The first ever property Tobias acquired with his own hard earned money, was his current residence. Situated in the most affluent and secluded area of the city, building painted with a bright and eye catching cream color, with ten bedrooms, an indoor and outdoor pool, a garden, three kitchens and even a private office, the house was big enough to impress an normal citizen who had lived a mundane life.
But for the Larsen family who had always lived their lives above the curve of life, this residence was considered basic.
Times without number, they had told Tobias to move out, but he refused, because for some reason, this 'basic' house of his, felt more like home, than any other luxurious estate he had ever lived in.
And now, as he carefully walked around the house, eyes scanning each and every area in hopes of finding the littlest trace of the woman he called his wife, Tobias realized why the house which no longer felt familiar had felt so comfortable.
It was because of Amara.
She had kept the house warm, always preparing his meals and bath whenever he returned, welcoming him with her warm smile and even warmer words.
All those things were what made the house feel like a home. And all those things, he had taken for granted, never appreciating them and treating Amara like a disposable product because he believed that no matter what, that love in her eyes would never fade away.
But after today, he knew he was wrong. The love had faded away and Now, with her gone, the house just felt like another building, boring and devoid of any sing of the once diligent wife that resided in its inner walls, leaving behind only the scent of her alluring perfume.
Which felt wrong and awfully out of place to Tobias. But being the man of pride he was, he refused to acknowledge it. The best he did was take not of her absence, but refused to acknowledge the feelings in his chest, no matter how hard they fought to be acknowledged.
After about thirty minutes of taking notes of the things that had left with Amara, Tobias sat himself upon one of the bar stool in his house and fetched a bottle of vodka and a glass.
As he poured the alcohol into the glass, he thought; ‘Why the hell did I keep thinking about her? Am I regretting my actions?’
Regret, Just the thought of that action alone made him scoff as he downed the first glass, then the second, and third. Soon, he was losing track of how many glasses he had drank, all in the bid to clear the thought of Amara from his mind.
But surprisingly, the more he drank, the more he thought about his soon to be ex wife.
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