Marrying a Boxer | H.S.

Chapter 20

I stare at the dark ceiling. I feel like the bed I am laying on is swallowing me by the second. There is silence in the room, except by the soft snores of the sleeping man beside me. I turn to look at the digital clock beside the bed. 4:12 a.m. it reads. I sigh and remove the sheets from my body, cold air hitting my skin, eliciting goose bumps. I sit up, softly swinging my legs to the side. My feet touch the carpeted floor and I rise from the bed. My hands reach for the silky material of my robe, and I slip it on. The fabric is cold, my body shivers. Slowly, I walk toward the door and softly open it, stepping out.

My bare feet glide through the marble stairs as I make my way down. The house is dark, except for some moonlight coming through the windows in the living room. I head to the kitchen, rubbing my arms for some warmth. I will never understand why Harry likes to keep the heater off. Even when it's freezing. I search for the kettle and fill it with water. I could use some tea right now. Maybe it will help me rest. I lean back on the counter as I wait for the water to boil, and my mind wanders.

A month ago, Harry agreed to try to make this work. And I really thought he would try. I believed in his words like the naïve girl I am. Since that day, everything went downhill. It seems like every time we take a step forward, no matter how hard I try, he always moves ten steps back. It's almost as if he really did not want to make it work. Maybe he will try one or two days, and go back to being an arse for the rest of the month. I'm tired of it. I can't keep up with his mood swings. And the worst part of it all, is that no matter how bad he treats me, no matter how much I want to hate him... I just can't. My feelings for him grow every day. I love this man. And that's the worst part of it all. Loving him, and knowing he does not feel the same. Knowing that to him, this marriage is nothing but a burden. Nothing but an agreement our mothers made. I am nothing to him. I became his trophy wife. Someone who makes him look good out in the public. Someone he can show off to the media.

The kettle starts whistling, startling me. I grab a mug and prepare my tea. I sit on the small round table in the kitchen and sip on my tea, thinking about this twisted situation. I wish I could just shut down this feeling. That I could command my heart to stop loving him. I want to hate him. I want to treat him the way he treats me. I want to make him feel like he is nothing to me. But every time I look into his green eyes, my heart beats faster, my breath gets caught, and my body yearns for his touch.

I know I am pathetic for feeling this way. I know it is weak of me to feel like this. But I just can't help it. Why? Why, God? Why can't I get rid of this unhealthy love and just hate him?

My thoughts are interrupted by the sleepy voice of the man I am stupidly in love with.

"Scarlet? What are you doing here?" Harry stands by the kitchen door rubbing his eyes.

My heart flutters and I curse in my head. Why does he make me feel this way?! I take a deep breath before answering, "I... I could not sleep. Thought some tea would help."

His eyes squint at the kitchen lights and he purses his pink lips. "It's a bit chilly, you might catch a cold. Let's go back to bed, Sweetheart." He extends his right hand and I do not even hesitate to walk toward him and take it. He turns the kitchen light off, and kisses my forehead. My heart goes ballistic.

And just like that, the smallest part of rationality I had left vanished. All my thoughts and wishes of hating him dissolved, and I was left with my stupid love for him.