My Dream Marriage

For the past few days, I have been working on crafting my story. I chose the nonfiction category because I just have the right story. I have decided to write about what has happened to me in the last few weeks, the story about my parents’ death could do.Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

After, doing the housework, I immerse myself in my draft and carefully do what I think should be done to make my story standout. I normally use the computer in our room at the study area.

“You should at least eat something first before you get to your work. You are overworking yourself, here eat while you work,” Martha tells me one afternoon after I have finished cleaning the house and heading to the bedroom to do the needful.

“Thank you,” I take the plate of food and run upstairs. The deadline is less than two hours to go. I finished doing the draft with the outline so I just have to make the perfect manuscript and then submit it to their website.

I know my work is a masterpiece and when I look at it I am oddly satisfied with it. I want to give five myself, even if I won’t be the winner but for the first piece that has come out of my passion for writing, with many more to come.

I apload it and register into their website first before I could submit. Registration successful, now the submission but before I could press the ‘submit’ button, the door opens abruptly and Edward comes in successfully distracting me. He is home earlier than usual. What’s the occasion?

“What are you doing? I have never seen you use computer before,” he says, drawing closer to the study table. He comes to my side and looks on the screen of the computer. The file is displayed clearly on the screen and anyone can read whatever I have written.

“I was doing some writing, see,” I indicate the screen and he reads the manuscript for some seconds before looking into my eyes.

“Is it good? I want to be one of the competitors of the annual writing competition.”

“Oh? And what is the prize?”

“One thousand dollars for the winner and the runners up have their prizes too,” I say happily.

“So you want to tell me that you used my computer for such bullshit right? You want the whole country to know that my wife is competing for some cheap money, is that it? Neera, have you lost it?”

“It’s not like that, it’s just a writing competition, why are you blowing things out of proportion, Edward?”

“You are also using your parents’ death to seek sympathy from them right? Neera tell me right now, are you dissatisfied with this family and you are looking for a way out, right. Don’t I give you anything you want? Infact, delete this thing right now,” he says and moves his fingers inorder to erase it but I place all my fingers from both hands firmly on the keyboard to prevent him from doing so. The site disappears and the screen moves back to the previous draft that I had created. He pulls my fingers off the keyboard and makes sure that the draft is deleted. He seaches across any platform that I could have stored the file and he deletes everything.

“What have you done Edward, why are you doing this to me?” I ask with tears rolling down my cheeks. “Exactly what I should have done a long time ago. I never knew that you have been writing something so stupid. Don’t even ask anything because you have already seen everything for yourself. Thank goodness I came here just in time before you could spread such nonsense.”

“You are my husband and I love you Edward, why are you hellbent on making everything that I do seem invaluable?”

“Oh just keep your ‘i love you’ to yourself. You should be the last person to tell me and ask me that. I bet your father told you about what made you come here and get married to me. I don’t love you and I never will, get that into your small head. You should keep making sure this house is taken care of, don’t lose your focus and do things that don’t go well with me,” he says and opens a drawer on the table and retrieves a file.

“I am going back to Marina tonight to wrap up everything on my project. I will be back tomorrow evening. Be a good girl and don’t do anything stupid again, okay?” He leaves with the file and closes the door behind him.

Am I dreaming or something? I open the computer to try and see if there is hope for my story. I search everything but there is nothing. I have lost. There is no way I’m going to write such an amount of words in less than an hour. I only stare at the screen. My hard work for days has been lost in seconds.

Edward said that I am here not entirely for marriage but for the replacement of his dead aunt. He clearly doesn’t have any feelings for me and everything is like a joke to him. He doesn’t consider me as his wife, everything that I have done inorder to be seen as the submissive wife and a wife who respects her husband’s decisions doesn’t move him.

I lock the door and immerse in self pity that I never knew one day I could come to experience. I don’t have enough tears to cry right now and at the moment I just stare at the sheer curtains being softly blown by wind. I stare and the endless horizon through the window and the sun is slowly setting, the orange sky shining the glasses of the window.

