Yes, I want to see

The day our second child was born felt like a new beginning, yet it was marked by a significant change in me—I had lost my faith in God. After losing Aurora, I couldn't bring myself to step into a church again. Despite this, life moved on, and we did our best to embrace the joy that little Zia brought into our lives.

Zia was now three and a half years old, a bright and lively child who had begun to walk with tiny, unsteady steps. From the moment she could express herself, it was clear that Zia adored me. She clung to me whenever I was home, always wanting to be by my side. Her attachment was so strong that she rarely wanted to be with Arina. While most parents might have felt concern, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. My little girl loved her daddy more than anything, and it warmed my heart.

However, this intense bond with Zia often stirred tension between Arina and me. Arina, who had once been the center of our daughter's world, now found herself feeling sidelined. Sometimes, she would express her frustration, claiming that Zia only loved her dad. Although she said it jokingly, I knew there was a deeper undercurrent of hurt in her words.

One day, the tension erupted into a big fight. Arina was upset that I refused to take on any out-of-town projects because of Zia. She argued that we needed the income and that she could manage Zia just fine on her own. But I knew better. Zia's attachment to me was so strong that even the thought of being away from her caused me anxiety. I couldn't bear the idea of leaving her, not even for a day.

"Zoe, you're being overprotective! She's our daughter, too. You have to trust me to take care of her," Arina had shouted during the argument.

"It's not that I don't trust you, Arina. I just can't leave her. She needs me. I need her," I had replied, trying to make her understand.

"Zoe, you're not the only parent here. I'm her mother, and I love her just as much as you do. You're suffocating us with your constant presence."

The argument left us both drained, and though we made up later, the issue lingered between us like a shadow. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was doing the right thing by prioritizing Zia above all else, but it was clear that my decision was taking a toll on our marriage.

Two months had passed since Zia's birth, and life had settled into a routine of sorts, though the undercurrents of tension between Arina and me remained. Then, one night, I received a call that could have changed everything.

"Sorry, I can't do this," I said into the phone, my voice firm but tinged with regret.

Arina, who had been sitting beside me, looked up as I ended the call. Her eyes were full of questions. "What happened? Who was that?"

"They offered me a big project," I replied, trying to sound casual, though I knew this wasn't going to sit well with her.

"Okay... And you turned it down? Why?" she asked, her tone a mix of confusion and frustration.

"Because I can't take you and Zia with me, and I don't want to go to London without you two," I explained.

Arina's expression shifted from confusion to anger. "Zoe, this is really too much. Why aren't you taking your job seriously? You know opportunities like this don't come around every day. We can't keep living like this, turning down everything because you're afraid to leave us."

"Arina, it's not just about the job. I don't want to be away from you and Zia. I'll find something else. Don't worry, I'll manage everything," I said, trying to reassure her, but I knew my words weren't enough.

Without another word, Arina stood up abruptly and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. The sound echoed through the quiet house, and I was left sitting there, feeling the weight of our strained relationship pressing down on me.

I looked over at Zia, who was sleeping peacefully beside me, unaware of the turmoil between her parents. I sighed deeply and set my laptop aside. The work I had been doing felt meaningless in the face of the growing distance between Arina and me.

I needed to make this right.

I followed Arina to the balcony, where she was standing with her back to me, staring out into the night. The moonlight bathed her in a soft glow, but her posture was tense, her shoulders rigid with frustration.

I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her close. 

"Why are you so angry?" I asked softly, pressing a gentle kiss on her shoulder, trying to ease the tension between us.

Arina remained still, her back to me, before finally speaking, her voice laced with hurt. "Zoe, don't you trust me? Or... is it that you don't want to leave Zia with me?"

Her words caught me off guard. I hadn't expected her to question my trust in her as a mother. I stumbled over my words, trying to find the right response. 

"No, Arina, it's-it's not that... It's not about trust."

"Then what's the problem?" she demanded, turning to face me, her eyes searching mine for answers. 

I hesitated, my mind racing. I couldn't voice the doubts that had been gnawing at me, the whispers of rumors that had taken root despite my efforts to dismiss them. I believed in Arina, loved her deeply, but the shadows cast by Mrs. Roselia's words were hard to ignore. I wanted to see if there was any truth to the tales, to put my mind at ease.

Suddenly, Arina spoke, her voice soft yet piercing, "Do you want to see if there is really a witch or not?"

Her question hung in the air, heavy and foreboding. I felt my arms loosen around her as I turned her to face me. "What are you saying, Arina?"

A chilling gloom seemed to envelop us, the warm night air turning cold. Yet, Arina smiled at me sweetly, her eyes shimmering under the moonlight. She cupped my face in her cold, soft palms, her touch sending a shiver down my spine. She had always possessed an uncanny ability to read my thoughts, to see through the façades I put up.

"You can't lie to me, Zoe," she whispered, her gaze steady and knowing.

I sighed, realizing there was no point in hiding. Taking a deep breath, I confessed, "Yes, I want to see."