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What was the point anyways?
I was not being a wife to Elias. And if it was up to me it would continue this way. Us leading our life separate from each other as I waited out the storm that was brewing on the other side of town.
Then when Ilya’s son was no longer a threat, we would divorce, and I would run far away; never to see this country again.
***
The next morning, Elias’ side of the bed was still made. My nose flared at his blatant disregard for our vows. He didn’t even sleep next to his wife.
I shouldn’t be so worked up. There should be a gladness in that he respected me so much that he chose not to bring his sullied dick to our marital bed.
However, that gladness that I spoke of was non-existent. I didn’t want him to ever leave my bed to find comfort in another woman’s arms.
That’s not how a husband behaved but who was I? There was nothing special about me. Made men did what and who they wanted.
Walking, more like stomping, I went to the kitchen ready to stuff my feelings down. They were irrational.
Abruptly, I stopped causing Jason to bump into me and my husband to look at us.
Jason quickly stepped away with the sharpening of Elias glare, leaving me in the room alone with my husband.
“M-m-morning,” I said, holding my head down as I walked to the fridge.
He was wearing a different suit than what he wore last night. That much I saw as he sat at the counter, a paper in his hand as he sipped what I presumed was coffee.
“Good morning… How did you sleep?” His deep voice said, echoing in the large state-of-the-art kitchen.
The gall of him.
Opening, the fridge, I just stared, my eyes unable to focus, to decide on what I wanted to eat when my husband was mocking me.
“I slept fine, did you?” I said sharply.
“I didn’t.”
“Good,” I muttered, not intending for him to hear but he did somehow because when I looked up, he was staring at me amused like a master whose puppy did a trick for him.
I wanted to scream “what” at him, but I knew better. That would leave me with a black eye. He already gave me a pass for the snarky attitude. I didn’t need to push it.
“Did I do something to upset you, my sweet wife?” he asked closing the newspaper and placing it on the island, his full attention on me.
I quickly shook my head, “No". The memory of Ilya haunted me to remind me of my place.
He tsked and stood up, walking to me slowly like he was afraid I would run. And I did. I wanted to run and never look back but alas all I could do was walk backward until my back hit the counter, prohibiting me from going any further.
When the tip of his shoes, hit my naked toes, I closed my eyes tightly, anticipating the blow.
It never came.
“Open your eyes,” he demanded softly.
I did slowly, my body shaking at how close our bodies were together and my eyes immediately darting to his supernaturally dark eyes.
“I would never hit you, Mia. Never,” he said, lightly tracing my cheek with his index finger, my lips shuddered, “Now, what are you so displeased about?”
“You didn’t come home last night,” I said faintly, lowering my head, surprised I said the words with no stutter given how my chest was heaving.
At my words, a glint formed in his eyes, the corner of his lips lifting slightly.
