The staggering height difference between his muscular 6'2" frame and my petite 5'3" made me feel even more powerless and insignificant in his presence. I could smell his cologne, the same scent that used to make me weak in the knees but now just made me nauseous.
"I am a man, whether you like it or not," he growled, his hot breath reeking of stale coffee and cigarettes fanning across my face.
I tried not to gag.
"A real man, not some weak little pussy-whipped bitch like you want to turn me into." He added through gritted teeth, turning off the burner on the stove before I could with his other hand.
The pan's contents was now a blackened, smoky, inedible mess. Just like our relationship.
I stared at the ruined food, which was a perfect metaphor for my life.
"You're the one who's unfit - unfit for this house, unfit for my bed, unfit for my seed." His cruel words stabbed at my femininity and my sense of self-worth like a rusty knife.
I thought of the pregnancy test I'd taken in secret last week… the relief and sadness I'd felt at the negative result.
Richard noticed the pain and humiliation etched on my face. The corner of his lips raised in a sardonic smirk.
He always did enjoy seeing me suffer.
"Seeing your miserable, pathetic form in front of me makes me lose my appetite for food and sex. What did I do in a past life to be afflicted with a woman who doesn't even resemble a real woman? Why do I feel like I'm living with someone of the same useless sex as myself?"
He succeeded in stealing my voice. He succeeded in rendering me mute as I fought back the sting of tears.
I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Not again.
Then he shoved me aside, nearly making me topple over.
I struggled to maintain my balance in the ridiculous heels he demanded I wear around the house.
My hip collided painfully with the edge of the counter, and I knew it would leave yet another bruise to add to my collection.
"You'd better take care of the move and have everything ready at the new place while I'm gone, unless you want a repeat of this morning's fun."
He snatched his suit jacket from the back of the kitchen chair and headed for the front door, not even bothering to look back at me.
"I'm leaving for work. Don't disappoint me again, Emmeline."
I stared daggers into his back as if I could burn holes through his tailored shirt with the intensity of my glare and hatred alone.
"I hope you get hit by a truck," I muttered under my breath, even though some dark, shameful part of me still craved his approval and affection like an addict.
I hated that part of myself, the weakness that kept me glued to this monster.
I let out a deep, shuddering sigh of relief once the front door slammed and he was finally gone.
The silence in the apartment was deafening.
Should I be thankful his busy work schedule and lack of time meant he didn't go to even further extremes abusing me this morning?
It's not like the physical and emotional torture was anything new or that I'm not used to it by now. That's what my life has become - bracing for his next outburst, walking on eggshells, never knowing what small misstep or perceived insolence on my part would trigger his unchecked rage.
After taking a few minutes to compose myself and clean up the mess in the kitchen, I slowly made my way to our bedroom to change clothes for the day ahead.
Each step was painful for my body marred with a road map of old and new injuries.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back at me.
Where was the bright-eyed, ambitious girl I used to be?
No amount of makeup could conceal the fading yellows and purples of old bruises around my eyes and jaw.
I was trapped in this waking nightmare of a marriage, and I didn't know how to escape without risking even worse consequences.
All I could do was keep my head down, avoid his wrath as much as possible, and try to survive another day as an empty shell of the vibrant, hopeful young woman I used to be.
While applying another layer of concealer, trying in vain to hide the evidence of my husband's "love," I kept wondering how I'd ended up here.
I thought of my parents, of my friends, of all the people who should have protected me but instead pushed me deeper into this abyss.
I thought of my dreams, the career I was slowly watching slip away as Richard's control tightened.
My gaze darted to the clock.
The movers will be here soon.
Richard had recently been promoted to department head of surgery at the prestigious Riverwalk National University Hospital, where he works. And with his salary more than doubling, he went on a spending spree.
He put a down payment on an ostentatious villa in the ritziest neighborhood in town - Achrafieh Hill, where only the wealthiest upper-crust families resided. Against my wishes, of course.
He's the spoiled second son born into an obscenely rich, influential family, while I'm the youngest daughter of a respectable but solidly middle-class household.
The stark difference in our backgrounds had always been a source of tension, with Richard often reminding me how "lucky" I was that he had deigned to marry beneath his social status.
