Precious [h.s.]

Chapter 51

I would rather stay at Adelia’s house for two more weeks, sleeping on an uncomfortable bed every night, rather than spend one more second with Michael.

Ever since I stepped inside the morning when I left Adelia’s place, he has been nothing but irritating. Every little thing I do, every word that comes out of my mouth, he has something to comment upon it. I go into one room to get away from him, and he follows me. I told him to call a friend, find a girlfriend, a new wife, anything just to leave me alone.

The first thing I saw when I entered through the door was smoke. Smoke everywhere. I thought something was burning – something in the kitchen, or maybe something got caught on fire. It didn’t take me long to realize that it was indeed smoke, but not that kind of smoke.

I walked into the living room, only to find Michael spread out on the couch, his suit jacket thrown on the floor, his shirt unbuttoned, open bottles of whisky on the table, and a joint in his hand. A sight for sore eyes, truly.

“What the hell are you doing, Michael?” I ask him, crossing my arms over my body. He looks like a mess. I hate this house from the depth of my heart, but it seems to me that every time I get away for whatever short amount of time, I came back to everything being a disaster – including Michael.

“My dear wife, you’re finally home. I’ve missed you, honey,” he mumbles and stands up, coming my way.

“Michael, don’t-“I start and try to push him away, but his hands are already wrapped around my waist. It’s not the sweet embrace that I’m used to. Not the one I could never get enough of. It’s not Harry’s.

“Where have you been? You always go away for days, and I don’t see you. Hasn’t your friend gotten tired of you?” he laughs, referring to Adelia. It surprises me that he still believes this. Every time I hung out with Harry, I told him I was going out with Adelia. Shopping with Adelia, spa with Adelia, sleepover with Adelia, and a hundred more made-up activities that never happened. And still, he believes it. I know he does, because if he would ever get suspicious of anything he would say it straight to my face. He would act upon it. He knows he has this kind of power over me, so he wouldn’t shy away from not allowing me to leave the house. It wouldn’t be the first time when it happened, either. Just a wrong step and he could change my plans in the way that he wanted.

“Hopefully no,” I say, laughing lightly, trying to make him drop his questions.

“I’ve slept in an empty bed. I hate that. You should stay home more. That’s why you’re my wife,” he speaks slowly, and I feel the alcohol in his voice. I turn my head away, feeling dark memories cloud my mind.

“I need to go change. I’ll be back in a second,” I say, with no actual intention of doing it, and push him down on the couch.

The past few days have been…rough. I hadn’t realized how busy Harry kept me until I had to spend every day alone in a big, lonely house. This was my usual routine before I met him, and I was used to it, but now that I’ve had a taste of the thrill of doing something, however trivial it might have seemed, it’s not as exciting as it was before.