COLD TRAP

Chapter 86 

MIRABELLA 

The tension in the air is brewing hot as we avoid each other, the silence between us deafening. It’s been days since our argument, and the distance between us feels like an insurmountable chasm. 

Another day passes and the silence still remains. 

I walk down the stairs and he’s there, at the foot of the stairs, his mouth positioned as though he wishes to speak to me. 

I don’t want to talk to him. I turn back around and run back into my room, locking the door behind me. 

It’s become a routine for the both of us. 

Today he’s frustrated at me, and tomorrow, it‘ 

me who’s frustrated at him. 

It’s a very unhealthy way to deal with our problems, but I cannot bear to stand and watch myself looked down upon by a man I’ve stood by and condoned for so long. 

I’ve had enough of this back and forth. 

Another day passes and it’s still the same. 

12 

ん 

Another day passes and I grow more anxious of this unending silence. Matteo creeps around me. He watches me from the shadows, takes care of me without actually showing his face to me; he has been a good husband through this our unending days of silence, still, I do not wish to give in so easily. 

A day turns into seven, yet, the dark tension in our lives continues to grow. 

And then seven days becomes fourteen. 

God, this is so nerve wracking. 

Fuck me. 

I wander through the empty rooms of our home, the only sound being the creaking of the wooden floorboards beneath my feet. 

Matteo is nowhere to be found, but I know he’s avoiding me. I can feel it. 

Maybe because I seem to lash out a lot these days. I’m like a ticking time bomb. So I can understand his need to avoid me at all costs. 

But I miss him. 

Every now and then, I catch a glimpse of him, but he quickly disappears, leaving me with a pang of sadness and longing. We used to be inseparable, but now it feels like we’re strangers living in the same house. 

The kitchen, once filled with laughter and conversation, is now a barren landscape. Meals are eaten in silence, or worse, alone. The fridge is stocked with food, but the hunger between us can’t be satisfied by mere sustenance. 

As I move through the house, I notice the little things that used to bring us joy are now reminders of our estrangement. The photo on the mantle, once a symbol of our love, now seems like a distant memory. The couch, where we used to cuddle and watch movies together, is now a vast expanse of emptiness. 

Days blend together as we continue to avoid each other. The only constants are the echoes of our footsteps and the weight of our unspoken words. It’s as if we’re living in a state of suspended animation, waiting for something to break the spell. 

I sleep through an unrestful night and wake up to a dull and depressing morning. 

Sighing, I clamber down the bed and force myself to get through the activities of the morning before going to see my kids and handle my business. 

When my time in the bathroom and then the walk in closet comes to an end, I make my way to my door, intending to leave the room and make myself and kids something to eat for breakfast. 

I pull open my door, and he’s standing there. 

Him, Matteo, my husband. 

I gasp in shock and stumble backwards as I try to close back the door. But he’s quicker and stronger than I am. 

He holds the door strong, keeping me from shutting it in his face. 

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+5 

Chapter 86 

“What are you-” 

He cut me off, “I don’t care what you think of me or of this marriage, and I quite frankly cannot continue to live like this in my own home.” 

“Matteo…” I whisper, my brows creasing. 

“Shut up and let me finish.” He growls. “You’ve had your time and your turn to punish me, and I have taken your punishment like a man. Now, we need to sit and talk about the way out of this thing that is keeping us away from each other.” 

I roll my eyes, “and if I don’t want to talk?” 

“Then I will force you to. Meet me in my office in an hour’s time Mirabella.” He says, his tone holding command. “And don’t make me come to you myself or else, it’ll get messier than I imagined it.” 

“Fuck. You!” 

He chuckles amusingly. “You seem to read my mind so well, wife. But you have to be patient.” 

“Fuck you, Matteo!” I scream at his retreating back. 

His eyes meet mine from over his shoulder, his lips curving up into a smirk. “What did I say about patience, baby?” 

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