ADAM DADA'S VENGEANCE

CAN I HELP WITH THE BAGS

Adams sat motionless on the edge of the mattress, his head buried in his hands. His heart hammered violently against his ribs. Maya’s harsh, trembling words echoed through the silent bedroom, slicing through the lingering warmth of the night.

Without her consent.

The phrase tasted like ash in his mouth. He closed his eyes tightly, and instantly, the vivid memories of a few hours ago flashed behind his eyelids. He remembered the heat of her skin, her soft vagina swallowing his dick, the desperate grip of her fingers on his shoulders, and the way she had moaned so intensely under him in the pitch-black room. He remembered how her legs had flown into the air, wrapping tightly around his waist, and the breathless screams that had shattered the midnight quiet. It had felt so real. It had felt like passion, like a shared grief turning into a shared comfort.

But as he opened his eyes and looked at her now—shivering, clutching the duvet to her chin, her eyes wide with a mixture of betrayal and raw terror—a sickening realization settled deep in his stomach.

Their marriage wasn't normal. It was a contract.

A strictly negotiated, legally binding arrangement born out of convenience and mutual need. The core rule of that contract was simple, unyielding, and ironclad: No sex. They were supposed to use modern science, get a baby through IVF, endure each other’s presence for twenty-four months, and then quietly part ways.

By crossing that line, Adams felt a cold wave of guilt wash over him. He looked at Maya’s puffy, tear-stained face and realized the horrific truth. She had been exhausted, emotionally drained from the devastating clinic results, and heavily medicated from the residual hormone injections. She had been sleepy, deeply disoriented, and completely out of her right mind when she initiated those touches in the dark. She hadn't been processing reality. And he, driven by his own loneliness and a foolish desire to feel close to his wife, had let it happen.

He truly felt, with a crushing sense of shame, like he had taken advantage of her. He felt like he had had sex with her without her true consent.

"Maya..." Adams’ voice broke, thick with emotion. He held his hands up in a defensive, non-threatening gesture, his palms facing her. "Maya, please. Look at me. I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean to... I thought you were awake. I thought you wanted..."

"Don't speak to me!" she screamed, a harsh sob tearing from her throat. She pressed herself further back against the wooden headboard, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. "You knew the rules, Adams! You knew exactly what this marriage was! How could you do this to me while I was sleeping? How could you touch me?"

"I am so sorry, Maya. I swear to you, I feel sick to my stomach," Adams pleaded, his own tears finally spilling over. He stepped off the bed, keeping his distance, his body trembling with genuine remorse. "Please, let’s just sit down and talk about this. Let me explain. I will do whatever it takes to make this right."

"There is nothing to make right!" Maya yelled, her voice shaking with an unstable, frantic energy. She swung her legs out of the bed, dragging the sheet with her to cover her naked body as she stood up. "I can't stay in this room with you. I can't even look at you right now! I am leaving. I am packing my bags and leaving this house today!"

Panic flared in Adams' chest. If she walked out now, everything they had built, everything they had sacrificed for, would instantly crumble into dust. He had to stop her, not just for the contract, but because he couldn't let her run away in this state of mind.

"Maya, wait! You can't just leave!" Adams cried out, his voice rising in desperation as he tried to appeal to her logic. "Think about what you're saying! We have an agreement. We are meant to have a baby together and live under this roof for two years! We still have time left on our timeline. We can't just throw it all away over a terrible mistake!"

Maya spun around, her eyes flashing with a dangerous, white-hot anger. She gripped the sheet tightly against her chest, her knuckles turning white.

"An agreement?!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing off the walls. "You are the one who broke the contract, Adams! You broke the number one rule by sleeping with me! You violated our arrangement, and you violated me! Don't you dare stand there and lecture me about the rules when you are the one who destroyed them!"

While the bedroom upstairs was tearing apart at the seams, the rest of the house was quiet—but not empty. Downstairs in the hallway, two figures stood completely still, their heads tilted upward toward the ceiling.

