Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Mia Lauren Hudson

"There is a time for daring and a time for caution, and a wise man knows which is called for."

- Dead Poets Society

I had been practicing over and over with determination what I would say to my husband.

"Hi, Bradley, would you allow me to 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. Honestly, nothing I could say would sound right to him, and in such a case, I knew I would hear things that would hurt me.

What a hassle! It was already almost three in the afternoon, and I stood ready in front of the mirror. My bright blonde, thick, wavy hair cascaded over my shoulders and chest. I’d thought so many times about cutting it, dyeing it, but Bradley had never allowed it. He said it was unacceptable for a woman, especially his wife, who bore his name. A forced smile crept across my lips as I resumed admiring my reflection in the mirror.

I was wearing a large winter coat over a pink blouse made of warm fabric and jeans. It had taken plenty of persuasion for Bradley to let me wear jeans. Living in skirts every winter was unbearable.

"Hi, Bradley." I resumed practicing. "Do you remember that dream I always told you about? I’m about to achieve it. Aren’t you happy for me?"

Then, in frustration, I imagined the silence he would leave hanging in the air.

My parents would have been so happy...

Oh, how I wished my parents were still with me. I wished I hadn’t almost been forced to marry a man I barely loved at the time—and whom I now loved, though not even a sliver of affection was returned to me. If only I’d had one chance—just one—I wouldn’t have sworn such a thing to my mother while she lay between life and death. Nor would I have promised the same to my father, who left me eight days later.

I began trembling—I couldn’t tell whether it was the cold outside or my thoughts causing it. Thoughts I so desperately tried to avoid, trying to focus only on the good moments. But there weren’t any—at least none where Bradley was by my side.

I noticed the corners of my eyes were damp, but I couldn’t cry. If I started, I wouldn’t stop, and I was supposed to be happy. I have to be happy. I have to fight to be happy. With that thought, I stared into my lifeless green eyes, tinged with silvery blue, and gathered my courage. I headed to Bradley’s office, where he had locked himself since waking up an hour earlier.

I took a deep breath and begged my courage not to falter. I prayed he would understand that he was just my husband—I wasn’t his property. Though I did secretly wish he would call me his, but for pride, not status.

With trembling hands, I knocked on the dark wooden door. I heard him murmuring into the phone. I didn’t want to interrupt and thought this was an excellent opportunity to ensure things didn’t drag on.

"Bradley?" I called.

The murmuring ceased, and I almost heard the sigh he let out.

"Come in." His incredibly deep voice only made me more nervous.

I smoothed my clothes and buttoned my dark coat before turning the handle. My lips were dry, and a chill ran down my spine as I found my husband behind his desk. His eyes rose to meet mine, along with his arched brow as he looked me over from head to toe.

I did the same, trying to guess which version of my husband I was facing that day. He was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt; his long, dark brown hair was tousled; his deep blue eyes, almost black, squinted; his beard was unkempt; his lips were pressed together.

"Where are you going?" His voice made my knees feel weak.

"I... Uh..." What was I going to say? I stood frozen in the doorway like a child.

Bradley rolled his eyes and turned his gaze back to the papers on his desk as if I were just an idiot seeking his attention. Maybe I was.

"I’m going out." Finally, the trembling words escaped my lips.

I watched as he abandoned the papers, slowly lifting his gaze—the same eyes I had once fallen madly in love with. If he could love me, it would have been forever. But every day that passed, I grew weary and lost, searching for a place where I could rest my heart.

"You are?" A short, ironic smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I am." I moistened my lips and took a tiny step forward. "I know you don’t like it when I go out, especially on weekends, but I..." He arched an eyebrow. "...I have to meet Kayla."

What? I had to meet Kayla? I had no idea where she was. But if I knew my friend well, she would drop everything to help me. She had tried so hard to rescue me—even from Bradley. She hated him, and the feeling was mutual.

"No, you’re not." His voice was decisive as he stood from his chair. I felt even smaller with him towering before me—like a modern-day Goliath. "I can’t stand that bitch, and you’re not going out with her."

Anger seemed to grow inside me. I hated when he forbade me to do things. I hated how he spoke about my friend. But I realized it was my fault—Kayla wasn’t involved, and I had dragged her into this.

Sorry, my friend... I apologized silently.

I knew I’d have to sacrifice much for my dream, and I would. I’d go further than Bradley ever imagined knowing of me if it meant achieving my goal. There was a part of me—a side of Mia Lauren he didn’t know. A side I kept hidden, waiting for the right moment to unleash it and allow myself to believe. Believe in me.

"She could come here, but you forbade her." I abandoned fear and welcomed courage. "And she doesn’t come here because I don’t want you two to fight. She doesn’t like you, Bradley."

My husband’s face seemed incredulous as he saw me, for the first time, unafraid.

"All the more reason for you not to go." He slid his hands into his pants pockets. "I don’t want anyone filling your head with negativity about me."

"They don’t need to." I crossed my arms. "I know you well enough. I know who you are."

Bradley opened his mouth to speak.

See? I’m no longer the naïve little girl you always remind me I was.

"That lipstick looks ridiculous," he said, staring into my eyes.

What? His remark left me dumbfounded. My lipstick was pink—I liked it. Every other woman wore color on their lips, not the expensive, sticky gloss Bradley had bought me.

He’d never said I was beautiful—not once after he got what he wanted. It hurt not to hear it. And when he did speak, it was to say things like that. My only choice was to believe him—to believe the worst part of myself that he revealed to me.

"And you’re not going," he said, moving toward the door.

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

"I’m going." With determination, I stepped close to him, confronting him in the hallway.

Bradley widened his eyes; I almost saw him clench his fists. Fear struck me deep, but I didn’t let it show.

"If you go..."

"What are you going to do?" I shrugged, taking a step back. His breath, his cologne, his eyes still unsettled me. "Hit me?"

Bradley clenched his jaw.

"Alright, Bradley." I sighed. "Your words and how you treat me hurt more than that. But I’m going."

I marched downstairs, opened the door, and left. The cold air nearly quenched the fire and anger consuming me. I reached into my back pocket for my phone and called my friend—for real this time.

"Kayla?" I whispered when she answered.

"Hey, Lauren." Her voice was cheerful. "Have you given up on that ridiculous idea of changing that asshole?"

"Almost," I replied, barely recognizing myself in that moment. "Almost."