Chapter Six:Love's Revival

The dimly lit bar was Bryan's refuge that fateful night, a place where the amber liquid flowed like a river of forgetfulness, and his sorrows drowned in its depths.

He stumbled back home, his footsteps echoing through the silence like a death knell,

his eyes glassy and unfocused, his words slurred and indistinguishable.

Alexia had never seen him in such a state, his usual swagger reduced to a mere stagger, his dignity lost in the haze of alcohol.

"My life is such a mess, right, my beloved wife?"

Bryan slurred,

his voice cracking with despair.

"I'm not loved by anyone... or maybe I'm loved by a few, my parents and sister... but even my wife doesn't love me."

He burped, the pungent smell of whiskey filling

Bryan's incoherent mutterings filled the air, a jumbled mix of slurred words and unintelligible sounds that seemed to escape his lips without his consent.

His body trembled like a leaf, his eyes unfocused, as he struggled to maintain his balance.

The whiskey-fueled haze had consumed him, reducing him to a mere shadow of his former self.

He stumbled, his legs buckling beneath him, and Alexia rushed to his side, her hands grasping for his arms to steady him.

But it was too late. A violent heave racked his body, and he vomited, the contents of his stomach spilling onto the floor with a sickening splash.

The stench of alcohol and bile filled the air, making Alexia's stomach churn with a mix of disgust and pity.

The scene repeated itself, Bryan's body wracked by wave after wave of nausea, each episode leaving him weaker and more spent than the last.

Alexia held him,

her arms encircling his waist, her hands stroking his hair, as she tried to comfort him, to will him back to sobriety.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Alexia and Churchill managed to coax Bryan upstairs, his limp body swaying like a rag doll between them.

They laid him on the bed, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths.

Alexia's hands trembled as she removed his soiled clothes, her fingers brushing against his clammy skin.

As she settled him under the covers, a wave of self-reproach washed over her. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was responsible for his downfall,

that her inability to love him had driven him to this state.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she gazed upon his pale face, her heart heavy with regret.

"Why couldn't I love him enough?" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. "Why couldn't he be enough for me?"

Churchill's gentle touch on her shoulder broke the spell, and Alexia.turned to him, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I'll stay with him for a while,"

he said softly.

"You go take care of yourself,clean yourself up,and have a little rest Alexia,This isn't your fault."

But Alexia knew that Churchill's words were only meant to comfort her. Deep down, she knew that she bore a share of the blame for Bryan's broken state.

And that knowledge gnawed at her like a festering wound against his clammy skin, and her heart ached with a mix of pity and responsibility.

She went into the bathroom took her bath and dressed up in her nightie.

She went to Rachel's room and laid beside her,but sleep eluded her, her mind racing with ways to salvage their relationship, despite the absence of love.

She went back to there room.

''Churchill,you can go I will take it from here,''

She tells Churchill who obilged.

And at that time,Bryan was fast at sleep.

The next morning, Bryan surprised her with a breakfast tray, his smile radiant as the sun streaming through the windows.

"How are you this morning, my Queen?" he asked, his voice dripping with tenderness, as he stood by there bedside like a devoted knight.

Alexia played along, her response laced with a hint of humor,

"I'm good, my lord."

When she was done eating,she went downstairs,

As she descended the stairs, the silence was palpable, Churchill and Rachel's absence a stark reminder of the previous day's events.

The clock on the wall taunted her, its hands ticking away, revealing the late hour of 11am.

Alexia hastened to the bathroom, intent on washing away the remnants of the night,

but Bryan intercepted her, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint.

"Let's stay home today, babe. We've not been spending time together lately. Let's have our bath together."

Alexia and Bryan indulged in a leisurely shower, their laughter echoing off the tiles like a symphony of joy.

"Babe, you were so wasted last night, I'm surprised to see you this way this morning, so energetic!"

Alexia teased, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Yeah, you have a super-man as a husband, my love,"

Bryan replied, his grin widening as they showered together, their bodies swaying to the rhythm of their happiness.

When they finished, they dressed and Alexia lifted the Chess board, her eyes gleaming with a challenge.

