Page 2 of In the Lonely Hour

Layla paused, waiting for Carlos to show some kind of interest in what was going on with their growing child. She was glad Dior had long since started eating dinner alone in her room at the small dining room table setup Layla had created for her. If there was one thing Dior could do, it was pick up on the static between her parents. She may not have vocally expressed anything about it, but it would quickly cause her to have a meltdown or shutdown altogether.

It was true—neither Carlos nor Layla wanted children. Married at eighteen, right after high school, the last thing they wanted was a child to force them to slow down. Dreams of awealthy lifestyle, partying into the morning, and traveling to see all parts of the world had been both of their priorities. However, when Layla found out she was pregnant at the start of her Sophomore year of college, her plans changed almost instantly. The moment she heard Dior’s heart beating, there was nothing more that she wanted than to be her mother.

She ended up dropping out of school to be a stay at home mom, and Carlos made sure they didn’t want for anything financially. There was always the matter of him neglecting to give them himself, though. He continued on with the plan he had for his life… climbing up the corporate ladder, having and attending dinner parties every other night, and traveling out of the country every couple of months. Layla thought he would be more hands on when they found out Dior had Asperger’s Syndrome, but if anything, that made him stay away more.

It was almost as if he resented Layla for even having her. Like she’d gotten pregnant on her own without his help. Just thinking about it had Layla’s heart pounding as she released a hard breath.

“Are you even listening to me, Carlos?”

“Yeah,” he answered quickly, eyes still on his phone.

“Then say something.”

“What do you want me to say, Layla?”

She scoffed and sat back in her seat, staring at him as his eyes remained glued to his phone.

“I want you to show a little excitement. Our daughter finally has a desire to have a friend. Do you not understand how big this is?”

Carlos’s head tilted and he finally set his phone down on the table. Their eyes remained locked for a few seconds before he said, “This is great news, Layla. I’m really happy Dior wants to make a new friend,” in a flat tone that made her chuckle and shake her head.

“The hell was I thinking, thinking you would be as excited about this as me? Why would you think, your daughter, who has trouble socializing, wanting to make a friend would be a big deal?”

She jumped up from her seat so quickly and forcefully it rocked and almost fell. Carrying her half full plate to the kitchen, Layla willed her tears not to fall. More than sad or even angry, Layla was tired. Tired of feeling like she was the only one invested in this marriage or raising their child for that matter. For the past three years, Carlos had been like a slot holder more than anything else.

Though Layla often asked God in the past why He’d given their daughter a mild form of Autism, she had learned over the years that Dior was how she was for a very specific reason—to remind Layla of what was most important in life while teaching her grace, patience, and how to love on a daily basis. In return, Dior gave Layla all the love she could. Though she may have had trouble interacting with everyone else, Layla was Dior’s safe place to comfortably express herself. And having that honor was the greatest honor that had ever been bestowed upon Layla.

If anything, her questioning God about Dior turned into questions about Carlos. He didn’t deserve them. But he was Dior’s father, and Layla owed it to her to try and make their family work no matter what.

After emptying her plate in the trash, Layla washed it and put it in the dishwasher. When she returned to the dining room, it didn’t surprise her that Carlos was gone. She cleared the table and wiped everything down in the kitchen, then headed to their bedroom. The sight of Carlos’s luggage at the foot of the bed caused her heart to squeeze.

Her brows wrinkled, throat tightened. Like it didn’t want to allow her to ask, “What are you doing?”

Not bothering to look up at her, Carlos pulled two large handfuls of clothes out of his drawer.

“Leaving.”

“And going where?”

“To Jasmine’s.”

Layla shuffled back, weakened by his words. Her mouth opened but quickly snapped shut. Crossing her arms over her chest, like that would keep his words from striking her heart, she shook her head.

“I thought we agreed you would never stay the night with them?”

Their marriage was open on Carlos’s end, mainly because it was the only thing keeping them from divorcing. Technically separated, they were still living together and keeping up their façade for Dior’s sake. It had been over a year since Layla had sex with her husband or any other man for that matter, but that for damn sure hadn’t stopped him from getting his dick wet.

In the beginning, it was hard for Layla to keep up with how many women he was seeing. About three months ago, he’d dropped them all for one. For Jasmine. Layla didn’t want to accept it, but it was clear that she meant more. That she was different. Still, Layla didn’t feel any anxiousness because they’d agreed to remain married until Dior, at least, finished school. She didn’t handle change well, and Layla had become accustomed to living her life in whatever way made Dior’s easier—even if that meant accepting her husband’s cheating.

“I can’t do this shit no more, Lay.”

A soft chuckle fell from her lips as she squeezed the bridge of her nose. Layla waited until she was standing directly in front of him to ask, “You can’t do what?” Her arm stretched across his luggage, forcing him to look at her. “I’m the one that maintains this household and raises your daughter. All I ask you to do ispay the bills and be present. Is that what you’re saying you can’t do anymore, Carlos?”

He shrugged, avoiding her eyes. Layla wanted to believe it was because he knew what he was doing was wrong and he couldn’t bear to face her. More than anything, it was a sign of just how detached he was.

“I guess so, yeah. If that’s how you want to take it. I’m tired of being here when I want to be with Jasmine.”

Layla rubbed the heel of her palm against her chest. She swallowed hard as her head shook slow in disbelief. This had always been a possibility, but nothing could have prepared Layla for this moment. It didn’t matter how much she told herself she was okay with the way he was moving, the possibility of him leaving permanently had her lungs constricting and making it nearly impossible to breathe. Feeling dizzy, she wrapped her hand around her throat as it felt like it would close. Pulling in deep, shaky breaths, Layla fought to not crumble right where she stood.

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