The door opens a while later, a cold hand shakes me awake. My eyes land on my husband, Tom.

Tom is a handsome white man, with dark blue eyes and pitch black hair. He is tall and well-built, he doesn’t say much, but his stature and reputation gains him more than enough respect and favors from people. He is loved by women, adored by men, and widely perceived as “flawless” in society.

For the first time in two years, since I married him, I think I see a strange emotion in his usually empty gaze. Pain. His eyes are shining with unshed tears. Oh Tom, my Tom. Why do you always have to be so cold?

“Tom..” I squeak.

He doesn’t respond, instead he squeezes my shoulder then lowers himself on the chair.

I watch as he blows out a shaky breath. If only people knew the Tom, I knew. I often wondered how he put on such a friendly face in public, then turned into a stranger the moment we were alone.

I know he blames himself, but, he couldn’t have known that, the time he threw a tantrum and drove away without me, as a punishment for laughing too loud, at a dinner with his business partners, would result in me lying in a hospital bed.

I continue looking at him with nothing but emptiness in my gaze. I lost the very thing I had hope in.

He looks up at me, his fingers rubbing his temples.

“I don’t want to be here.” I tell him.

He furrows his thick eyebrows and stands up, striding to the other side of the room. He’s wearing a black suit, it fits his hard body perfectly. He’s just come from work. Nothing would keep Tom away from work, not even the loss of his son.