A Maid

Amber

There was a time when I loved him with everything I had, and thought he loved me too. I was so sure of us, so sure of him. But now…I wasn’t sure anymore. It’s hard to believe you’re loved when you’re constantly being treated like a maid in your own home.

There are some days I try to convince myself that Dan still loves me, but I later get to realize that’s all a show for the public’s approval. My husband lives off it.

I’m fumbling with the zipper of my dress when Dan storms into my bedroom, his voice already rising as he calls out my name.

“Amber!” Dan’s voice booms with anger. “Are you still not ready yet? We’re going to be late for the gala! What the hell is taking you so long?” His words are sharp, cutting into me like a thousand tiny knives. They always do.

“I’m almost done,” I reply, my voice trembling as I finally get around to zipping my dress. I’d chosen one of the dresses Dan had Lilian his personal shopper bring me. Trust Dan to treat me like trash, but the moment there is an event for us to attend together, he will spare nothing in getting me expensive dresses and accessories so I can be beautiful to the outside world and make them believe that we are the perfect couple and he loves me.

Dan does anything but love me. He hates me. And he has never failed to let me know, every chance he gets. “I’m sorry, maybe you can go without me; I will come join you,” I say with a low, shaky voice.

Dan’s eyes scans me with disdain, and I can feel my self-worth crumbling under his gaze. “Do you even care about this event? Do care that it’s important for me to attend? You think this is a joke? Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to show up without you?” he spits, the derision in his tone making my stomach turn. “Of course you don’t. You care about nothing but yourself!”

I want to tell him that last night I have done is put myself first, but instead, I press my lips together, fighting back tears. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“Just what?” he interrupts, crossing his arms as if to block any semblance of compassion. “You’ve had all day to get ready. Why do I have to always remind you n how to be a proper wife?” he throws his hands in the air, “you have to be reminded of how to do everything.”

With shaking hands, I apply the last touches of makeup, my reflection a fragile façade of the woman I used to be. I try to tune out all the hurtful words that Dan spits. “I’ll be ready in a moment,” I murmur. The more I try to compose myself, the more I feel like crying.

I take a few deep breaths before speaking again. “I’m sorry, Dan,” I manage to say, the words barely a whisper. “I would have been prepared earlier but I was busy cleaning.”

“Whatever,” he snaps, turning on his heel. “Just hurry up. You had better be ready in five minutes or you’re not going to like your sorry ass when I come back here,” he barks as he walks out, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence, my heart pounding in my chest.

Taking a deep breath, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror—my warm brown eyes, usually filled with life, now looks dull and defeated. I feel like a maid in my own marriage. Scratch that, I’m a maid in my own marriage.

Dan and I met in my second year in college; we were in love, or so I thought. Dan used to shower me with so much love and attention. Until everything changed.

“No need to dwell in the past, Amber,” I murmur to myself.

One last glance at the mirror, I grab my purse and quickly run after Dan. As always, tonight I have to wear my mask and smile like I’m the happiest woman in the world.

The ride to the gala is silent. I stare out the window, keeping my thoughts and fears far away. We arrive, and Dan gives me a nudge and whispers, "Smile," his voice low and commanding as we step out of the car into the flashing lights of the paparazzi.

I plaster on the wide, practiced smile that the cameras have come to know as mine, and he pulls me close, pressing his lips to my temple as if we’re the perfect couple. The crowd eats it up; they always do.

“Amber, you look stunning! Who are you wearing tonight?” an interviewer asks, shoving a microphone toward us. I open my mouth to answer, but Dan quickly steps in. “She’s wearing Jean-Luc Couture.”

“He bought it for me as a gift,” I add, playing along.

The interviewer’s eyes light up as she glances between us. “That’s so thoughtful! It’s clear Dan adores you—just look at the way he’s gazing at you,” the interviewer beams.

 “He’s a real romantic.” I laugh politely, pretending it’s true, as we answer a few more questions and pose for photos before making our way inside.

As we step inside, Dan leans close, his hand gripping my arm just tightly enough to keep me in place. His voice is low, but the edge in it slices through the bustling crowd noise around us.

“For God’s sake, Amber, make your smile look more real,” he mutters, his lips barely moving. “And don’t even think of embarrassing me tonight.”

I force myself to keep my expression neutral, as I offer him a small, tight-lipped smile. “Of course, Dan,” I reply quietly, swallowing down every bitter word I want to say. 

“I need a drink,” he murmurs before walking to the open bar.

As soon as Dan releases my arm and strides off, I let out the breath I’d been holding. My shoulders sag slightly, relieved to be left alone, even if it’s only for a moment. But the brief moment of relief doesn’t last. I spot Cheryl and Anna, from one of the charity events Dan makes me attend just to keep up appearance, making their way toward me, both of them beaming with smiles.

“Amber, you look absolutely stunning!” Cheryl gushes, her eyes sweeping over my dress. “Olive green is perfect on you. Did Dan also get you this dress?”

“He did,” I respond.

Anna nods enthusiastically. “Oh Dan, he just dotes on you, doesn’t he? I mean, the way he looks at you—it’s like something out of a fairy tale.”

I force a smile, nodding politely. “Thank you,” I say softly. If only they knew half of it.

Anna sighs wistfully. “If only my husband showed me half the attention Dan showers on you. Honestly, you’re so lucky, Amber.”

Cheryl chimes in with a laugh. “Lucky indeed! I can’t remember the last time my husband took me shopping. Dan seems to spoil you endlessly.”

The irony of their words nearly brings tears to my eyes. They have no idea what’s behind this perfect image Dan and I project. They have no idea what I suffer behind closed doors.

I swallow hard, forcing down the urge to fall apart right here. “He does his best,” I murmur, my voice barely holding steady. “Will you ladies please excuse me for just a moment? I need to powder my nose.”

Before they can respond, I turn and quickly walk away, desperate to be alone before my tears betray me. As I turn a corner searching for the restroom, I crash into something solid, like a wall. I stumble, losing my balance, but before I hit the floor, a pair of strong hands catch me, steadying me in place.

Heart racing, I look up, and freeze, my breath caught in my throat. I didn’t crash into a rock; no, it’s human.

Liam.