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We’re at the mall because she wanted to go shopping. I readily agreed, eager to get out of the house because I had nothing to do. However, I’m finding it hard to match her enthusiasm today. As I sift through the clothes, a thought of Damien intrudes unexpectedly. I don’t understand why his cold, stern eyes and commanding presence invade my thoughts at the most random moments. It's infuriating.
She notices my solemn demeanor. "How are you? Is that marriage of yours still as shitty as when it started?" she asks.
I let out a bitter laugh, running my fingers over the delicate fabric of the dress. "Terrible. I can't wait to get away from Jackson," I confess, my voice barely above a whisper.
Seraphina's smile fades as she turns to look at me, her voice full of concern. "You know, Isabella, you can't hide everything. I've seen the bruises."
My cheeks burn at her words, and my grip on the dress tightens.
"I can handle it," I say quickly with a defensive edge in my voice. I force a smile to deflect the worry in her eyes. "I just need to find a way out. Trust me, I’m working on it."
Shaking her head, she turns away, and we continue browsing the racks in silence. A few minutes later, she holds up a dress that catches my eye. It's a striking crimson number with delicate lace detailing and a plunging neckline.
"I think this one would look great on you," she suggests with a grin.
I pause as the dress captures my attention. "It's cute," I admit with a small smile, "But I'd never buy it."
As Seraphina plunges deeper into the throng of shoppers, I find myself trailing behind, merely a spectator in this shopping excursion she insisted we go on. Despite Jackson's countless admonishments to 'look the part' and his incessant demands that I spend his money, I've never relented. I refuse to spend a single dime of his money, much to his irritation. Sure, I'll put on the clothes he buys, the extravagant dresses and the exquisite jewelry, because I have to.
I'm trapped in this role he’s cast me in, but that's where I draw the line. Beyond that, I stick to what’s mine. The clothes I had transported over from my childhood home that now lie abandoned. I can feel their familiar fabric against my skin, a constant reminder of the freedom I once had. The memories, though painful, provide a sort of comfort. A reminder that I’m still me underneath all the charades and the façade.
Seraphina's voice pulls me from the abyss of my thoughts. "You're stronger than you realize, Isabella. Remember, I'm always here for you. I may not be Blackhart wealthy, but I am wealthy. I’ll help you get out."
Her words remind me of the strength I've been forced to cultivate, a bitter armor forged in the fires of my marriage. I give her a grateful nod and smile. This conversation has turned sad.
"So, enough about my disaster of a love life," I say, shifting the focus away from my own problems. "What about you? Any exciting romantic developments on the horizon?"
A blush creeps onto her cheeks, her eyes twinkling as she grins at me. "Well, since you've asked, there might be someone...," she says, her voice tinged with excitement.
I can't help but laugh at her enthusiasm. "Really? Tell me!"
“His name is Ethan," she begins, her face lighting up at the mention of his name. "He's kind, funny, and... he treats me with respect. It's a refreshing change from my previous relationships. You know how men in our world can be."
The happiness in her voice makes me smile despite my own troubles. "He sounds wonderful. I'm genuinely happy for you."
She grins back, and her spirit is infectious. "Thank you. It's the early days, but... it feels different. It feels right."
A pang of longing echoes in my chest as I used to wish for such simple happiness. However, I push it aside, focusing on my friend's joy. "That's good. Keep me posted, okay? And hey, maybe one day I'll get to meet this, Ethan."
"You'll be the first one to know. It's about time we had some good news around here," she promises with a nod.
Feeling her happiness wash over me, I can't help but feel a sense of relief for Seraphina. It's not often that women in our social circle find someone who treats them with kindness and respect. The sad reality of our world is that we women are mere objects in the grand scheme of things.
We’re paraded around, shown off when the men want us to be seen, and then shelved once they're done with us. They dictate to us. They tell us what to say, where to sit, how to act, and when to speak. It's not just unfair. It's downright demeaning.
The constricting societal norms, the expectations, the control, it's all too much sometimes. Though for now, I push those thoughts aside, focusing on the spark of hope that Seraphina's news has ignited. Maybe, just maybe, I'll find someone who treats me that way. That's if I ever get away from Jackson.
We shop for a few more hours, the store's fluorescent lighting illuminating Seraphina's excited face as she chatters away about Ethan. As the afternoon lingers into the evening, I finally decide to call it a day.
"Harrison," I instruct my driver when we exit the department store. "Take me to my house, please."
"Yes, Mrs. Blackhart," he acknowledges, his gaze steady on the road, and I cringe at my name.
The house, my real home, has sat vacant since the day I tied the knot with Jackson. Each time I visit, it's like stepping into a time capsule. Every room reminds me of simpler, happier times. I don't live here anymore, but I can't bear the thought of this place gathering dust or my family's possessions being neglected.
As we pull up to the modest residence, my heart aches with nostalgia. The front lawn, once a vibrant green, is now dull and overgrown, but the structure of the house stands firm, just as I remember. Inside, I start dusting the furniture, adjust old family photos, and check that everything is secure. The familiar routine brings a strange comfort, a whisper of normalcy in the chaos of my life.
I move from room to room, the rhythmic routine of cleaning soothing my frayed nerves. Then, a noise from my father's old office stops me in my tracks. My heart thuds in my chest. No one should be here. I haven't seen anyone in this house since the day of the wedding. I creep towards the door, my hand instinctively reaching for a letter opener lying on the hallway table. It's sharp and pointy, perfect to instill some fear.
