6.Can I join you for dinner?
1436 Words
AT THE SAME TIME
ISABELLA'S POINT OF VIEW:
The party buzzed around me, but my focus was on the small, neatly wrapped box in my hands. I opened the box to reveal a delicate silver bracelet, its intricate design catching the light. I got a gift for my talent and I felt happy. Turning slightly, I saw Xavier walking toward me, his jaw tight and his expression unreadable but his eyes were anything but anger.
"Nice gift." He said, his tone clipped as he came to a stop beside me.
"Xavier?"I said.
His gaze flicked to the charm in my hand, then back to the young man.
"I didn’t realize this party had turned into a gift exchange."He said.
The young man, oblivious to Xavier’s tension, chuckled nervously.
"It’s just a token of gratitude. Isabella deserves it."Ethan said.
"She does." Xavier said, his voice lower now. "But gratitude doesn’t require gifts, does it?"
I frowned, my confusion growing a bit more. He never cared about stuff like this before in our marriage.
"Xavier, what are you-"I tried to ask him.
"Enjoy the rest of the party." He interrupted, his eyes locking onto mine for a moment before turning sharply and walking away.
I stared after him, stunned. Why was he acting like this? He’d never shown this kind of possessiveness before. He’d never even given me a gift, let alone cared about someone else doing so. Now he cared, I thought he couldn't wait to leave me and get back to Ana. Even tho he tried to explain some things in my home, I needed much more than a few sweet words. I needed to see at he changed.
IN A FEW DAYS
XAVIER'S POINT OF VIEW:
It had been days since the party, and Isabella’s presence lingered in my mind like a melody I couldn’t forget. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her smile, her kindness, her resilience. And every time I opened them, I felt the weight of all the ways I’d failed her. I sat in my office, staring at the screen, but my mind was elsewhere. Martha walked in, carrying a stack of files, and raised an eyebrow at me.
"You’ve been staring at that screen for ten minutes. It’s not going to magically solve itself, you know." She said, setting the files down.
I sighed, leaning back in my chair.
"Martha, how do you show someone you’ve changed?"I asked.
She paused, clearly surprised by the question.
"You’re asking me for advice on relationships? That’s new."She said.
I shot her a look, but she just smirked.
"Seriously, though." I pressed. "How do I prove to her that I’m not the same man I was?"
Martha crossed her arms, studying me.
"You start by listening. Really listening. And then you show up. Consistently. No grand gestures, no over the top nonsense. Just be there for her. I mean you never cared about her and even I could tell that you only wanted Ana and I can tell that 'kiss' she saw really broke her."
I nodded slowly, her words sinking in.
"She deserves that. More than that, actually."I said.
"She does. But you’ve got to mean it, Xavier. She’s not going to let you back in easily, and she shouldn’t. You have to earn it."Martha said.
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed. I glanced at it briefly before standing up.
"I need some air."I said.
"Of course you do. Just don’t mess this up, okay?"She said.
I didn’t answer, heading out into the crisp afternoon air. Walking through town, I let my thoughts wander. How many times had I taken her for granted? How often had I ignored the little things that made her so remarkable?
As I turned a corner, I stopped in my tracks. There she was. Isabella, standing by a grocery store, balancing two heavy bags in her arms. She looked tired but determined, her hair slightly tousled from the wind. For a moment, I just stood there, watching her. She didn’t see me, too focused on adjusting the bags. I felt a pang in my chest, a mix of guilt and longing. She had always been like this quietly strong, handling everything on her own. And I’d been too blind to appreciate it.
"Need a hand?" I asked, my voice softer than usual.
She startled slightly, looking up at me. Her eyes widened in surprise.
"Xavier? What are you doing here?"She asked.
"Just… out for a walk. I was done with things at work." I said, awkwardly scratching the back of my neck. "Let me help you with those."
She hesitated, clearly debating whether to let me. Finally, she sighed and handed me one of the bags.
"Thanks." She said quietly.
As we walked, the aroma of fresh bread and herbs wafted from the bag, stirring a memory I hadn’t thought about in years, her cooking.
"I haven’t had homemade food in a while." I said, trying to sound casual.
She glanced at me, her expression unreadable.
"I remember. You used to complain about my cooking all the time."She said.
I winced. I never paid attention to her cooking and how much she tried to make it great for me in those two years of marriage.
“I was an i***t. Your cooking was… is amazing."I said.
She didn’t respond, but a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at her lips.
Walking beside her, I realized how much I had missed this her presence, her quiet strength, and even the way she carried herself with a mix of grace and determination. And for the first time in years, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I wanted my wife and now I understood my mistake of chasing another woman who never sent me a message in those 3 years. We reached her apartment building, the familiar structure that I now realized I had overlooked so many times in the past.
“Thanks for helping." She said, her tone polite but distant.
"Anytime." I replied.
As we stepped inside, the warmth of her home greeted us. It was small, cozy, and filled with little details that screamed Isabella's home. The books stacked neatly on the coffee table, a throw blanket draped over the couch, and the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. She placed the bag on the counter and began unpacking, her movements efficient but unhurried. I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say or do.
"Do you want me to help?" I asked, breaking the silence.
She glanced at me, her eyebrows raising slightly.
"You? Help in the kitchen?"She asked.
"Hey, I can be useful." I said, holding up my hands in mock offense.
She let out a soft laugh, the sound like a balm to my frayed nerves.
"Alright, fine. You can put the vegetables in the fridge."She said.
"You’ve been doing all this on your own." I said, more to myself than to her.
She paused, a can of soup in her hand.
"I didn’t have much of a choice."She said.
Her words hit me harder than I expected. I turned to look at her, but she avoided my gaze, focusing on the groceries instead.
"Isabella." I began, my voice softer now." I know I can’t undo the past. But I want to be better for you. I want to show you that I’ve changed."I said.
She stopped unpacking, her hands resting on the counter. When she finally looked at me, her eyes were filled with a mixture of emotions hurt, doubt, and something else I couldn’t quite place.
"You say that now, Xavier." She said quietly. "But it’s not that simple. Words don’t fix things."
"I know." I said quickly. "That’s why I’m not just saying it. I’m trying to show you. I know I have a long way to go, but I’m not giving up."
She shook her head, a small, sad smile on her lips. "You’re stubborn, you know that?"She said.
"Only when it comes to things that matter." I replied, stepping closer.
“Dinner will be ready in an hour." She said, her tone signaling the end of the conversation.
I nodded, stepping back.
"I’ll leave you to it, then. But, Isabella… thank you for letting me help."I said.
She didn’t respond, but I caught the faintest flicker of a smile as she focused on her task. As I left her kitchen, I couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And for Isabella, I was willing to fight for every inch.
- Writer
