Chapter 3

3 Mia Lauren Hudson

There is a time for boldness and a time for caution, and the wise man knows the moment for each of them.

- Dead Poets Society

I was rehearsing vigorously and repeatedly what I would say to my husband.

“Hi, Bradley, can I go out today? I need to attend a meeting for a film consultant competing with yours.”

No, of course not. I couldn't say that. To tell the truth, nothing I could express would sound good to his ears, and I knew that in this case, I would hear things that would hurt me. The truth is that the simple act of asking left me with a knot in my stomach. With every word I formulated in my mind, a chill ran down my spine, reminding me of what was at stake.

But what a drag! It was almost three in the afternoon, and I was ready, staring at myself in the mirror. My bright, full, wavy blonde hair fell around my shoulders and bust, reflecting a beauty ideal I barely recognized. I had thought so many times about cutting it, dyeing it, changing something about myself that I felt was trapped. But Bradley never allowed me. He always said it was something unacceptable for a woman, and even more so for his woman, who carried his name with such pride.

A forced smile passed over my lips as I admired the reflection of my figure in the mirror. I wore a large winter coat over a warm pink blouse and jeans. And it took a lot of convincing for Bradley to finally accept that I wore jeans. It was unbearable to live in a skirt every time winter came, as if the freedom to wear something comfortable was a privilege I couldn't claim.

“Hi, Bradley.” I rehearsed again, trying to find the right tone. “Do you remember that dream I always told you about? I'm about to make it come true. Are you happy for me?” Then, frustratingly, I imagined the silence he would leave hanging in the air. A heavy, almost palpable silence that would crush any hope that still existed.

My parents would be so happy... Oh, how I wished my parents were with me. The longing tightened my chest, a weight that constantly reminded me of what I had lost. I wished so much that I hadn't been almost forced to marry a man I didn't love that much at the time. Now, however, my love for him was growing like a plant seeking light, even though he showed me barely the slightest affection. If I could just have one chance... One single chance to be happy, I wouldn't have sworn such a thing to my mother while she was between life and death. Nor to my father, who left me eight days later.

Then I started to tremble; I didn't know if it was the cold outside or my turbulent thoughts causing this shiver. These thoughts I tried so hard to avoid crept into my mind like shadows on a cloudy day. The memory of moments when Bradley helped me felt distant, like a blurred image I couldn't reach. But if there had been a single moment like that, it was like a dream I couldn't remember.

I noticed that the corners of my eyes were wet, and I couldn't cry. If I cried, I wouldn't be able to stop, and I was supposed to be happy. I had to be happy. I had to fight to be happy, even when everything seemed so dark. And with that thought, looking into my greenish eyes that contained a silvery glint almost leaning towards blue, I realized I still had a little courage left. That courage led me to the office where Bradley had locked himself away since he woke up, as if he were fleeing from me, from the world, from us.

I took a deep breath, asking that my courage not waver. I asked that he understand I was just his wife. I wasn't his property, even though I wanted him to call me his, but out of pride and not status. The dilemma of wanting to be his while not giving up on myself weighed on my heart.

With trembling hands, I knocked on the dark wood of the door. The sound echoed down the hall, and anxiety grew inside me like a storm about to break. I heard him whispering on the phone, his words cutting through the silence of the room. I didn't want to interrupt him, but at the same time, I felt this might be the only opportunity I had to express my desire. Time was running out, and every passing second took me further away from what I truly wanted.

“Bradley?” I called, my voice coming out almost as a whisper, as if I already knew what was about to happen.

I heard when silence returned, heavy and oppressive, and I could almost hear when he huffed, a sound that seemed to carry all the frustration I felt.

“Come in.” His incredibly deep voice made me even more nervous, an order disguised as an invitation that reverberated in my chest.

I ran my hands over my clothes, trying to smooth the fabric, and closed the dark coat after turning the doorknob, as if that could protect me from the icy atmosphere that settled between us. With my lips already dry and the cold creeping down my spine, I found my husband behind his desk, surrounded by papers that seemed to carry the weight of all our disagreements. His gaze lifted to me, and his brow arched as he examined me from head to toe, as if he were evaluating what had changed in me since the last time we met.

I did the same, trying to guess which version of my husband was present that day. He wore a long-sleeved white shirt, his long dark brown hair was tousled, as if he had been awake all night, and his eyes, squinted and almost black, watched me with an intensity that made me uneasy. The stubble and his tight lips only amplified the aura of discontent surrounding him.

“Where are you going?” His voice made my legs go weak, as if each word were a weight pulling me down.

