A Dangerous Obsession

Chapter 23 - Miscommunication

I surrendered the bathroom to Chris for his nightly routine. There was a continuous vibration resonating on the table when I combed my wet hair. It certainly was not my phone, since I had turned it off moments ago. I scrambled through a few files on our desk, eventually spotting Chris' mobile. 

Despite the nervous pit in my stomach, I nevertheless picked up the device and checked his screen. It was another message from that office slut whom persisted to pop with new notifications.

'Already missin you!' I read text after text, while the nervousness in my lower abdomen evolved into churning twinges. 'Love our work late nights.'

"Why does he have that stupid passcode?!" I yelled in frustration, nourishing the ardent rage that burned to erupt into vehement flames. "I feel so sick."

Experiencing déjà vu all over again was destroying my resolve to not seek a cure to alleviate the pain like an addict would a drug. I craved something to numb the emotions, or control the impulses.

"Hey, baby. Are you okay? I heard a noise." Chris clutched the heat pack in his hand, compassionately holding it against my temple. "I hope this feels better, sweetheart." He lovingly planted a kiss on the bridge of my nose.

"Here's your phone," I uttered defeatedly, sickened by the texts I had seen.

"Thank you." He nonchalantly retrieved it from my fingers, though not without sensing my reluctancy. "Is everything alright? You look a tad gloomy."

"I am, because it hurts, Chris." I sobbed, nestling my face into his torso. "It hurts so fucking much."

"Sorry, baby, I thought the heat pack would work... Should I get something else?" He suggested, benevolently.

I don't blame his naivety to my feelings. He wasn't a mind reader to understand how I felt or the right things to say. Chris was accustomed to being straightforward and stoic. He'd refrain from making guesses or pressuring another to speak their mind. If someone said they were fine, then he wouldn't question it. That was his personality and mine was to hide everything in fear it would cause a detrimental reaction.

"I'm fine." I did my utmost to plaster a fake smile, but it appeared crooked and insincere.

"Let me know if you need anything. I'm always here, okay?" He safely enfolded me in his arms, laying his chin atop my head.

"H-How's work been?" This was my first step towards gaining a little confidence before I interrogate him further. "Are you almost done with that important case?"

"Well, it seems to be one of those unnecessarily dragged out cases. The defendant requested an appeal for their matter to be heard in the High Court," he spouted with vast enthusiasm. Anyone could tell that he truly loved his job and took pride in it.

"I cannot go into specifics due to confidentiality reasons, but there is a substantial amount of evidence which can convict the defendant to a life sentence. We've spent months trying to reach a settlement for him to plead guilty and only serve 15 years. However, he is very hell-bent on receiving no conviction and refused to cooperate with the prosecution team. He's just prolonging the inevitable and wasting our time."

"Uhh..." I was speechless, straining to comprehend the provided information. David had merely taught me the basics. We never divulged into the particulars of law, especially not judicial procedures.

Does that mean that Chris and I lacked common interests? Is that why he prefers talking to the other woman, because she can understand him in a manner I cannot?

"Baby, you look lost." He chuckled lightly, his smile reaching to his eyes.

God, why did my husband have to be so sexy?