The Stranger's Wife | Rewritten

12 ⁓ She has other plans

- Amelia -

I had to get a hold of myself. I could still feel his hands on my neck and in between my thighs, his warm breath caressing my ear and neck. It was as if he'd never left the room.

Had he even been here? Or was it all in my head? His cologne shrouded me in a forestry blanket of manliness and that, I couldn't conjure up. That woodsy scent was unique to him alone.

My eyebrows dipped in as frustration jumped on the wagon of emotions I was riding. No invitation was necessary. 

Letting out a long breath, I turned to look at the mirror. My almond-shaped eyes stared back at me and I knew I wasn't the same woman that left my father's house a couple of days ago.

My hair was a hot mess and my nipples, oh my, I didn't think I'd ever seen them this proud before. Most importantly, physicalities aside, I was no longer desperate to be loved by Willem. Nor did I feel the need to love him in return. I always had a one-track mind when it came to our marriage. 

It had to be him and no one else.

For a long time, a part of me wanted to honor my mother's choice, but it was time I made my own choices. Choosing Willem as my husband was the last significant thing she'd done for me before passing away. I missed her and I knew it would hurt her to see us like this, two birds circling each other in a hurricane and hoping not to crash on the rocks below.

But the man I'd gotten married to eleven years ago wasn't the same one standing before me today. Old Willem was kind and supportive. New Willem was manipulative and a womanizer.

I didn't like that he could do this to me, rattle me like this. He made me feel things I could only dream about experiencing. Made me want things that were too good to be true. . . Me and him riding off into the sunset together, two happy birds joined at the feathers.

Where was my brain when I needed her?

I swore my brain only worked when it came to medical related things. 

But right now, I needed her to see past the delusions and sift through the lies. I may not have had much experience in the relationship department, but I thought I was smart enough to know when something wasn't right. 

And something wasn't right here.

Earlier this morning I'd wanted to fight back and gave Willem a piece of my mind. But one glimpse of his arresting eyes and I had turned into a pudding, food for the toothless. He had a way of softening my edges and I hated it.

I'd never had a man put his hand around my neck like that. Like he owned me; like he had every intention of using my body to his liking, his every touch heavy with possession.

I stared at the wooden tray of fruits and French toast laying forgotten on the bed. That was a nice gesture on his part. It was good to know that he was thinking about me, but this madness had to stop. I was going to find him and tell him that he was delusional. That there was nothing between us, nothing meaningful at least.

His bedroom eyes and his blondish curls did things to my body, but that wasn't enough to carry a marriage through health and sickness, worldwide pandemics, burnouts, and the terrible twos. 

Being married to a doctor was no joke. It would take a special kind of man, one with broad shoulders for me to cry on, and one who wouldn't mind sleeping alone at night.

I liked the way Willem carried himself with so much confidence and his voice with that rich accent got my attention every time. But all those things were superficial.