Chapter 7 Complicated relationships

Book:The Billionaire's Surrogate Published:2024-5-1

My beautiful wife is named Sophia Eliana Shenko though sometimes I call her Mia as in my cara mia. She had been my pillar and shield through some pretty rough moments of my life. I met her when I was eight. She emptied a bucket of ice cold water on me simple because I wouldn’t say sorry to another person I had offended; and we were eight. She threatened to boil the water next time I was a jerk. To be sure I get on her good side and never risk getting boiled alive, I made her my best friend for life. We became a weird duo of best friends that’s for sure. During our teenage years, she and I would pretend to be a gay duo and date same sexes who could be bisexual, in other to find the perfect match for each other.
Stupid! I know!
But it was a fun exercise that kept us both very engage in each others life. We were so close and attached to each other, so much so that we became each others perfect match unknowingly.
It all became clear to me on one drunken night. We’d both gone wrong on our dates, we got wasted, ran about the streets screaming profanities, and finally ended up inside an abandoned school which was supposedly haunted; we talked about our lives, our feelings, shared our deepest secrets and somewhere in there, we were so close to each other that we lost control and engaged in hot, passionate love making.
It was and still is by far the best night of my life.
The following morning, we agreed it was a mistake and should be forgotten. It was the hardest pretending after that night like I wasn’t six feet deep in love with my best friend. Fives awkward weeks later, we learned the hard way never to have sex in area where there was no reach for protection.
She was pregnant.
I loved her; I really did, but I wasn’t sure about wanting a child at the time. I was young and clueless. The only thing that had the most importance to me was the process of me, rising as a young successful businessman and a child I thought back then, would disrupt all that. I wasn’t ready to shoulder the responsibilities of being a father when I could barely be a man on my own. Heaven knows I loved my beautiful girl so much but that sacrifice, I wasn’t ready to take.
Seven years later that decision still hunted me. I never said anything, never told her about me not wanting or rather not being ready for a child. I had just distant myself from her and on her own she got the message.
She disappeared off my eyes for almost a year after she told me of her pregnancy. When she came back, she made it a dramatic comeback. She was beautiful, gorgeous if I may say. She was working on a career as a social media influencer, blogger and fashion critic.
She was chasing her dreams as strongly as I was chasing mine.
It took me only one look at her in the arms of another man to regret ever letting her go. I wanted her back; I got her back, but with that heavy burden we both have had to carry for the last seven years. I thought I would be contented with just her, but I wasn’t.
I wanted my own child. I worked so hard all my life for someone. I had no one but Sophia and my love was sufficient enough for her. She didn’t need me to spoil her with my wealth; plus she already had her own. I needed my child.
It was all my fault, I know, but she never let me take the blame for it. She never let me again take the blame for it; or anything else.
How things transpired was not something I wanted to discuss at that moment when she walked into our bedroom with marks of dried tears on her cheeks. She had cried more.
“Why?” she asked, her voiced a little croaky from crying.
“Why what?” I asked back not giving her a second look. Her vulnerability sickened me.
“Why are you trying to hurt me? Why are you doing this to me? Why would you bring her here?” even though sadness wreaked in her tone and the croakiness wasn’t doing justice to her voice, it still sounded so calm and poised.
“Aren’t you fucking tired already? Don’t you even look at yourself for a second and feel sorry Sophia? I cheated on you with a hooker, she’s pregnant and I’m bringing her here. Any woman in her right mind would freak out and break stuff or better break stuff on her husband’s head but you do nothing. No! you do stuff- like cry alone and come back here like all is fine. Sophia…” I wanted to say but stopped when she turned away to the window corner. She lifted up the vase that stood by the window high in the air then dropped it. It shattered to a million pieces.
“There! I broke something. Are you happy?” her voice grew an octave and a pitch high with every word. “I. broke. something. But it hasn’t fucking fixed anything. It never does.” she was now yelling, “I tried to shoved it all in but you don’t do anything to help but bring me more pain! You keep hurting over and over and i think i can endure because of my love for you but, I can’t! I cant take it anymore.” She dropped on her knees, digging her palms with her face.
It broke me. No! I couldn’t put myself between hurt or relieved.
This was not quite it but it was almost what I had been waiting from her all these years. For her to share her pain with me. Her pain shared made me feel like we were finally going somewhere with this relationship of ours. I was wrong!
The only place she was going was out of my life.
She got up, and started packing her bags.
“What are you doing?” I asked. She just continued to silently make her bags.
It was way worse than I had imagined it and I wasn’t liking it.
At all.