"Chess, anyone?"

Looking around, pretending like there was other people aside Bryan

.

her voice husky and confident.

''Me,''

He replied with a calm voice.

As they played, they recalled the old times, their laughter and banter filling the air.

"Cry, cry, baby!"

Alexia teased, her voice echoing the taunt she had used 20 years ago, when they first started playing Chess at the tender age.

In a flashback,little Bryan, chubby and cherubic, ran out of Alexia's room, tears streaming down his face.

"Alexia.. Alexia... said she's better than me! She beat me in the Chess game! Am I a loser, mum?"

His parents, who had come over for dinner, laughed at his distress, as did Mr. Martin, Alexia's father.

But when they got home, Bryan's father was far from amused. He scolded Bryan, his voice stern and disapproving.

"So you allowed that girl to get the best of you? Sit up, you're my heir,she's just 8!and you..and you are 10,

you have to be strong! You're a man!"

He dragged Bryan's ear, his grip firm, and Bryan winced in pain.

"You will play Chess every day with me until you get way better than Alexia! Do you understand?"

Bryan nodded, tears still streaming down his face, and his father's words became a daily mantra, a constant reminder that he had to be better, stronger, and more powerful.

in the present, They played happily with Alexia losing over and over again,

''i guess cry,cry baby is way better now,''

Bryan says jokingly and they both laughed.

As they savored snacks and basked in each other's company,

the hours melted away like ice cream on a summer's day.

Alexia found herself surrendering to the moment, her heart softening, and her resolve weakening.

She was prepared to love him, to embrace this fragile bond they shared.

Bryan's joy was palpable,

his smile a ray of sunshine that brightened the entire room,

filling Alexia's heart with a sense of belonging and happiness.

************

Alfred's thoughts swirled like a maelstrom as he sat in his apartment, his fingers absently twirling his beard like a nervous habit.

The weight of his feelings for Alexia threatened to consume him, but he knew he had to resist. He couldn't keep indulging in this secret longing; it was time to erect boundaries and respect her commitment.

As he spun around in his chair, his gaze landed on Sophie's card, which he had left on his desk earlier. Her name and number seemed to stare back at him, a beacon of hope.

Maybe,

just maybe, she could help him distract himself from these unwanted emotions.

He picked up the card, his thumb tracing the embossed letters as he contemplated his next move.

The soft hum of his computer and the gentle rustle of papers in his mini home office created a sense of calm, a refuge from the turmoil brewing inside him

He called the number, and she picked up at once, her sultry voice purring through the phone like a contented cat.

"Hey, baby boy, I knew you would call me."

Alfred's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mind racing with questions.

"I can't remember giving you my number. How did you get it?"

he asked, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity and a dash of wariness.

"Well... I have my ways, baby boy,"

she said, her voice trailing off as she bit her lip, the soft smacking sound sending a shiver down Alfred's spine.

"Can we meet up for... maybe lunch?"

Alfred asked, his voice hesitant but hopeful.

Sophie agreed at once, without even checking her schedule, her enthusiasm evident in her swift response.

"I'd love to, baby boy!"

They met at a fancy restaurant, the kind with crisp white tablecloths and sparkling crystal chandeliers.

Alfred sent a sleek black car to pick her up,

and she was handed a stunning bouquet of flowers,

their sweet fragrance filling the air.

She felt like royalty as she entered the restaurant, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on Alfred, already seated at their table.

He stood up immediately, his chivalrous gesture making her heart skip a beat, and pulled out her chair with a gentle smile.

Sophie felt like a queen, her thoughts whispering,

"Throwing yourself at a man isn't a bad idea after all..."

The waiter arrived, and Sophie turned to Alfred with a playful smile.

"Babe, I'll have whatever you're having," she said, her voice husky and confident.

Alfred's response was laced with a hint of surprise, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Isn't that too sudden, babe? We'll have the steak,"

he said to the waiter, his tone a tad awkward.

Sophie didn't bat an eyelid, her poise unwavering, while Alfred couldn't help but wonder what kind of woman he was dealing with.

Her carefree attitude and forwardness left him intrigued, his mind racing with questions.