'...and then the boy was swallowed by the Ghost Of Time.
The End'
That was the last line of acclaimed author William Ray's debut novel, 'The House Of Time'. It was an average-sized work. A total of five hundred pages preceded by a hardcover on top. The cover was simple - a house in a dark background with the words 'The House Of Time' and 'William Ray' styled in various fonts and colours. William remembered it clearly because it was designed by his long time friend who had started as a mere acquaintance, Charlie Devon. Charlie was a short, brown-haired guy in his early thirties, a few years older than William who was nearing the age of twenty-eight soon. Charlie had a moustache that covered his upper lip completely and his small eyes were nothing compared to William's bright blue ones. Charlie's face was round and he had a pleasant aura that engulfed him, but William was different.
William's sharp features and his dark blond hair gave him the countenance of a handsome young man. Yet, when you had a chance to finally meet the guy beneath the long eyelashes and bright blue eyes, you would realize that he wasn't the kind of man he often described as the 'ideal' one in his books. It was assumed to be a sign of his inability to comprehend mortal emotions like most around him did. It was concluded to the better judgement of humans of adequate intelligence that William Ray was nothing more than someone who could wield a pen like great knights wielded swords. He was signed off as rude, arrogant and damaged without any particular cause by anyone who had the chance of being in his company for ten seconds.
No-one knew why William was like this; he liked to keep his life very private. Once when he was asked about his marriage, he had refused to answer the question, dodging it with an air of ignorance. William Ray didn't like giving interviews. The habit started on a rather peculiar incident when once, in an interview with the local newspaper, he was asked why he had written a book on time as a villain. He had failed to answer. Since then, he refused to be a part of any more 'inconvenient conversations' as he termed them. His only social life involved him writing and publishing his novels and the rest was done by his manager, Duncan Jones and team. He was scheduled for a quiet life which consisted of writing, drinking, eating and enjoying erotic pleasures with his wife.
His wife, Eliza Eleanor Ray, was beautiful, smart, brilliant and from William's point of view - a naive woman. William, although being an author, had no words to describe why he felt such indifference towards his wife. She was, after all, a pretty woman, only two months younger than him. Her brunette hair was waist length and fell perfectly on her shoulders. Her green eyes shone and her bright smile that enhanced the beauty on her small and amiable face made William almost blind when he saw it every day. She was a beaming ray of sunshine while he was an eclipsed moon and he still wondered, even after a year of their marriage, what did she see in him that she and her father went crazy to have him as her groom.
He didn't even want to get married in the first place. It was his damned parents who had forced him into this 'unfortunate event' of his life. The only people William felt more withdrawn from other than Eliza was his inconsiderate parents, who didn't even care to ask about his feelings before pushing him into this mess of a relationship.
It wasn't like William didn't get any benefits from this marriage. His wife was elegant and had a superior sense of pride that wasn't prominent in any other author's wife in their quiet town. She had a petite figure and long legs which he didn't mind wrapped around him, and her scent was delicious. It was something that sent him crazy every time he was near her and she definitely knew how to take advantage of it.
Whenever they fought, all Eliza had to do was brush her knees against his legs and the very next moment they would be on their bed. William would be on top of her, kissing and devouring every inch of her. The argument would be long forgotten by the time they were done with each other.
That was another reason why he didn't argue with her; he knew it would end with him going down on her, and he hated the weak feeling that tugged at his chest when she made fun of him for that very matter.
It wasn't like William was a bad husband. He respected his wife and he always made sure to check up on her to see if she was safe and sound. Once, when she had caught a fever, he had spent the whole night taking care of her and making sure she had everything she needed. When morning dawned, Eliza's temperature had gone down a great degree and she thanked him with a peck on the lips. He didn't want to let go and turned it into a proper kiss but when his hand slid up her skirt, he stopped as soon as he realized that she was still ill and needed rest. With all these instances as evidence, William didn't think of himself as a bad husband. He was good, good enough for her.
Maybe that was the reason Eliza was so devoted to him. She was always busy taking care of him, making sure he was happy and satisfied, both in bed and outside. She ironed his clothes fresh, she cooked his favourite meals and once he had even dared to ask her why she did it.
"What's your game, little witch? Killing me with kindness?" he had asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned against the kitchen counter and watched her bake a cake.
With a sly smile on her lips, she replied, "Maybe."
Wicked — William thought.
He was upset with his wife for being nice to his 'obvious' lack of affection. She should have left him by now. She should have realized what kind of a sick mistake she had made and should have been packing her bags back to her father's house. A father who lived just a mile from their own shelter; he had followed his daughter after her wedding when his daughter expressed disapproval at his staying all alone.
But she was here. Every morning he woke up praying to God for her to be gone and be free, but she wasn't gone; she was always here and often woke up in his arms. His mornings started with a small smile and a kiss on his cheek from Eliza before she rushed towards the bathroom to get ready for her daily chores, leaving her sweet scent behind. William often perceived that perhaps the only thing he would miss after she was gone was that delicious scent, but he never got a chance to experience that loss.
He had considered initiating a divorce but never had the courage because his parents would have been furious if he did that. They loved Eliza and adored her like she was their only child, not William. He was so jealous of her sometimes that he wouldn't even go with her to his own parents' house, three blocks from his own. All because he didn't want them to throw him 'those' glances.
A few days back, William had caught Eliza reading a bunch of papers that she had kept hidden somewhere. They were old and torn. He tried to catch a glimpse of them but she had spotted him at the right time and hid it behind her back. He didn't get a chance to read them.
"Who are they from? Lover?" he had questioned.
"No," she had replied, this time with no smile.
He didn't push the matter; he was happy instead. He wished that those were love letters and that Eliza was having an affair. He would no longer have to be the bad guy then and Eliza would initiate the divorce herself. His parents would no longer blame him and they would be free. He would be free if his wife were indeed having an extra-marital affair.
Now his parents were dead; they died of cardiac arrest. Both of them, together. It was an extraordinary event that people termed as 'soul mates'. William thought it was his devastating luck because although he had a rough relationship with his father, he had admired his mother.
That was two weeks ago and as he walked home, William finally managed to gather the courage to tell Eliza that he wanted a divorce. He had it all planned - he would tell her that she deserved better, that he wasn't a family man, that he no longer wanted to be with her and it would be better for both of them to end this once and for all.
It was a big day. He was going to rip the band-aid. He was going to be free.
Those were the thoughts that went on William's mind as he reached the gate of his house. With a deep exhale, he opened it with his speech ready in his mind.
Little did he know of what waited for him inside.