My breath hitches.
“And that’s exactly why I wanted more for Cayce and Corey. Neither of us can guarantee what the world will look like when they’re grown up, so I wanted to at least guarantee that we could give them as big a safety net as possible. Now I don’t know how I’m going to do that. And…”
I realize my breathing is shallow.
“Karan.” Rachel strokes my shoulder and back. “You are capable of so much more than you give yourself credit for. And I love that about you. I love how smart you are, how hard you work, especially for us. But for fuck’s sake, Karan…”
She chuckles, and all I want is to capture that breathy laugh into my mouth and lose myself in her, but we have to see this conversation through.
“Am I nervous about the future, too? Of course. I’m terrified. But no matter how much money we have, there’s nothing we can guarantee. And that’s the hardest part of being a parent.
“We are going to make it through, Karan. You’ll do wonderful things, and you’ll be there for your boys, and even if you don’t get them the trust fund you’re trying to build for them, you have to trust that our hard work as parents will pay off and that they’re going to be okay.”
“I want them to be more than okay.” I choke back a sob. “Rachel, I want so badly for them to have everything they could ever dream of.”
“So do I. So you know what?” She strokes the side of my face. “Let’s show them what it's like to build their own happiness by being the best examples we can be.”
My wife stands, gives my shoulders a brief squeeze, and heads toward the hallway.
“Wait, what?” I ask as I watch her leave. “Where are you… I mean, what are you doing?”
“I’ll be right back,” she promises. “Stay here.”
I’m left to my own devices as time stretches to a standstill while she’s gone. I’m facing the precipice again, on the edge of breaking down, but everything is on hold. It’s like I’m only fully living when Rachel is next to me.
What could she have meant by ‘build your own happiness’?
I let the breath I’d been holding finally go when she traipses back into the living room, her bare feet carefully padding the hardwood floor as quietly as she can so as not to wake the boys. There’s something nestled under her armpit, but I can’t tell what it is. Her lips are upturned in a quiet smile.
And her eyes. They shine like diamonds.
Whatever she’s holding, it’s got her excited.
Rachel sits next to me and takes out what I now recognize as my old laptop. I used to take that bulky thing with meeverywhere, in case I’d get a few minutes of free time to work on my game project.
A rush of nostalgia floods my veins, and my stomach sinks. I miss the man I used to be. The man Rachel fell in love with, who had dreams of starting his own game studio. I miss this project, which was part farm sim, part space exploration and survival. I gave up its development completely when I left Ubisoft and took the job at True Keys.
And with it, I think I gave up part of myself, too.
“Why do you have this?” I immediately ask, my voice a tad bitter.
It’s not that I’m upset at Rachel for bringing this thing out. Rather, I’m bitter at the reminder of everything I’ve lost.
Rachel places the bulky laptop on my lap. “You know, one of my favourite parts of our old evenings was to walk in on you working on this thing. Plugged into its second screen in our bedroom.”
The desk and second screen she’s talking about have lain untouched for nearly a year.
“Lots of wives would be upset at how much time you spent working on this, but I always loved to see how your eyes came to life. And it was never at my expense, or at the kids’ expense, either. I always loved you so much for that.”
I stare at the laptop without grabbing it, feeling its cool surface permeate through the fabric of my jeans.
“I know,” I say simply.
It’s the truth.
I knew this was a part of me Rachel adored.
And I let it die anyway.
