Hawaii welcomed Sean with a nearly flawless blue sky. The sea sparkled, a gentle salty breeze blew, and the beachfront villa he rented looked like something out of a high-end vacation brochure. Everything felt perfect, expensive, and should have been relaxing.
Moana seemed to be enjoying it all immensely.
She wore a thin ivory dress, touching her slightly rounded belly repeatedly as if to make sure the world knew she was pregnant. Her steps were light, her laughter loud. She talked about prenatal spas, romantic dinners, and photos she had to upload to make everyone jealous.
"Honey, when my belly gets bigger, I want us to go to Paris or Switzerland."
Sean nodded. He just smiled and replied briefly. "Okay."
"Are you enjoying this place?" asked Moana.
"Of course," Sean agreed.
However, his mind was far from Hawaii.
Clara's words, calm, cold, and controlled, kept spinning in his head.
"It's business, Honey."
Sean took a sip of his drink, but the bitter taste lingered on his tongue. He turned toward the sea, hoping the sound of the waves would wash away the image of his wife. But instead, Clara's face appeared even more clearly: her slight smile, the way she smoothed Sean's tie without trembling, and the tone of her voice when she mentioned the million dollars as if it were pocket change.
"One million dollars."
Sean didn't mind transferring it. Money could always be found. He had plenty of dollars in his account. What bothered him was... the possibility—very small but noisy—that Clara would actually do what she had said so casually.
"Hire a gigolo."
Sean's chest tightened. His jaw clenched. "Damn! Why do I keep thinking about Clara?"
He didn't want Clara to be touched by another man. He didn't want anyone else to enjoy what—in his opinion—was still his. That thought made him feel angry at himself. Wasn't he the one who let everything fall apart? Wasn't he the one who slept in Moana's apartment for two days and two nights without feeling guilty?
But ego is never logical.
******
*
******
Sean wanted everything at once: Clara's loyalty and Moana's adoration. He wanted Clara to continue loving him—or at least wanting him—while he was free to live his life with other women. He wanted to be the center of everyone's world.
"Honey?" Moana called Sean, then pulled him back to the villa.
Sean turned his head. Moana smiled, but her eyes scrutinized Sean closely.
"You've been distracted," Moana said as she sat down next to him. "This vacation is for us, for our baby."
Sean nodded quickly. "I'm just tired. The flight was exhausting."
Moana placed her hand on Sean's arm. "Are you tired or... are you actually thinking about your wife?" Her tone was sweet, but there was a sting behind it.
Sean was silent for a fraction of a second too long.
Moana snorted softly. "I'm pregnant, Sean. You need to be here with me. I should be on your mind, not that damn Clara!"
Sean took a breath. "I am here, aren't I?"
"But your mind isn't," Moana replied sharply. "Ever since we arrived, you've been like a confused person waiting for bad news."
Sean stood up and walked toward the large window facing the sea. The afternoon sunlight cast his shadow on the marble floor. He rubbed his face.
"I just don't want Clara do something that cause a trouble," he finally said.
Moana laughed briefly. "What trouble? She got the money. She should just be quiet and obedient."
Sean turned around. "You don't know her like I do."
Moana narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"She never says things lightly," Sean said softly. "If she says something, it means she's ready to do it."
Silence crept in.
Moana stood up and approached Sean. "Are you afraid she'll really hire another man?"
Sean didn't answer. His silence was his answer.
Moana smiled crookedly. "Could it be that you're jealous? Are you starting to like her?"
Those words slapped Sean's mind.
Sean snorted, annoyed. "I don't have those kinds of feelings!"
"I just don't want her to recklessly bring some random guy to our house and ruin the reputation of my company and my extended family!" the man argued.
"So? What do you want to do?" Moana challenged. "Do you want to go home? Or do you want to call Clara right now?"
Sean reached for his phone. His hand paused above the screen. Clara's name was there, neatly stored like an old wound that never truly healed.
He imagined Clara in that big house, alone, with her bank account suddenly swelling. He imagined Clara smiling at another man—not the fragile smile he was used to seeing, but a confident smile like the one from that morning.
Sean suddenly felt nauseous. He turned off the phone screen.
"No! I won't call her. I'm sure she still loves me as much as ever. She won't do anything."
Moana snorted again, then hugged her lover's stomach. "Remember, Sean. I'm carrying your child. Don't hurt my feelings just because you're thinking about that useless Clara."
Sean was silent. He seemed reluctant to talk to his girlfriend.
*
******
*
That night, they had dinner at an expensive restaurant with a view of the sea. Moana talked at length about the baby's name and their future. Sean listened while daydreaming, his mind busy weighing the worst possibilities that Clara might do.
Every laugh from Moana sounded off-key. Every candle flame felt too bright. Every second of the vacation that should have been sweet felt like a punishment.
Sean realized one thing that made his chest tight. He wasn't jealous because of love. He was jealous because of possession. He was afraid of losing Clara because of his ego.
And that realization turned the vacation in Hawaii—which was planned as an escape—into the most comfortable prison he had ever entered.
"Moana, let's go home right now!" Sean suddenly stood up and said firmly.