Unmatched Wife: Not His To Claim Anymore novel Chapter 48

Chapter 48

Chapter 48

MATTHEW

I woke for the third time that night with Bianca’s name dying on my lips, my heart was pounding hard against my ribs like it was trying to escape my chest. I placed a hand to it, taking deep breaths to regulate myself, my eyes searching for nothing particular in the dark room, faintly lit up by the moon light from the sky.

The dream had been the same as always. It always started with Bianca standing in the doorway of our bedroom, wearing the clothes she’d worn that last day, but there was one off thing in that dream, she didn’t speak at all, neither did she accuse me or urse me or do any of the things I deserved.

She just watched me with those betrayed and devasted eyes, the same kind that had looked at me in the driveway before I dragged her to her death.

I sat up, my sheets soaked with sweat despite the cool temperature of the room. My hand reached automatically for her side of the bed…a habit I still couldn’t break off weeks after and found nothing but cold empty space.

I tried sleeping in the guest room, thinking it would help, but I still saw her in my dreams. Still watched with those eyes that asked questions I couldn’t answer.

*Why did you choose her over me?*

*Why wasn’t I enough?*

*Why did you kill me?*

I stumbled to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the images that remained rooted to my memory brain as I stared at the mirror, staring at the reflection of a man I barely recognized. Sunken cheeks, hollow eyed with sleep bags underneath it. It looked like I had aged 10 years in mere 2 weeks.

“She’s dead,” I told my reflection, my voice hoarse as I continued speaking. “She’s dead and she’s not coming back and you need to accept that.”

The clock on the nightstand read 4:47 AM. Too early to start the day, too late to attempt sleep again. I pulled on sweatpants and a t–shirt and headed downstairs, hoping coffee and mindless television might chase away the ghosts that clung to me.

But I paused outside Theo’s room, listening.

Silence.

There was something different about Theo, before, he was in denial about his mama’s death and was always screaming and crying, until one day, he suddenly stopped talking,

I pushed open his door quietly and found him curled in his bed, his stuffed wolf clutched to his chest, his eyes wide open and staring at nothing.

“Theo?” I whispered. “Buddy, are you awake?”

He didn’t respond. Didn’t even blink. Just kept staring at the ceiling with that blank, hollow expression that terrified me more than his screaming ever had.

“It’s okay,” I said, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. “You’re safe. Daddy’s here.”

Nothing. Not even a flinch when I touched his shoulder.

This was the third night I’d found him like this. Awake but not present. Breathing but not living. My four–year–old son had checked out of reality, and I had no idea how to bring him back.

Chapter 48

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“Please, Theo,” I heard myself beg, my voice cracking. “Please talk to me. Yell at me, tell me you hate me, anything. Just please don’t disappear like this.”

His lips moved, forming a single word so quietly I almost missed it: “Mama.”

Then his eyes closed, and he turned away from me, curling tighter around his stuffed wolf.

I sat there for another ten minutes, watching him pretend to sleep, before I finally gave up and left.

Downstairs, I found Mia in the kitchen making coffee. She’d taken to sleeping in late, claiming she was still recovering from the surgery even though her healthy pallor didn’t match with her words.

“Morning,” she said, her voice falsely cheerful. “Want some breakfast? I was thinking I could make those pancakes Theo likes, maybe try to get him to eat something.”

“He won’t eat them.” I poured myself coffee with hands that shook slightly. “He won’t eat anything from you. You know that.”

“He just needs time to process his feelings and then…”

“He needs his mother.” The words came out harsher than intended, and I saw Mia flinch. Normally there would be a part of me that would come to her, hoping that I did not scare her, but it was not there anymore. Like it had died as well, the same day

Bianca died.

“He needs Bianca, and she’s dead, and no amount of pancakes is going to change that.”

Mia’s expression hardened, showing that flash of anger that I had been seeing over the past few days when she reached a stump in whatever she was doing.

“I’m trying, Matthew. I’m doing everything I can to help him, to help both of you move on, to be the family that I always known you have wanted, and all I get is-”

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