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“Then why the fuck would you propose?” I don’t usually swear. Stan doesn’t like it. He wants a proper, ladylike bride. Someone well bred. On the surface I am both of those things. My mother paid good money for finishing school tuition to make me socially acceptable.
“I thought I could make it work with you. But look at this place. Look at yourself. You’re not ready to be a wife. The dishes haven’t been done in three days.”
I look around, wondering if the man knows he has hands. Stan has always been a bit of an asshole, but he is very charming, and everybody tells us that we look good together.
“That’s because I’m preparing for our wedding. Remember?”
“That’s no excuse. We’ve discussed this. You are responsible for the state of our home, and frankly, you’ve always been less than capable. It’s the most basic thing, Lyssa, and you don’t do it. You’re lazy, and I deserve someone who wants to take pride in our marriage, and our home.”
I don’t know what to say, so I revert to basic facts.
“We are supposed to be married in six days.”
“I’m going to stay with Marjorie.”
“Who is Marjorie?”
He doesn’t answer, but as luck would have it, the question answers itself almost immediately. There’s a perky tap at the door, and then it opens without anybody answering.
“Are you ready, sweetheart?”
Marjorie, it turns out, is a pretty girl ten years younger than me with a little dog, who apparently already knows our dog, Fido, by the way Fido responds with excitement, bounding about with shaggy joy, unable to understand that his betrayal most of all is what will later break me completely.
I watch this girl walk into our apartment, ignore me completely, kiss my fiancé on the cheek and tell him that she has his favorite meal ready.
She doesn’t seem to know I’m here. She doesn’t seem to notice the wedding invitations with Stan and Lyssa written on them. She demonstrates zero situational awareness. I stare at her, mouth open. I am not sure what to do. There’s some old feral part of me that’s telling me to do something awful, but I’m paralyzed by propriety and shock alike. What do you say when something like this happens without warning?
Stan picks up the bag he’s packed. Apparently, I also have zero situational awareness.
“I’ll be back for the rest of my things later,” he says, sliding an arm around her waist. They walk out of the apartment as if everything is completely normal and acceptable, making it seem so reasonable that it takes me a good hour of sitting shocked and numb to realize that I just got fucked.
And then I get angry.
Back in Manik’s arms…
“A man made me wild.”
“Oh, no. I think you were born wild. Your world might have tamed you, but this part of you has always been there. You can’t be what you’re not.”
“Maybe that’s true. Maybe that’s not. But trust me, you can’t hold onto me forever. Eventually, you’re going to let me go, and eventually, you’re going to be souped again.”
He laughs, a deep rumble that runs right through me. “I have no doubt that you will make my life difficult, Lyssa.”
He snugs me tighter still, and I feel his hard rod pressed against me.
A little snort escapes me. Suddenly, I find myself laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“My fiancé left me six days before we were supposed to be married.”
“Hilarious,” he deadpans.
“Can you imagine me married?”
“… No,” he says after a brief thought.
“Stan couldn’t either, apparently. At the time, I thought he was the biggest asshole ever to ass. But now, I wonder if he just saw something in me.”