As if I should be grateful for the abuse and humiliation he heaped on me daily.
I had to put on a brave face and pretend everything was fine.
I began gathering my things. A small voice at the back of my mind whispered that this couldn't go on forever.
Something had to change. I just prayed that when it did, I would survive the fallout.
I stared at my reflection in the tall mirror of the ornate dresser, at my petite frame drowning in the short blue dress with its thin straps over a long-sleeved white shirt.
It was mid-November in Riverwalk after all, and I had to cover the marks on my arms.
My long brown hair was pulled up in a high, messy bun, and my hazel eyes flattened with dejection and anguish over my small, helpless body.
Do I really lack femininity and womanly appeal like that cruel bastard claimed?
I turned slowly left and right, critically examining my reflection in the tall bedroom mirror.
My curves were undeniably present - full breasts straining against the thin fabric of my dress, a narrow waist that flared out to shapely hips and a toned backside from years of ballet and yoga.
Despite being only 5'3", my feminine charms were quite prominent.
My long, silky black hair cascaded down my back, and my almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips gave me a delicate, classically beautiful appearance.
My body wasn't bad at all, or at least it didn't used to be before the constant stress and torment started taking its toll.
Dark circles had begun to form under my eyes from sleepless nights, and my skin had lost some of its youthful glow.
Still, I was far from the unattractive shrew Richard made me out to be.
He's the one who needs to visit an ophthalmologist, not me!
I closed my eyes tightly, expelling the toxic, self-doubting thoughts from my mind.
Don't let his vicious, misogynistic words penetrate you and erode your self-worth, I scolded myself.
The problem isn't you or your appearance - it's him and his archaic, controlling mindset. You're beautiful, smart, and capable. Don't ever forget that!
At 10 am sharp, the moving crew of four large, burly men arrived to empty our modest city apartment of all our belongings.I trailed behind the massive truck carrying our furniture and possessions in a taxi, giving them directions to the new, high-end neighborhood.My stomach churned with anxiety as we approached our new home, knowing that this move would only serve to further isolate me from my support system and give Richard more control over my life.Achrafieh Hill contained only three luxurious mansions spaced extremely far apart - each one trying to outdo the other in grandeur and excess.One particular property occupied a massive, sprawling area surrounded by towering iron gates and a security checkpoint. It was not our new place, of course—Richard didn't make that much, at least not yet.But I had no doubt he aspired to own such a fortress one day, further cutting me off from the outside world.I paid the taxi driver and headed over to the four brawny workers, addressing them a
"Looks like you need some help there."The painting obscured my view, so I didn't realize it was a man until his rich, husky voice flowed into my ears from behind me.I tilted my head to the right and my gaze landed on the sculpted, exquisite features of a very handsome stranger.He was easily over 6 feet tall, with sharp, masculine features - eyes that crinkled becomingly at the corners and a head of perfectly tousled black hair.An air of quiet confidence and self-assuredness radiated from him in waves that were utterly breathtaking.For a moment, I forgot how to breathe."Leave it, I'll carry it for you," he stated firmly in a way that was authoritative and wouldn't take no for an answer.There was something about his demeanor that both irritated and intrigued me.And because I've always detested being ordered around or having my capabilities underestimated, I immediately objected with a shake of my head.The sweaty strands of hair that had escaped my bun tickled my cheek. "It's ok
For the next few hours, I threw myself into the task of cleaning and organizing.I carefully hung up my and Richard's clothes in the spacious walk-in closet, trying not to dwell on how my modest wardrobe barely filled a quarter of the available space.My husband's designer suits and expensive shoes, on the other hand, seemed right at home in such luxurious surroundings.Evening approached.I decided to take a break from unpacking and do some baking instead.Cooking had always been a source of comfort for me, a way to center myself when life felt chaotic or overwhelming.I spent the next hour or so in the gleaming gourmet kitchen, losing myself in the familiar rhythms of measuring, mixing, and folding.The result of my efforts was two batches of my signature cakes – one a rich chocolate fudge, the other a delicate lemon poppyseed.As they cooled on the marble countertop, filling the air with their tempting aromas, I carefully packed them into decorative boxes I had bought specifically
