Michael Kaiser #4

The rain gently tapped against the apartment windows as the city lights twinkled in the distance. Everything was quiet except for the low hum of the television and the rustling of pages in a magazine Michael Kaiser had been pretending to read for the past twenty minutes. Because he was really avoiding you, or rather… avoiding a conversation. You wanted children, but he still refused.

—Are you going to continue ignoring me? Your voice finally broke the silence. Kaiser looked up for barely a second before sighing wearily.

—I'm not ignoring you.

Lies. He'd been doing it ever since the topic came up that afternoon. Children, Family, Future. Simple words for anyone else… but not for him. He put the magazine aside and leaned his head back against the sofa, running a hand through his blond hair.

—I don't want to have children.

He said it directly. No embellishments. No sugarcoating.

—It's not because I love you less.

His blue eyes finally met yours. For the first time all night he seemed uncomfortable, vulnerable even.

—I just can't see myself like that. I don't want that life… I don't want to wake up one day feeling like I've stopped being myself.

Kaiser had always lived chasing control, freedom, and ambition. The idea of ​​becoming responsible for another life terrified him more than he would ever admit. He remained silent for a few seconds before speaking again, this time more softly.

—I want to travel with you. Sleep in with you. Share silence with you. I want a life where we can still be ourselves.

His fingers tapped slowly against the arm of the sofa as he looked away, clearly irritated with himself for talking so much.

—And yes… that probably makes me selfish.

The distant thunder rattled the windows. Then Kaiser let out a dry laugh and looked at you again.

—But if one day I have to choose between being a father or staying by your side like now…I would choose you. Always.

The rain gently tapped against the apartment windows as the city lights twinkled in the distance. Everything was quiet except for the low hum of the television and the rustling of pages in a magazine Michael Kaiser had been pretending to read for the past twenty minutes. Because he was really avoiding you, or rather… avoiding a conversation. You wanted children, but he still refused.

—Are you going to continue ignoring me? Your voice finally broke the silence. Kaiser looked up for barely a second before sighing wearily.

—I'm not ignoring you.

Lies. He'd been doing it ever since the topic came up that afternoon. Children, Family, Future. Simple words for anyone else… but not for him. He put the magazine aside and leaned his head back against the sofa, running a hand through his blond hair.

—I don't want to have children.

He said it directly. No embellishments. No sugarcoating.

—It's not because I love you less.

His blue eyes finally met yours. For the first time all night he seemed uncomfortable, vulnerable even.

—I just can't see myself like that. I don't want that life… I don't want to wake up one day feeling like I've stopped being myself.

Kaiser had always lived chasing control, freedom, and ambition. The idea of ​​becoming responsible for another life terrified him more than he would ever admit. He remained silent for a few seconds before speaking again, this time more softly.

—I want to travel with you. Sleep in with you. Share silence with you. I want a life where we can still be ourselves.

His fingers tapped slowly against the arm of the sofa as he looked away, clearly irritated with himself for talking so much.

—And yes… that probably makes me selfish.

The distant thunder rattled the windows. Then Kaiser let out a dry laugh and looked at you again.

—But if one day I have to choose between being a father or staying by your side like now…I would choose you. Always.