch. I was living alone in Cape Town. The nasty uncovering of my dad’s secret family hung like a dark cloud over our heads. Dad’s death left scars on all of us, but the revelation of his affair shattered the foundations of our family.
Ever since, I’ve been adrift. I thought my friendship with Colin was the anchor I needed. Just as well we didn’t go through with the wedding. Colin and I would never have made it as lovers. Now that I had a taste of how raw, fierce, and devastating passion can be in the arms of my husband, I know it with certainty. I can never touch another man in the same way I touch Angelo. My husband alone can make my body come alive. There’s always been only one man for me.
Angelo Russo.
Right from the start.
The love I felt for him is still there, lying dormant under fertile soil like a grain of seed. My guilt wouldn’t allow it to germinate and grow into its potential with the strength of a pure, beautiful flower. And as I wait in the most anxious moment of my life, the last thread that keeps me from embracing my feelings falls away. As I shed my guilt, a sense of calmness washes over me. I already chose Angelo, but I’m finally free to love him.
By dusk, I force myself to have dinner as I was too nervous to eat lunch. Even though I’m not hungry, I have to think about the baby growing inside me. A dull headache is building behind my temples from the stress. I go upstairs and take the box of painkillers from the medicine kit. After reading the instructions to ensure it’s safe to take during pregnancy, I drink a pill with a glass of water.
I look at the phone in my hand. I’ve been carrying it everywhere with me, refusing to put it down for a second.
It’s been hours.
What’s going on?
Shall I call again?
What if Angelo is in the middle of something dangerous?
No. He’ll let me know what’s happening when he can.
Too scared I’ll miss a call from him, I don’t shower. I only dress in a clean T-shirt and yoga pants, wanting to be ready when Angelo comes home. In my head, I keep on repeating that he’ll arrive soon with the kids. I can’t think about the alternative.
In the reflection of the mirror, my face is pale and my hair disheveled from dragging my fingers through the strands in a nervous reaction all day. I can’t let the children see me like this. I’ll frighten them looking like a mad, wild woman.
