Six | Love?

                                        

                                              

                                

                                    
                                
                                  
                                      
                                  
                                  
                                    
                                      
                                      
                                    
                                  
                                 
                                
                                
                              
                              
I stop leaning against the side of the car when I see Inayat come out of the airport. I smile but she doesn't. I don't think she sees me. If anything my wife looks more lost than before. 
She almost walks past me. "Inayat?" I call out. She flinches before turning around. That's when she finally notices me. "H-Harold. Hey." 
I smile the tiniest fucking smile I can muster. "Hello darling." I take her suitcase from her, mindful to not touch her. "How was your trip?" She nods. "It was okay." Then why does she look so lost? 
I open her door for her and round the car to take my seat. The drive was quiet until halfway through she opened her mouth. "If I weren't the way I am, would you have loved me?" 
I keep my hold on the wheel tight to make sure I don't lose it. "Where is this coming from?" 
"Just answer the question Harold." 
"I don't know. I don't think I have it in me to fall in love, darling. It has nothing to do with who you are and everything to do with who I am. I care about you more than anything I've ever cared about and I would do anything for you. But-"
"But you will not do all that out of love for me but out of obligation as my husband."
"That's not what I m-"
"It's okay. I'm not upset. I'm not anything. I just wanted to know for sure where we stand. Now I do."
"Inayat-"
"You should focus on the road Harold." That's the coldest way anyone has ever said my name. Even my father said it with less ice. 
~~~~~~
The scotch burns the back of my throat. The decanter almost empty. I didn't find it full anyway. I'm sure my father drank some of it, or maybe it was my mother. I don't think she drinks that much but I didn't know she took weed either. 
"Rough day?" I don't turn. Cassandra maybe a house helper's daughter, but she and I grew up together. We weren't particularly close but we weren't that farther apart either. We were friends. To some extent at least. 
"Rough life." I say before emptying my glass and pouring whatever is left of the scotch in. She comes to sit beside me as we both look out our window to the surrounding trees. It's quiet, so fucking quiet. 
"What are you thinking about?" I don't know Cassandra. Probably how to ease my wife's problems. Why is it so hard to love someone? 
"Do you remember how I was as a kid?" I ask her instead and don't wait for an answer. "I used to get attached to everything. I used to love everything. When my father told me to do something I would put my life on the line to do it. 
I wanted to be loved by him so terribly. Even when I went to college and was an absolute fuck boy with daddy issues, I gave my all to anyone I met. I loved so easily but then, then it all went down the drain."