“I... um...” What was I going to say? I stood at the door, like a child being called to attention, not knowing how to defend myself.

Bradley rolled his eyes, a gesture that spoke more than a thousand words, and returned his gaze to the sheets on his desk, as if I were an idiot wanting attention from my husband. Yeah, maybe I was. But I didn't want to be that.

“I’m going out.” The tremor in my voice finally escaped, breaking the silence and revealing the vulnerability I was trying to hide.

I watched the slow way he abandoned the papers and lifted his eyes, the very ones I had once fallen hopelessly in love with. And if he helped me, it would be like that forever. But with each passing day, I found myself weary, lost and trying to find a place where I could rest my heart.

“Going?” A short, ironic smile appeared at the corner of his lip, and I felt the anger rising within me.

“I am.” I wet my lips and took a tiny step forward, as if I were challenging his massive presence. “I know you don't like it when I go out, especially on weekends, but I...”

He raised an eyebrow, a sign of disdain that only fueled my determination.

“I need to meet Kayla.”

What? I had to meet Kayla? Actually, I had no idea where Kayla was. But if I knew my friend well enough, she would drop everything to help me. And she had tried so hard to help me, even from Bradley. She hated him, and he returned that sentiment.

“You’re not going.” His voice was firm, and he stood up from the chair, his imposing height making me feel even smaller in front of him, a giant like Goliath. “I can't stand that bitch, and you’re not going out with her.”

Anger seemed to bubble up inside me, a heat contrasting with the cold that dominated the atmosphere. I hated when he forbade me from doing something, and I detested when he spoke about my friend. But I understood that the fault was mine. Kayla wasn't involved in this, and I had put her name at stake. I’m sorry, my friend... I mentally pleaded, but the resolution in my heart grew.

But I knew I would have to sacrifice many things for my dream, and I would. I would go to places Bradley never thought he would find me, if that meant achieving my goal. There was a part of Mia Lauren he didn’t know. There was a part of me I hid, but I knew well the moment to let it all go and allow myself. To believe in myself.

“She could come here, but you prohibited her.” I set aside my fear and welcomed the courage that burned in my chest. “And she doesn't come here because I don't want you to fight, because she doesn't like you either, Bradley.”

My husband's face looked incredulous, as if seeing me for the first time, fearless and ready to face the storm he represented.

“Another reason for you not to go.” He shoved his hands in his pants pockets, a gesture indicating he was ready to close off and defend himself. “I don't want anyone filling your head with negative thoughts about me.”

“And you don't need to.” I crossed my arms, feeling determination growing inside me. “I know you well enough; I know who you are.”

Bradley opened his mouth as if he wanted to interrupt me, but I wasn't going to let that happen. See? I’m not that unprepared girl you keep insisting on reminding me of, I thought of adding.

“That lipstick looks ridiculous.” He stared deep into my eyes, and the criticism in his voice made my stomach churn.

What? The confusion hit me, and I found myself speechless again. My lipstick was pink, a color I liked to wear; all the women had color on their lips, not some expensive, sticky gloss that Bradley had bought for me. He had never told me I was beautiful, not since he got what he wanted. But it hurt not to hear a compliment from him, and when he spoke, it was only criticism, things like that, and my only way out was to believe. To believe in the worst part of myself that he showed me.

"And you won't." He walked towards the door, as if ending the discussion.

No! I wasn’t going to stay in that hell when a paradise awaited me at five o’clock.

"I will." I said, with courage, placing myself in front of him in the hallway, like a barrier between what I wanted and the oppressive reality he represented.

Bradley’s eyes widened; I almost saw him clench his fists. A fear hit me deeply, but I didn’t let it show.

“If you go…”

“What will you do?” I asked, shrugging and stepping away from him. His breath, his scent, his eyes still unsettled me, but I wasn’t going to give in. “Are you going to hit me?”

Bradley gritted his jaw, the tension in the air was palpable.

“Alright, Bradley.” I said, my voice firm. “Your words and how you treat me hurt more than that. But I’m going.”

Then I strode down the stairs, each step echoing my determination. I opened the door and stepped out. The cold almost extinguished the fire and anger that burned within me, but I wouldn’t let it shake me. I took my phone out of my back pocket and called my friend, really called Kayla, the only one who had always been by my side.

“Kayla?” I whispered when she answered, feeling a wave of relief.

“Hi, Lauren.” Her voice was cheerful, like a ray of sunshine in the darkness. “Have you given up on that stupid idea of changing that son of a bitch?”

“Almost.” I said, not recognizing myself in that moment. “Almost.”