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violently grabbed James Burton and punched him in his face, sending the ad executive sprawling across the table. Glass shattered. Cutlery bounced on the floor. Somewhere a woman screamed. ‘Kyle,’ Angelique shouted. ‘How could you?’
    ‘How could I, Angelique?’ He pointed an accusing finger at her. ‘How the fuck could you ?’ He had given her a murderous stare and exited, pushing restaurant staff out of his way.
    For the next week, Kyle had lodged in a small guesthouse close to Davis Corke. Fuming. He had thrown himself into his work and refused to take any calls from Angelique. Even when she had turned up at work, he had managed to avoid her by taking an early lunch.
    However, in the course of that week, his burning love for his wife had triumphed. And by that weekend, he had made a momentous decision. He had decided to forgive her. To put everything behind him. And move on.
    That night he left work early and returned to his house. And waited for her. But she never arrived. Eventually he phoned her. Expecting obsequiousness. And pleas for forgiveness. Whatever the case, he loved her. And wanted his wife back.
    Angelique did apologise. But not in the way he expected. ‘I’m sorry Kyle,’ Angelique said coolly and calmly. ‘I want to be with James. I’ve decided. We want to get married.’ He had been shocked into silence. Feeling his whole entire world implode. ‘I’m sorry Kyle. But I can’t ignore my feelings. Please forgive me.’ She had then reminded him of their promise. To always be truthful and honest with each other. She then informed him that she would be moving out. And seeking a divorce. And then she had killed the call.
    This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang. But with a whimper.
    That night Kyle had cried until no more tears would come.
    A few weeks later, he heard someone at work mention his wife’s name. The person had whispered something about a rumour. In a catatonic rage, Kyle had accosted the junior account executive. Throwing him bodily against a wall and nearly strangling him. ‘What are you saying?’ Kyle screamed at the terrified youngster. ‘What the hell are you saying?’
    And then it came out. How could such few words bring such unbearable agony? There was a rumour. Angelique was pregnant. With Burton’s child.
    And there it was.
    The final insult. The final nail in the coffin.
    Despite repeated attempts over the years, they had never been able to bear a child. Again and again they had tried. But nothing. Eventually they had sought help. And with it came a crushing finality. Kyle was infertile.
    And there it was.
    Kyle had suggested adoption. Angelique had agreed. Without much enthusiasm. But things had never gone any further. And they had left it there. And never discussed it again. He should have known. Now she was bearing another man’s child. Her future. Her destiny. Would be forged by another man. She would grow old with another. And love and cherish the offspring of another. The thought was too much to bear.
    And that was when Kyle went off the rails. Good and proper.
    He neglected his work. His hygiene. His friends. Everything. Except for a traumatic incident in his childhood, this was the most devastating setback he had ever suffered.
    In a fit of self-loathing, he had taken leave and booked himself into a sleazy Hillbrow hotel for almost two weeks. Doing all the drugs and booze that he could possibly cram into his body. At the end of his binge, he returned to his home. And his work. But things were never the same again. Something precious and brittle had snapped within his psyche. The old Kyle had died. And someone cynical and bitter had taken his place.
    Now, as Kyle sat amongst the rubble of his life, smoking a quiet cigarette in a dirty and dishevelled mansion in Bryanston, Kyle recalled that terrible night at the restaurant when his life had shattered into a million little irreparable pieces.
    He thought again of the call that had initiated everything.