Once Upon A Sad Day

I never belonged here. Not in this house, not in this family, and certainly not as Rowan Vaughn’s wife.

The Vaughns have always seen me as an outsider, a nobody. The maids made it clear enough in their whispers when they thought I wasn’t listening. I could hear them, though. I always heard them.

"How did she even manage to marry him?" one of the maids had giggled as I passed the hallway.

“She’s from that poor family, isn’t she? No connections, no wealth… Nothing,” the other chimed in, her voice dripping with disdain.

I remember pausing, my hand gripping the bannister until my knuckles turned white. I wasn’t supposed to hear. But I did.

“And she doesn’t even have a baby yet. At least she could’ve secured her place that way,” another voice had joined, one of the older maids. “But nope, empty. Bet it won’t be long before the family finds someone else more…suitable.”

Their words clung to me like a weight, heavier than the loneliness that filled these walls. They all knew the truth — everyone did. I was here not because I belonged, but because I had been bought. Traded.

Technically my aunt was scrolling through the dark web when she saw the ads. Funny enough, she had saved the patriarch of the family.

Making her luck great enough to push me to marry their son get money for her daughter's treatment.

I had not minded. I had a huge crush on Rowan. Knowing he was a rich billionaire made me feel like those girls from dramas.

But then I met him, his attitude, his coldness, his disgust and I felt like an idiot.

I forced myself to keep walking, pretending not to care, but the truth was, I cared too much. Each cruel comment burrowed under my skin, a constant reminder that I didn’t fit into the Vaughn world. And not being able to give Rowan a child only made things worse.

Rowan didn’t say it, but I knew. His silence, his absence, spoke volumes.

The Vaughns needed an heir, a perfect one. That’s why his grandfather had agreed to this sham of a marriage in the first place. It wasn’t because of love or compatibility—it was because they needed someone compliant, someone they could control. And I, poor, desperate, had nothing to bargain with but my obedience.

Rowan’s grandfather had looked at me the day we were introduced, and I’ll never forget his words. “You understand why we are allowing this marriage, don’t you, Remi?” His voice was cold, detached.

I nodded, barely meeting his eyes. I knew exactly why. My family was poor, drowning in debt. My cousin Jules’ treatment for leukemia was bleeding us dry, and there was no hope in sight. My aunt and uncle had always made it clear that my only worth lay in what I could do for them, what I could sacrifice. And so I had sacrificed my life for them, my freedom.

“You’ll keep your head down, yes?” his grandfather continued, not waiting for a response. “No scandals, no problems. You’ll do as you're told. We expect discretion.”

“I understand,” I had whispered.

But I hadn’t understood. Not really. Not until I had stepped into this house and realized how small I was in their eyes. A convenient tool, a means to an end.

“Remi, why are you standing there?”

Rowan’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned, finding him standing in the doorway of our bedroom in his grandfather mansion, watching me with tired, indifferent eyes.

“I…was just thinking,” I mumbled, my voice trailing off. I didn’t need to say it. He wasn’t interested. He rarely was.

“I don’t know what you’re always thinking about,” he said, rubbing his temples, “You got what you wanted.”

What I wanted? A bitter laugh bubbled in my throat, but I swallowed it down.

“What I wanted?” I echoed, unable to hide the hurt in my voice.

He looked at me as though I were speaking another language. “This. The money. The security.”

“You think I wanted this?” I stepped closer, unable to stop myself. “Do you really think I chose this, Rowan? This marriage? Your family treats me like dirt. I hear them, the way they talk about me. I know what they think of me.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not like they’re wrong, Remi.”

The words hit me like a slap. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to scream at him, tell him he was wrong, that I was more than just a nobody. But in that moment, I didn’t have the strength.

“You should be grateful. Most girls would only dream of this opportunity.”

Grateful. The word made my stomach twist.

“Is that what you think too?” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “That I’m just some…desperate girl, grateful for whatever scraps your family throws at me?”

Rowan’s silence was answer enough.