Minnie returned rather quickly. She set a plate of cookies on the coffee table between us, smothered her short white sundress, and plopped down next to me in a casual, friendly manner."I was planning to visit your house a little later after the twins came back from daycare to officially welcome you to the neighborhood," she said with a friendly laugh. "But you beat me to it! I'm so glad you did, though."My eyes widened in astonishment at her words. "Twins? You're...you're a mother?" I sputtered out, feeling a bit foolish for my surprise.I tried to reconcile the image of this youthful, vibrant woman before me with that of a mother of two.Minnie giggled audibly. "Why do you look so shocked? Do you think motherhood isn't suitable for a woman like me?" She arched one finely sculpted eyebrow teasingly, but there was no malice in her tone.I waved my hand in denial, flustered and trying to backpedal. "No, no, that's not what I meant at all! I just... you look so young and..." I trailed
I could sense a hint of... envy or resentment in Minnie's tone.She hugged her arms dramatically, unable to contain a slightly exaggerated shiver. "Even their way of dealing with people and socializing is completely different from normal folks. The Blackthorn couple were called the Ice Duo by society's elite circles. Can you believe that? Who would want such a chilly nickname?"She looked at the small cake she had placed on the table earlier with clear pity in her gaze as if even the dessert might wilt under the Blackthorns' frosty demeanor."You'll have to go over there and officially greet them after leaving my house," Minnie said with a warning edge that made me sit up straighter. "It's expected in our little community. But don't feel too afraid of my words about them. It's not like they'll actually devour you or anything!"She attempted a small laugh that sounded forced and did little to ease the sudden knot of anxiety in my stomach.I swallowed nervously, and my mouth suddenly dr
The imposing manor's exterior lights flickered on, illuminating the well-kept grounds with a welcoming, cozy glow.I squared my shoulders, determined to make a good first impression. After all, first impressions could be everything, and who knew what intriguing secrets lay behind those doors?I politely introduced myself to the woman who spoke through the smart doorbell's intercom system and then passed through the gates with measured, unhurried steps.The distance between the entrance and the manor itself was vast, but the immaculately landscaped grounds and winding pathways made for a pleasant, almost zen-like stroll.As I approached the impressive main entrance, I was greeted by a striking woman clad in a knee-length black tuxedo dress that hugged her curvy frame to perfection.Her dark hair was styled in elegant curls that brushed just past her shoulders, and I instantly deduced that this poised beauty could only be the elusive Mrs. Blackthorn herself."Mrs. Blackthorn?" I venture
The sun was starting to set, illuminating our peaceful neighborhood street with long, golden shadows when I arrived home.I fumbled with my keys while juggling the grocery bags I'd picked up after my visit to the Blackthorns before finally managing to unlock the front door.I headed straight inside, kicking off my flats by the front door and heading to the kitchen.The house still smelled faintly of fresh paint and new furniture, a reminder that we'd only moved in only a few hours ago.I entered the kitchen and immediately set about preparing dinner. My movements were automatic like I had been programmed to perform this ritual without fail.Our kitchen had a charming balcony overlooking the backyard and the neighborhood behind our new house.The fading sunlight filtered through the half-open blinds, throwing long shadows across the tiled floor.Whenever I turned to look out the window to my right, I couldn't stop myself from staring at the Blackthorn manor towering majestically in the
Richard’s eyelids twitched in annoyance at my thinly veiled jab, and I knew from months of experience that he didn't like it when I subtly called out his shortcomings or mistakes.His face flushed an ugly shade of red, and a vein pulsed at his temple."You're only good at complaining and nagging, my God," he spat, slamming his briefcase down on the kitchen table. "Your shrill, whiny voice alone gives me a pounding headache. I don't know how I've put up with you and your mindless griping all these months. Sometimes, I think I should have listened to my mother and never married you in the first place."He pulled a chair from the kitchen table roughly and sat down heavily. The wood groaned in protest under his weight.He sat there expectantly, like a scolded child waiting to be served, not even offering to help set the table or get his own drink.I angrily punched the air behind him, imagining my fist connecting with his thick skull.The fantasy was so vivid I could almost feel the satis