Goliath and Grandma had been sipping their morning tea when the first muffled screams began. They had quietly crept closer to the grand staircase, listening intently to every single shout, every sob, and every harsh accusation vibrating through the floorboards.

For them, the bitter breakdown of Adams and Maya's marriage was pure music to their ears. First, the IVF had failed, and now, a massive, domestic war had broken out. It was the perfect storm.

Grandma clapped her wrinkled hands together in silent glee, a wide, malicious grin stretching across her face. "Do you hear that, Goliath? She’s yelling at him! She wants to leave!"

Goliath let out a deep, booming chuckle, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. He set his teacup down on the console table with a satisfying click. "Oh, this completely makes my day. Yesterday they were crying over a bunch of dead embryos, and today they are ripping each other's throats out. This is beautiful."

"She said he broke the rules," Grandma whispered eagerly, her eyes glittering with dark curiosity. "I don't care what rules they had, as long as it drives that arrogant girl out of this house for good!"

Just then, the heavy wooden door of the master bedroom flew open upstairs. Maya marched out onto the landing, her face pale, still wrapped tightly in a robe, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She began hurrying down the stairs, determined to get to the guest room to find her suitcases.

Adams followed closely behind her, his shirt half-unbuttoned, looking utterly frantic. "Maya, please! Just stop for one second! Let's talk about this rationally. We can fix this!"

"Get away from me, Adams! I don’t want to hear another word from your mouth!" she yelled back, not turning around as she descended the stairs.

Seeing the chaotic scene unfold in real-time, Goliath stepped forward into the foyer, his face a mask of false, patronizing sympathy. He looked up at Maya, a mocking glint in his eyes.

"My goodness, Maya, you look absolutely distraught," Goliath said, his voice dripping with fake concern as he walked toward the base of the stairs. He looked past her to flash Adams a smirk before focusing back on her. "If things are really that bad up there, you shouldn't have to endure another minute of it. Tell you what—I can explicitly offer to help you pack your stuffs. Just say the word, and I’ll load your bags right into the car myself."

"Shut up, Goliath!" Adams roared from the top of the stairs, his face flushing deep red with anger. "This has absolutely nothing to do with you! Stay out of our business and get out of our way!"

"I'm just trying to be a helpful, Adams," Goliath replied smoothly, raising his hands in mock innocence, though the nasty smile on his face gave him away. "If the lady wants to leave, a real gentleman helps her carry her things. Right, Grandma?"

Grandma nodded vigorously from the kitchen doorway, letting out a sharp, mocking chuckle. "That’s right! No use staying where you aren't wanted, girl! Pack it up!"

Maya didn't even acknowledge them. She was too consumed by her own internal storm. She stormed past Goliath, her bare feet slapping against the cold hardwood floor as she locked herself inside the guest room, slamming the door so hard the framed pictures on the wall rattled.

Adams stood on the stairs, his shoulders slumping as the heavy thud of the guest room door signaled his defeat. He felt entirely empty, drained of all his strength. He looked down at Goliath and Grandma, who were still standing in the hallway, openly gloating and whispering to each other like vultures waiting for a carcass.

"Are you two happy now?" Adams asked, his voice dropping into a low, exhausted whisper. "Does our pain really give you that much joy?"

Grandma just sniffed disdainfully, turning her back on him to walk back into the kitchen. Goliath gave a small, mocking shrug, picked up his teacup, and took a slow, deliberate sip.

"We didn't do anything, Adams," Goliath said, his voice filled with cruel satisfaction. "You two built this house of cards all by yourselves. Don't blame us just because it's finally blowing up in your faces."

Adams didn't answer. He turned around and slowly walked back up the stairs, each step feeling like a mile. He walked back into their messy bedroom. The body pillow was still lying crumpled on the floor. The sheets were tangled, a haunting reminder of the intense, passionate hours that had ultimately ruined everything.

He sat down on the edge of the empty bed, burying his face in his hands once more. The guilt weighed heavily on his chest. He knew he had a long, painful road ahead of him if he ever wanted to earn Maya’s trust back—if she even chose to give him the chance.