NINE YEARS AGO The day my world shattered wasn't marked by storm clouds or ominous signs. Instead, the sun shone with cruel indifference, its warmth a stark contrast to the cold emptiness gnawing at my chest at. I stood before the mirror in my bedroom, barely recognizing the girl staring back at me. Her long black hair hung limp around a face too pale, too thin. Dark circles beneath eyes red-rimmed and a red nose from four nights of endless tears. I smoothed down the front of my simple black dress, the fabric feeling foreign against my skin. At sixteen, I'd never owned anything so somber. Mom would have hated it. She always said black washed me out, insisting I wear vibrant colors that "brought out the sparkle" in my green eyes. I'd always argue that my eyes had no sparkle, but she would make me wear the brighter shades nonetheless. But Mom wasn't here anymore. And today, I'd watch as they lowered her into the ground. A soft knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts.
"I'm Bertha," she said, her tone friendly but with a hint of something I couldn't quite place. "And you must be Amelia. It's nice to finally meet you," She smiled, holding out a hand and further deepening my confused state. Before I could respond, heavy footsteps approached, and my father appeared behind Bertha. The change in his demeanor was so jarring it made me blink in disbelief. Gone was the broken man I'd glimpsed at the cemetery. Instead, his face was lit with a smile broader and more genuine than any I'd seen in years. "Ah, Bertha! I see you found the room on your own," he said, his voice warm with affection. He placed a hand on her shoulder, the casual intimacy of the gesture making my stomach churn. "What do you think? It's the second largest bedroom in the house." Bertha glanced around, taking in the pale blue walls, the window seat overlooking the garden, the bookshelf crammed with my favorite novels. "I like it," she declared with a nod. "Much better than the other
Roman didn't come back to his house for three days, a decision I was grateful for because I wasn't sure how to face him now that he plagued my dreams like a fucking disease after that stupid kiss. I never should have let it happen, most especially before I made a bet that I wouldn't bail on this farce. The opening of the department stores was in two days, and I had no idea how I was going to walk into that place, hand in hand with a man I could not face. “Is there something bothering you, Miss Amelia?” Trenton asked as he handed me a glass of water and sat on the stool next to me. I met the man's kind eyes and forced a smile. “Not really…” I muttered, staring down my fiddling fingers. A bad habit I had when something was bothering me. No doubt, Trenton knew me well enough to know as well. “Actually…” I turned to look at Trenton with a curious gaze, “I do have a question,” Trenton nodded. “Why are you here?” I asked, “I mean, how did you end up being the Wellin
Three whole days he didn't come home and the one time he did? He brought Bertha with him. From what Trenton said, it seemed like this wasn't the first time. If he knew I loved him so much that such a sight would bother me…why doesn't he have the common courtesy to keep his mistress out of what's supposed to be a matrimonial home? “Why are you getting so upset?” Jessica asked from over the phone as she heard my ramblings, no doubt eager for me to shut my pie hole and talk about the vacation instead. I shook my head, though I knew she didn't see me, “No, I'm not upset,” I lied. “I'm just irritated by her presence, that's all,” I replied and then let out a heavy sigh, propping up the pillow behind my head so I would be more comfortable. “I just mean, he brought her here yesterday, we have an important event to discuss and prepare for tomorrow…does he plan on taking her?” I scoffed, biting noisily through the chips in my hand. I heard Jessica laugh, “It doesn't matter,
ROMANFIVE YEARS EARLIER I stared out the window of my Moscow apartment, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. The cool glass pressed against my forehead as I sighed, my breath fogging up the pane. My phone buzzed insistently on the nearby table, my father's name flashing on the screen. I knew I should answer it. I'd been avoiding my family's calls for weeks now, making excuses about being too busy with work. But the truth was, I just didn't want to talk to them. Every conversation left me feeling drained and irritated. The buzzing stopped, then started again almost immediately. I groaned, pushing myself away from the window and grabbing the phone. "Hello, Father," I said, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. "Roman! Finally, you answer. I've been trying to reach you for days," my father's gruff voice came through the speaker. "I've been busy. You know how it is with work," I replied, the lie coming easily to my lips. "Too busy to talk to your own father? Th
Bertha was upset. Crying, soaking my shirt through with her tears and quite frankly, all I could do was hold her to my chest and pat her back. Everything makes her upset these days, everything makes her cry. Almost like after she came back, she became a whole different person. Not the strong woman I knew her to be, that never cared whenever Amelia was near or whatever it was Amelia said to her. Now she was constantly emotional and as much as I hated to admit it, it was throwing me off. Still, it was my fault. I was the incompetent one for not divorcing Amelia and keeping her happy, it was all my fault. But a selfish part of me wishes she wouldn't be affected by it so much, I wished she would understand just how hard it was for me as well. Does she think I want to stay married to Amelia? “Bertha, I'm pretty sure, whatever your sister said to you, she didn't mean it…she was probably upset as well…” Bertha pulled back abruptly looking up at me with a teary gaze,
AMELIAThe dress I picked was the royal blue dress Roman had gotten for me when we went shopping. Mainly because I bought him a suit with the same color. A deep royal blue that I knew for a fact would look fantastic on him. There was a look in his eyes when I wore that dress, one that gave me a lot to think about. To see that look in his eyes again… No. I shook my head and watched my reflection. No need to think like a stupid person. Why would you want him to look at you with desire in his eyes? You don't want him! After pulling on the dress, I zipped it up as far as my hand could reach and proceeded to work on my hair. The event was starting in three hours and I had to be done in thirty minutes. After our so-called truce, Roman and I were now seemingly on good terms and quite frankly, he didn't annoy me as much but, a part of me dreaded going to the event. Not just because there'll be countless people staring but because I know he'll leave me alone to handle it a
There's so much I want to say to him, yet I knew it would be better to stay silent. I didn't trust myself to speak around him anymore, I seem to say the most stupid shit when I look into his eyes. Unlike what it looked like the last time I saw it, the department store looked magnificent. It was finished, higher than I remembered and painted a golden and silver shade that made the entrance alone scream luxury. Roman's arm was around my waist as the driver rounded the corner and we stepped down. Reporters and countless cameras flooded the entrance, all rushing towards us and asking a flurry of questions that I struggled to grasp. What bothered me was the flashes from the cameras, they felt uncomfortable and had my heart racing faster than necessary. I slowly tensed, panic rising in my throat as my ears rang and all the tiny hairs on my skin stood on alert. I didn't like it one bit. I couldn't see a thing, I couldn't understand why seeing so many flashes affected me,