Йой! Нажаль, це зображення не відповідає нашим правилам. Щоб продовжити публікацію, будь ласка, видаліть його або завантажте інше.
My eyes refused to move away from her disappearing figure. What does she think of herself? Insulting me every now and then while she goes around and destroys my reputation.
"What reputation? People don't even know she's your wife, man," my conscience mocked me yet again, which I ignored. I refused to accept her being with that guy; it irked me somehow. "And you're bringing unknown girls here into this house?" God!! Someone make this voice stop.
Maybe this is not the whole reason why I'm annoyed; the earlier incident got the best of me and made me lose my senses. I don't want to talk about it. All I'm getting today is beating after beating, that's all. Sighing, I went inside my room, though my heart screamed to go and apologize, but my ego was too huge to put aside. I simply fell on my bed, thinking about her once again.
She was just like this little nugget—feisty and daring. She was my baby; I used to love her, still do, and pamper her like a princess she was. But then she left, and my world became dull. People around me kept telling me to move on and accept reality, but I can't. It's been more than 5 years, and I still couldn't accept that she left me here all alone by myself. Can't she come back once again and hold me in her arms?
I miss her...
---
It was afternoon when I finished my work. I got a call from my parents, reminding me about the reception they held for both me and Avantika. I hesitated to go and ask her to accompany me to the party. I mean, I have to ask her anyway because then it doesn't make any sense if I went to my own reception without my wife. My palms sweated. Fuck, Anvay, what are you afraid of? It was her fault entirely, hers. Persuading myself, I knocked on her door. "Emma, come in; you don't have to knock," I heard her monotonous voice.
I slowly pushed the door open, peeking my head inside, only to find her settled on the bed, reading a book. She lifted her head when she didn't hear anyone speaking. I watched as she rolled her eyes upon finding me standing at her doorway.
Mumbling something under her breath, "What do you want?" Her voice was icy, causing a chill to run down my spine. "I..." Wait, why was I here again? And why the hell I'm stammering!? God, she intimidates me! "If you're done, leave," she spoke again, her face devoid of any emotion.
"O-h, we have to attend the reception this evening, so get ready before 6. Wear something that matches our standards; you're my wife now, and you have to carry yourself like that," I stated. "What's so special about it?" I heard her murmuring, which I ignored. "Okay, that's all?" she asked again, focusing on her book. Can't she focus on me just once? I huffed. "I'm sorry," I mumbled lowly, doubting if she even heard that. I closed the door and left.
As soon as the clock hit 6, I was all ready, waiting for the Queen Victoria herself to arrive. Note the sarcasm. My mind again drifted back to the argument. Should I apologize again if she didn't hear it? Of course, she didn't; it came out so low, after all. It wasn't her fault; she was just with that guy, laughing. He might just be her friend, as much as I can figure out. She wants only one thing from me—to stay away from her. But then why the hell am I so stubborn to stick around her?
It's frustrating when she keeps ignoring me like a plague. I even began annoying her to get her attention. Really, so fucking childish, I know, but I can't help it. She's the first woman who was playing with me without even doing anything. She's on my mind for hours. When I wake up, I search for her, but she, like always, left for her work. When I plan to get up early to see when she leaves, so that I could offer her a ride to her workplace, I couldn't catch up with her again. Then, when I'm at my workplace, I'm thinking about her. Why is she so cold and blunt? Why doesn't she laugh or smile often? Why is she not bothered about her husband having an affair? Does she really not want to work on this marriage, on us? Why doesn't she act like the women I read about or watch on TVs when my mom was busy watching serials like Anupama and what was that Gopi bhau one yeah Saath Nibhana Saathiya ?
The way they feel jealous and all? I want to know her better, and here she doesn't even want to see my face. I want to know her real purpose of marrying me because money doesn't look like one. She doesn't even wear or crave any luxurious things, as much as I observed her in these two months. All she does is go to her job and then come back exhausted, sometimes cooking when Emma is not present. That's all.
Йой! Нажаль, це зображення не відповідає нашим правилам. Щоб продовжити публікацію, будь ласка, видаліть його або завантажте інше.
Chains of my thoughts were broken when the clicking of heels fell in my ears from a distance. Lifting my head, I stood rooted to my spot. The sight was fucking mesmerizing enough to make my jaw drop. Is she for real? And again, she's my wife... like only mine? That dress looks so alluring on her. Fear rose up that all men will have their eyes on what's mine. Only I can claim her as her husband.
She delicately lifted her long gown, stepping down the stairs. She looks like an angel, to be honest. My heart desired to do nothing but hold her by her slender waist from the back and swirl her around, making her giggle. I want to see her smiling, laughing. She looks more bewitching, I bet, but right at the moment, her face was emotionless.
I didn't even realize when she came and stood in front of me, staring straight into my eyes, trying to find something, and I refused to show her anything. It will be her first... doesn't matter to break or mend, but it will her who'll be the first in this marriage... fake marriage
Йой! Нажаль, це зображення не відповідає нашим правилам. Щоб продовжити публікацію, будь ласка, видаліть його або завантажте інше.
