desiderium | m. o'hara

twenty-five

TW: it gets a lillll spicy but not enough to make it 18+ so ig just watch out for that, guns

  "You're angry at me."

  I hesitate, my fingers pausing over making Rosalina's lunch. It's still early. She's not yet up. Miguel stands in the kitchen entrance and suffocates beneath the weight of my fury.

  Because when I woke up this morning, entangled in Miguel's arms, it had finally set in. The shock of learning about everything yesterday had faded during my slumber, and one facet of what I'd learnt left me bitter - Miguel was engaged to someone else and didn't tell me.

  I'd given him the cold shoulder since.

  I don't usually get angry. I used to, a lot. I used to cling to grudges like mould to old food and would sometimes kick Miguel out of my flat if he pissed me off too much. But he always made up for it, and I always eventually forgave him.

  Then, after we really got serious - after we married and had Rosalina, I changed, as all mothers do, as all adults do as they mature. I grew more patient. I grew more understanding. I stopped holding grudges, because who needs to retain negativity when I have a husband who adores me and a little girl who's the centre of my universe?

  But this is too much.

  I turn to Miguel and cross my arms. "I am."

  Yes, he's busy. Yes, he has an entire army of Spideys to organise and a messed-up multiverse to attend to, and yes, he's learning to be a dad and he's been helping me through the grief of losing my husband. But he still should have told me about her. My easy nature isn't something to be taken for granted.

  I'm not easy to be easy for other people. I'm easy to be easy for me - water over a rock, and all that. But a rock can still hold its own. A rock can still get pissed off with the water.

  Miguel doesn't complain or get upset that I'm still angry after I said I'd forgiven him. He nods in understanding and approaches the bench beside me to help make Rosita's lunch.

  "I should've told you," he says. He cuts her sandwiches into triangles and trims off the edges, just the way she likes them. "I'm sorry."

  "So you've said," I mutter. My rage grows wild. I slam the lunch box lid on and spin to him with a scowl. "Why is she still going to your place? Why haven't you told her to fuck off already?"

  Miguel turns his full attention to me and seems genuinely surprised by the point I've raised. The butter knife is placed in the sink with a quiet clatter. He holds his hands on his hips with focus.

  "I haven't had a chance to," he says, still a little stunned. "I spend all my time either here or at the HQ. I only know it's happening because Lyla reports visitors."

  "Oh, that's a good excuse," I scoff. His brows raise as I turn to shove the peanut butter back into the pantry with more force than necessary. "You couldn't send a text? I thought communicating would be even easier in 2099."

  "I blocked her contacts," Miguel reasons. "I'd hoped she would've gotten the message by now, but clearly she hasn't."

  "So you tell her to stop trying!" I slam the pantry shut. The look I give him is one of incredulity, and then I have to turn away, because he looks so lost that my anger falters. "God- you're a genius but you're still so stupid!"

  "I'll tell her to stop," Miguel assures. He places a his palm on my shoulder and I shrug him off with a huff. "Lo siento, cariño. I thought if I ignored it long enough she'd go away. I don't even live there, anymore."