Chapter 3 What happened

Chapter 3: What happened?

Alexander's POV

"Dad, we need to discuss something." Liam's tone was sharp, cutting the silence of my study. I didn't raise my eyes from my glass of scotch, the amber liquid swirling in its crystal prison.

I didn't want to face him.

"Not now, Liam," I muttered, trying to drown out the approaching argument. "Oh, it's definitely now." His tone was firm, a hint of frustration laced in every word.

"You've been like this ever since Mom passed away. You've shut everyone out, and I can't stand by and watch you destroy yourself."

I tightened my hold on the glass. "What are you saying? I'm fine."

"fine? Fine? Just take a look at yourself, Dad! You're not fine!" Liam's voice broke with intense emotion. "You're hiding in this damn house, avoiding me, avoiding everyone. You hardly ever leave this room. It's like you're trying to erase the fact that you even have a son. Since Mom died, you've become completely useless."

His words struck harder than I had antispated. I got up, slamming the glass on the desk.

"Mind your words, Liam."

0h"I'm minding them!" Liam short back, his fists tight. "But you know what, maybe you should do the same. I'm your son, Dad, and I can't even get you to listen me for five minutes.

You shut down the instant she passed, and it's not helping anyone! It's not helping you with!"

I stepped closer, my voice icy. "You think I don't understand that? You think I'm unaware of what I've lost?"

"Then why don't you take action?" Liam replied sharply.

"You don't have to get over her, I understand. But you can't keep on pretending like she never existed! You have to move on."

"I don't have to move on," I growled. "She was my wife. You don't just move on from something like that."

Liam threw his hands up in frustration. "It's not about moving on, Dad. It's about living. You have to escape this rut. You need help maybe atleast a housekeeper or something. Someone to talk to, to help you stop bottling everything up."

I didn't hesitate before I snapped back. "I don't need a housekeeper, Liam for the last time. I don't want a stranger in my home, living here and trying to take her place. I loved your mother, and no one will ever replace her. No one."

"Then stop behaving like she's the only thing that matters in this world!" Liam's voice shook. "Stop acting like we don't count. You're not the only one who lost her, you know that."

I stood still, the heaviness of his words enveloping me like a thick mist. Hurting him was never my intention, but the pain inside me was overwhelming. I turned away, facing my back to him.

"You don't get it. You're not the one who was with her every day, who saw her pass away right in front of me. You're not the one who... lost everything."

"Then what the hell are you going to do about it, huh?" Liam's voice was low yet piercing. "Stay here in this room forever, sinking in scotch and memories?"

I didn't have a single answer to his questions. Instead, I dismissed him with a wave, my tone more colder than I intended.

"If you want to leave, Liam, then you can leave. I won't hold you back."He stood there for a moment, gazing at me, his eyes filled with hurt and rage.

Then, without a word, he turned and exited the room, slamming the door behind him.

The silence in the house was crushing. I leaned on the desk, my hands clutching the edge as I shut my eyes. My thoughts raced, yet nothing seemed to be clear.

My son, my flesh and blood, he was right, and still, I couldn't bring myself to care. I couldn't confront the truth of what I had become.

After what felt like hours, I grabbed my coat and stepped out. I needed fresh air. I needed something, anything to ease this choking sensation in my chest.

The club was loud, disorderly, and packed with people who didn't care. It was the last spot I should've visited, but it was the only place where I could blend in unnoticed. I walked in, ignoring the gaze, the music vibrating through my bones.

The last thing I wanted was attention, but I had to escape for a bit.

The bartender gave me a look, but I wasn't in the mood for chit-chat. I ordered a drink, downed it, and signaled for another.

The burn of the whiskey doing little to erase the memory that has been haunting me. It had been two years since the accident-two years since the car somalsauted, spiraling out of control.

I'd been driving. The guilt was a constant companion, a weight I couldn't shake. I'd survived with barely a scratch, but she... Emma didn't make it.

Her laughter, her smile, the way she always seemed to brighten every corner of my life-it was all gone in an instant. And now, the empty spaces in my life felt unbearable. Every room in the house echoed with the absence of her voice.

I stared at my glass, trying to push the memories away when something-or someone-caught my eye.

Across the dimly lit room, a woman stood out amidst the sea of faces. She wasn't loud or overly dressed like many of the others.

She had an understated elegance about her. Her dark hair framed her face perfectly, her red lips curled in a subtle, she seemed not to be happy as she sipped her drink.

She was ordering drinks after drink.

She was alone, and for a moment, something stirred in me-a flicker of curiosity. Maybe it was the way her eyes scanned the room, sharp and observant. Or maybe I was drunk and didn't know what I was doing.

I found myself rising from my seat, drink in hand. It was impulsive, but in that moment, I didn't care. I crossed the room and stopped a few feet away from her. She looked up, her gaze locking onto mine.

What started as a mere conversation between the two of us unfolded into a night of passion neither had expected or could remember clearly.