3
Back at the villa, I sat on the sofa, lost in a daze.
John came home unusually early.
He stood in the entryway, his eyes meeting mine.
It was like seeing a ghost of my former self.
The wife who would sit in the living room, waiting late into the night for her husband to return.
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The wife who would smile and rush to help him with his coat and shoes.
“Honey, are you tired? I learned a new massage technique, would you like…”
For years, when I wasn’t teaching dance, my life had revolved around him.
An endless cycle that never earned me so much as a kind glance.
Now, stepping back and looking at it all from a distance, I felt like the world’s biggest fool.
Seeing my lack of reaction, John frowned.
“What are you thinking about? Running away?”
I almost laughed.
“And if I was? What would you do?”
He walked toward me, then suddenly pushed me down onto the sofa, deftly changing the subject.
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“You don’t like our son. Let’s have a daughter. A daughter would be quieter. She could keep you company. I
would make your life here easier.”
When I first married into the family, the staff saw how indifferent John was to me. Combined with my quie nature, they treated me like dirt, dumping all the hardest chores on me.
I had been so in love with him then, I never complained.
He saw my predicament, but he just watched, a cold, detached observer.
My thoughts snapped back to the present as he pulled down my nightgown.
His kisses fell on my skin.
Fierce and dominating, with a punishing edge.
But no matter what he did, I felt nothing.
I realized then that when you don’t love someone, your body doesn’t respond.
Losing interest, John got off me.
“Nora, I know your body. This isn’t how you should be reacting.”
He tilted my chin up, his eyes scrutinizing me.
“Tell me. Have you been with another man?”
John played around, but he was a possessive hypocrite. He couldn’t stand the thought of another man touc hing a woman he’d slept with. A security guard at the studio once complimented my dancing. John saw it The guard was fired the same day.
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I bit my lip, a bitter laugh escaping through the humiliation
“Yes. It’s exactly what you think. I’ve slept with every man at the studio. Are you going to have them all arres
ted?”
John’s eyes narrowed, his voice turning husky.
“Is that so?”
Suddenly, he swept me into his arms and carried me toward the bathroom.
He actually believed me.
“If you’re dirty, then we’ll just have to wash you clean.”
He threw me into the bathtub and turned the showerhead on my face, drenching me in ice-cold water.
Goosebumps erupted all over my skin.
I struggled, but I couldn’t break his grip.
The shock of the cold water triggered my PTSD.
The image of my parents’ plane crashing when I was thirteen flooded my mind.
I trembled, curling into a ball in the corner.
John thought I was faking it.
“Nora, don’t forget why you married me. You’re here to atone, not to live in luxury!”
There it was again. The same line he’d repeated countless times. Our entire relationship in a nutshell. Nine out of ten things he said to me were laced with malice.
Seeing my eyes glaze over, my body lurching toward the wall, John finally panicked. He pulled me out and laid me on the bed.
“What’s wrong? What’s happening to you…”
John, you’ve tormented me enough over the years. Let’s just let each other go!”
Rage consumed me.
grabbed the divorce agreement from the nightstand and threw it in his face.
He stared at the signature line, then snorted.
“In such a rush to divorce me. You have another man waiting, don’t you?”
I said nothing
He slammed the door on his way out.
