Union

65.

Roel
Three months of having my angel play different roles, her personality hidden by day and muted by night. Only ever with me, with everyone else she's the same Maria they're used to. But with me, I know the real Maria and she can't hide from me anymore. Even before we were married she struggled, an invisible thread that pulled us together knowing that she's my better half but I was a fucking fool denying it.
Walking into the penthouse that doesn't feel like home, it's easy to see through to the room from the end of the hall. I won't make the mistake of allowing doors to take her from me again. I'm focused on making sure she's safe when someone touches my arm, the smell is wrong it's not my Angel.
Looking at the hand, it's not the delicate one I'm used to and the body attached to it doesn't fucking belong here. "Who the fuck are you?" The random fuck flinches at my tone but she recovers quickly and distorts her face in what's supposed to be seductive. It's turning my fucking stomach and my hand whips out wrapping around her throat when she doesn't answer. "Where is my wife?" If this cunt hurt her, someone else causing Maria pain I'll keep her alive to satiate my bloodlust only.
Her face turns red not allowing her to speak and she points over my shoulder towards the bedroom Maria refuses to fucking leave. Dropping the decrepit fuck, fear and anger have my steps pounding against the floor until I see she's safe and the latter wins out.
Maria sits on the bed, back against the headboard and ankles crossed primly as she flips through some bullshit like there's not some psychotic fuck outside. "Who is she?" Turning the page she ignores me. The act pissing me off more than the fucking intruder.
Grabbing her ankle, my angel floats down the bed still fixated on whatever is on those disinteresting pages. My hands aren't as gentle as they should be but there's no discomfort filtering through the mask in place. She looks healthier now that food is being consumed again but it's not enough and her clothes are still looser than they were. When she's laid flat, I lean my weight on my palm beside her head and let her see the anger burning. "I asked why there is a random fucking cunt in our home."
One eyebrow comes up and Maria looks at the empty door then back to me before lowering her voice so she's not heard. "She's yours, don't break your streak." Knife straight to the fucking gut. "Why?" Confusion fills her at my equally low question. She wants me to fucking hate myself more than I already do. Opening her mouth to spew more shit that isn't true I cut it off only able to hear so much. "Will you feel better if I do it? Will it make you happy to know I hate myself? Will you speak to me?"
The first real emotion slips through and her answer is worse than my assumption. "I can't give you what she can." Bullshit. It's all fucking bullshit designed to push me away so Maria can tell herself she's fucking helping me. A fake reality where I'd survive without her. Horror fills her eyes as I move closer and she stares at my lips pushing into the mattress. Stopping before we touch she doesn't relax and anger wraps itself around my words. "It's you or no one, I won't fucking cheat on you."
Reflecting it back to me, Maria's voice is low and deadly digging more blades into me. "Why? I did." My blood turns to ice, there's not a single fucking lie in her eyes. "Who?" I'll kill the bastard and make sure she never fucking leaves this penthouse again. A painful smile curls her lips and she shakes her head like I'm missing something. "Salerno, for weeks."
My voice is a broken whisper filled with nothing but emotion in the nearly silent sound. "No. You didn't Angel. You're mine and you always will be." Pushing against my chest I don't move and the angry whisper leaves her. "Go. Do what you need to do." Reaching around me she plucks up her earphones and the music is loud enough to be heard while they're in place. She's planned this, got herself accommodations to go through with it.
The thought of anyone touching Maria has me in a blind rage but she doesn't feel the fucking same. My wife went and found a fucking random acting like a wing woman when all I want is her. Not to sleep with, just next to. Niko's contact burns a hole in my pocket but the lies she's telling herself won't make it easy to get her into the therapists office.
Being dismissed doesn't make me move. I'm still staring into her face searching for a thread I can pull her back to me with when she looks up like I shouldn't be there. No place on earth is for me other than by her fucking side. "Go, she's waiting for you." Directing the last part to the paper it finally fucking sinks in, she doesn't give a fuck. It's not an act. Straightening to my full height, I turn to leave but the emotions stop me. Speaking over my shoulder I don't look at my angel, it'll break me more than it already is to see the truth I've been hiding from. "I've lost you, haven't I? You really do hate me." She can't fucking hear me anyway with the music drowning everything out I leave hatred filling me with every step.