Am I going to live like this? Like a slave who doesn’t even have a home? It is true that I lost my parents and I don’t have any thing to write home about. My home was sold and I didn’t even get a dime from it. I can’t even start thinking about leaving because where will I go to? I will have to stay here, maybe if I do things that don’t piss off Edward he could even grow to love me as well. I just have to be on his good side.

I don’t want to get out of this room. I don’t want to meet anyone right now because I don’t feel like talking to anyone right now. Here, in my own bubble of thoughts I find solace and peace of mind.

****

It is the next day and Martha has been calling me nonstop. I just told her that I was fine and I needed some time for myself, given I have never been allowed to leave this house. I just want to know how everything is going on and even visit my friends. I get to talk to them only on phone and nothing else. Everytime they ask about my wellbeing I only say anything between the lines of heeding to the doctor’s advice on my condition.

Minutes change into hours and now the day is almost over. I can feel cold creeping in and I lock the windows draw the curtains to block insects and wind from getting in.

I see the doorknob turn and then, “Neera, open this door,” Edward’s voice sounds from the outside. I hesitate and he waits for a moment before banging on it and commands, “open the damn door!” I had vowed to not get into his bad books so I decide to open it.

“What the hell were you doing that you couldn’t have opened the door?” He asks getting in with a bag in his hand. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? Anyway I brought something for you,” he says and moves closer to me and hands me the bag. “I’ll be in the shower. You can take a look, go on,” he says and saunters towards the bathroom.

Inside the bag I find a bar of chocolate and a handbag. This is like a mockery to me, I don’t even like chocolate and I don’t even go out, what am I supposed to do with the handbag? I place the chocolate back into bag and place it on the coffee table at the far end of the room and decide to give it to Martha later. I take the fancy handbag and place it on one of the shelves in the closet.

He comes into the closet and I almost bump into him on my way out. He holds my hand and looks into my eyes. “You look grumpy. Look, I brought these things to cheer you up. I am sorry for the way I talked to you yesterday.” Edward is saying sorry? This word that he seemed to have forgotten about its existence, he has recalled it today and now he is saying it to me? Wow, just wow. I look into his eyes and his eyes are blank, it’s so hard to read his expressions, and I have never known how he switches his moods so quickly.

He brings his face closer to mine and connects his lips to mine. I try to reciprocate but the memory of him telling me that I only came here to replace his dead aunt replays in my mind. I move my lips away and he gasps at my sudden reaction. “I can’t do this Edward,” I say not daring to look into his eyes. “May I know why?” “I just can’t,” I don’t want to tell him that the memory of yesterday can’t allow me to. His words are still clear in my ears, as clear as day.

“Just that? I know what this is all about. You want him right? You seem to enjoy it more when you are with him. Now I understand.”

“Who are you talking about, Edward?” I don’t understand what he is saying right now.

“So you want to say you don’t remember him right? Don’t you remember the day you sneaked out of this house, like one or two weeks ago to go and meet him? Even after I gave you clear instructions not to leave the house you still went ahead and left. Do you love him?” How can he ask if I love Aniston. The time that we have spent together is not even enough for me to be able to fall in love with him. Even during these times, we only talked about things that are not even close to intimacy or even romance. I don’t even know if he has a girlfriend or even married.

“Edward, how can you say that? I told you he is just a friend and that day it was only a coincidence that I met him at the cemetery. I had only gone to visit my parents.”

“So you want to use your dead parents as an excuse, right? You are so despicable Neera. I thought you learnt from that incident in Marina but no, you are so adamant in keeping your friendship with him. What do you want, tell me. Or do you want him?” He raises his voice, probably making his assumptions loud and clear.

“I swear I am telling you the truth.”

“Don’t swear on me woman. Do you love him?” He repeats his question.

“What? I…”

He raises his hand to stop me. “I don’t want to hear it. I know the answer already. You have proven to be hardheaded than you should be. Now tonight, I want to show you who the real man is between me and him.” He says letting the towel that he had wrapped around his waist fall freely on the floor.

He carries me to the bed and I don’t even fight him. I only let him do whatever he wants with me. He is my husband after all so it is only fair for him to exercise his conjugal rights.