Those Fake Smiles

ROSALIE'S POV~

My heart plummeted as I walked into the lavish banquet hall, my eyes sweeping over the sea of elites, their chattering filled the entire hall as soft music played.

My gaze moved to Damien, my husband, who stood beside me ever since we arrived making my heart crack. For the past one hour, he had been glued to his phone, his face never lifting from its screen, a smile spread across his lips. It was a smile I had never seen him direct at me; for the past three years of our marriage.

I could feel my chest tightening at the thought of him texting someone else, but I dared not suspect. When Damien finally pocketed his phone and turned to me, I met his gaze with a hard look.

His eyes darkened as he spoke, "Don't you know how to fake a smile anymore? Those irritating little smiles of yours that screamed nothing but desperation? We're making an appearance in front of several high calibre people for goodness sake. You must carry this facade on without any slip, Rosalie."

His words cut through me, reminding me of the past 3 years of our marriage, where he had never looked at me with fondness. My chest pinched, and I looked away, pretending to adjust my bracelet to hide the pain.

“I know." My tone was hard and emotionless, just like I had trained it to be. “I've never failed in keeping up the charade of this false marriage, Damien, and you know it. You should appreciate me for that." I threw him a twisted little smile and saw his eyes narrow before he rolled his eyes in irritation and turned toward the guests.

My smile slipped.

“Let's go. Keep your chin up, and plaster that fake smile on your face. Remember, the entire world is watching, and they must never see the truth. Act like the perfect trophy wife, like you always have.” He said while adjusting his cufflinks, my eyes pricked.

And it was true. I was the pure definition of a wretched trophy wife.

The public saw us as a power couple, an image of perfection worthy of admiration. From our spotless appearances at parties, to our smiles for the cameras, we played our part so convincingly that no one would suspect our marriage was a business transaction without a trace of love.

We were praised for our success and my apparent happiness, but the truth was that I was crumbling inside. I wanted to laugh at the comments about my glowing skin, knowing it had nothing to do with Damien's love and everything to do with the façade I was forced to maintain.

At a signal from Damien, I hooked my arm around his, feeling him stiffen at the touch. He hated any physical contact from me aside when we were to have sex, but we had to maintain the appearance of a loving couple. I knew I should pull away, but instead I tightened my grip as the cameras began to flash, a wide smile plastered on my face. I was trained for this, to be the perfect wife and put on a show for the world.

This was the ugly part of life that I had chosen.

“You look so beautiful. I love the gown and purse, girl." I heard one of the female guests who looked like a model gushed at me.

I grimaced, forcing my lips into a wider smile as I lifted my hand in a tiny wave, while inwardly wanting to wipe the fake smile off my face.

Damien strode forward with relentless confidence, while I limped behind him, trying to hide the pain that shot through my legs with every step and Damien didn't even care to slow his pace, he didn't even bother throwing me a look. I clenched my jaw, gritting my teeth as tears threatened to spill, and desperately attempted to ignore the nausea that was creeping up my throat.

As we greeted the wealthy guests, the dizziness intensified, making my head spin and the room sway. I couldn't hold it back any longer. I reached out and pinched Damien's arm, hard enough to halt his progress toward the next couple. I bit my cheek, trying to keep myself from throwing up as I pleaded, "Please, I need to use the restroom."

Damien shot me a look that was almost a glare, but I knew better. He wouldn't make a scene here, where everyone was watching. "You better be quick," he hissed through clenched teeth. "I don't mind leaving you behind.”

I hurried off towards the restroom, ignoring Damien’s retreating back as he brushed past me to greet the couple we’d ignored. I swallowed back the bile that rose in my throat and the tears that threatened to spill over.

~ ~ ~

Finally, the business banquet came to an end. Damien rushed to the car without even opening the door for me, even without throwing a glance to check if I had followed after him or not. He had entirely dropped the act now that we were away from prying eyes. I was now totally invisible to him.

This was the Damien I know.

As he slipped into the car, he buried his head in his phone, completely absorbed in texting someone. It was as if he couldn't wait to escape this farce of a marriage. My heart turned to ice as I fumbled with the pregnancy test in my purse, hidden from view.

I was terrified. This marriage was supposed to be just business, nothing more. But now I am pregnant.

Damn you, Rosaline! Why did this happen?

I felt so stupid. Utterly stupid. I wanted to hit myself so hard that I'd be bruised and yet I was desperate to protect the growing life in me.

I was fortunate that it was already dark and the darkness concealed the tears running down my cheeks. I glanced at Damien, who wore a mischievous grin as he texted someone over the phone, extremely excited like a teenage boy in love. My chest tightened, fear gripping me.

Would Damien call our baby a bastard? I tried to speak, but my lips trembled and no words came out.

"Damien..." I managed to whisper, but his head snapped towards me with a murderous glare.

"Just shut up and shut the door," he snapped, turning on the engine. I did as he said, my heart sinking as we drove away into the night.

~ ~ ~

My chest tightened as the car came to a halt, a silent indication that Damien was about to broach a subject he'd been stewing on. I knew it was now or never, so I opened my mouth, ready to tell him that I was pregnant.

It wasn't easy to find a moment alone with Damien. Our interactions were mostly business parties and meetings, with only the occasional trip home for work documents or a sick day in between. But I had to tell him.

But just as I began to speak, Damien cut me off with a harsh, "Get out!"

His barked command reverberated through the car, and I felt a chill creep over my skin. I stared at him, mouth agape, struggling to comprehend what had just happened.

Outside, there was nothing but the barren landscape of nowhere. A few cars dotted the road, but no people in sight. My heart sank to the pit of my stomach. "But Damien, I'm..."

"Get out now!" he barked, opening the car door and shoving me out.

The rough shove caught me off guard and I stumbled out of the car, tears stinging my eyes. As I watched the car peel away, my heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

I didn't need a seer to tell me where he was headed. The way he'd been glued to his phone all day, messaging some mystery woman, said it all. I sank to the ground, overcome with sadness.

I had no idea how I had returned home. Thankfully I had a little cash that helped me board a taxi. I stayed up late and couldn't even seem to catch up a wink of sleep, waiting for Damien to return but it was already 2am. My phone dinged with a notification, and I hurriedly picked it up expecting to see Damien's text, only to see what made my world come to a halt.

Right before my eyes, videos and pictures of Damien making love with another woman, his mistress, flashed before my very eyes. My legs buckled but I was lucky to clutch onto the armrest of the sofa, clinging onto it as though it was my own life. My mind, my body, my system seemed to shut down and I felt extremely numb that I could no longer cry. All I could do was simply stare at my cell phone over and over again.

Exactly 3 am, the door to the front door opened, revealing Damien, who had his coat in an arm, making his way into the house, only to stop when he saw me descending the stairs with a dark expression on my face. His jaw ticked.

The first thing my eyes seemed to catch on were the heavy lipsticks on the collar of Damien's shirt and then his neck that had just a stain of the same shade of lipstick, my lips twisted into an extremely cold smile.