Tears stung the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “Do you know what it’s like, Rowan? To be laughed at, to be whispered about by your own husband’s family? To know that they think you’re only here because you were bought and paid for?”

His jaw clenched, but he said nothing. He didn’t defend me. He never did.

“And now, they mock me because I haven’t given you a child. As if that’s the only value I could possibly have,” I added bitterly.

Rowan finally spoke, his voice low. “You knew what this was, Remi. You knew what you were getting into.”

“I didn’t know it would feel like this,” I admitted, my chest tightening, “I didn’t know I’d feel so…alone.”

We stood in silence, the distance between us growing with every passing second. I could see it in his eyes, the battle he fought within himself. But he wouldn’t say it. He wouldn’t admit what I already knew.

“You think I don’t feel alone too?” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself.

I blinked, taken aback. “What?”

He shook his head, turning away from me. “Nothing.”

“No, say it,” I demanded, stepping forward. “Tell me how you feel. I’ve spent months trying to understand why you hate me, why you can’t stand to be in the same room as me. You call me a gold digger, a nobody. But I never asked for any of this, Rowan. I just wanted—”

“What?” he interrupted, his voice sharp. “What did you want, Remi? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you got exactly what you wanted.”

“I wanted a life that wasn’t filled with pain,” I shot back, my voice cracking. “I wanted something real. I wanted… I wanted to not be treated like I’m worthless.”

Rowan’s eyes softened for a brief moment, but the walls came up again just as quickly. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily.

“I didn’t ask for this either,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “You think I wanted to be trapped in this marriage too? You think I don’t feel like I’m drowning?”

I stared at him, stunned by the vulnerability in his voice. It was the closest thing to honesty I had heard from him in months.

“But at least you have your family,” I whispered. “You’re not alone.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

He brought out a cigar, leaning against the wall he lit it, “Tell me what you want, I would give it to you. So you won't feel alone. Money. House. An island. A gigo-”

"I want a divorce," I said to Rowan.

Rowan snorted, puffing smoke from his cigar right into my face. "You think you're in a position to ask for a divorce?" he sneered, his eyes glinting with contempt.

I coughed, waving away the acrid smoke, “You said you would give me anything.”

“Not that.”

His expression was cold, like he'd just sucked on a lemon. His black suit looking like it was tailored to perfection. His white shirt was crisp and bright, and his silver tie sparkled in the light. His dark hair was slicked back, showing off his sharp jawline and piercing dark eyes that seemed to be staring right through me.

"You don't love me. I don't love you. It was a contract marriage and I think it's time for it to end," I informed.

"From what I know, this marriage is supposed to go on for at least six more years," he said,

I frowned, then I showed my left arm that had bruises. "I'm tired, Rowan. It's only been three years,, but it feels like a hundred years. I was beaten today, and you stood by and watched. You did nothing to stop it."

Rowan shrugged, his expression unyielding. "Not my fault that you decided to kill our child," he said, his voice cold and detached.

I shouted, my anger boiling over. "Because of stress, Rowan! Stress and high blood pressure that you and your family put me through! You've made my life a living hell, and I won't take it anymore!"

"Did you just raise your voice at me?" Rowan's eyes narrowed, his voice dripping with disdain. "Who do you think you are? You're nothing, a means to an end. Do you think I want this marriage? I only married you to get my position. And I did. You are useless to me. To me this contract marriage has already ended. You are the one who is still tied to it. Because you know once you leave, your cousin's treatment stops and who knows, she dies.”

I gulped.

He didn't care about the contract. For the past three years, even more mistresses have come and gone. He only touched me once a month. After that night if passion, his hate towards me have become worse.

He stopped me from working. He kept me indoors, most of the time with his family.

The love I used to have for him slowly diminished all I have left is hate.

"I am tired," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I really am."

. "Not my problem," he said, his voice cold. "You can't get a divorce. That's final. Either you get into therapy for your fucked-up mental health or you deal with this. From what I remembered, you were quite excited to marry me."

With that, he turned and walked away, shutting the door behind him. I sighed, feeling the weight of my exhaustion, and crashed to the floor. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I let them fall.