Chapter 19 – Marielle
“Oh, hey! I didn’t know you were back,” I said on sighting Eduard inside the study.
Still in his work suit, he stood by the window, hand in pocket, his head turning toward me.
His face was void of expression, and his lips were tight, the direct opposite of the Eduard who smiled at me just a few days ago.
“Just got back,” was his cold response.
I felt an all-too-familiar ache within me. It made me want to turn around and leave. I wanted to protect myself from what I desperately hoped wasn’t happening. But I couldn’t bring myself to leave.
He didn’t look away as I walked toward him.
“Rough day at work?” I questioned.
Looking up at him, I tried to get a clearer read on his mood.
I couldn’t feel any of the calmness he always tried to show whenever he withdrew from me. He blinked, and I couldn’t tell if it was my mind that made up the flicker of pain I saw in his eyes for a millisecond. Still, the space between us wasn’t insignificant.
“Hm,” he muttered in response, lips not moving.
I stepped into the space between him and the window.
He stepped back.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, my voice persuasive.
“I’ve got something to do,” he revealed, turning away.
I sighed as he walked out the door.
Last night was a similar moment. I reached for him, and he turned away. I chalked it up to him being completely exhausted and my tendency to misjudge things when I was half-asleep. I assumed he didn’t mean to make me feel unwanted, and that I just felt that way because I was used to expecting it.
Is that still the case?
The answer didn’t come when he kept to his side of the bed later that night. I was still none the wiser about what exactly was going on between us.
Or am I choosing not to see it?
As I went downstairs the next morning, I pondered.
I considered what made me think this new coldness from Eduard was any different from the former times. I wondered if I was just overthinking.
I didn’t know if I was reading too much into ordinary things because I was anticipating distance from him.
The other night, he apologized, and we made up.
It was too real, too intense for me not to expect an even bigger distance.
Sleeping with his arms tight around me was too amazing for me to think it would go on like that.
Maybe I was selfishly misjudging Eduard.
On the other hand, I could just be making excuses for him.
Maybe I was guarding myself, my heart, from accepting the same type of hurt again.
Maybe I was holding on tight to the hope that he wasn’t distancing himself from me again.
I had seen it in other people, so I knew it was possible that I was trying to call his behavior everything else except withdrawal.
Maybe I didn’t want to be the one to be withdrawn from again.
I could tell every other person that Eduard’s attitude meant nothing to me. But I’d be lying. It felt important for me to know what was wrong with him. I didn’t want to just ignore it or act unaffected this time.
The plethora of thoughts crossing my mind was enough to trigger a headache. For now, that chapter should be closed.
“Hello, Mrs. Yezhov,” Sofia greeted, grinning, as usual.
“Please,” I uttered, joining her by the first kitchen island.
“Good morning. You’re down early today,” Agatha pointed out, turning around from the food she was stirring.
“Didn’t notice,” I answered casually.
Mila entered the kitchen with a handful of white and blue napkins.
“Good morning, Mrs. Yezhov,” she greeted, her voice low.
“Good morning, Mila.”
I made an effort to give her a smile.
“Please, drop the Mrs. Whatever,” I added.
“He has chosen to marry you; we have no choice,” she insisted, her face straight.
I wished I could tell her she didn’t have anything to be jealous or pained about.
“Breakfast will be ready soon,” Agatha announced.
“Actually,” I started. “I was thinking of cooking. Sofia isn’t so busy, right? She can teach me something simple while you go on with breakfast.”
“Oh, no. You can’t cook,” Agatha disclosed, her tone gentle. “We’ll be in real trouble if you do anything more than light assistance in here.”
“What? I’m not some fragile glass bowl.”
“Sir Eduard has left. We can make something without any of the men knowing,” Sofia pointed out.
“I’ll keep my eyes on the door,” Mila volunteered, her eyes on Sofia, who gave her a smile like there was an unspoken conversation between them.
“Okay, but…be careful. Anyway, I’m not going anywhere,” Agatha yielded.
Sofia turned to me. “What did you have in mind? I can make lots of American meals and snacks.”
“I was thinking of Russian, actually.”
“Hmm, more to Sir Eduard’s side,” she remarked, a teasing smile on her face.
“I’m now surrounded by you Russian folks, and I eat many Russian delicacies. I just want to try something new,” I explained, not that it fazed Sofia.
“Let’s make Blini! You’ll love them; they are like pancakes,” she suggested.
“No!” Agatha countered from the gas cooker she stood over. “Nothing that has to do with frying or hot oil at all. What if something burns her? Would you explain to Sir Eduard?”
“It’s not really frying,” Sofia persisted.
“Still. Think of something else,” Agatha said.
“Let’s make pryanik, then,” Sofia told me.
“Not like I know what that is,” I replied.
“They are cookies. Gingerbread cookies that are spicy. Then we’ll sprinkle chopped nuts on them. Or fruits, candied fruits.”
“Sounds sweet. Let’s do it.”
So, twenty minutes later, Agatha and Mila were serving the men’s breakfast while Sofia and I got down to our business.
I was mixing the dry ingredients in a large bowl while Sofia stood facing me, mixing honey, sugar, and oil in her bowl. Then she broke an egg into the mix and started whisking.
“It’s time to add it here,” Sofia noted, pointing to her bowl.
“Alright,” I drawled, slowly emptying my bowl into hers.
She effortlessly mixed the dough, kneading the massive lump with practiced and perfected skill.
Rolling it out, we started cutting it into shapes.
“You like these nuts? We could use only the candied fruits,” she asked.
“Sure. I’m not allergic to nuts or anything.”
“Should we use both? You’ll like it, I promise,” she asked, smiling.
“Sure.”
We were moving our handiwork into the large, preheated oven in another five minutes.
“Twelve minutes start now,” Sofia stated, taking a seat.
I did the same.
“So, are you and Sir Eduard planning to have kids soon? Or not yet? I prefer when couples enjoy each other for a few years before bringing children into the picture,” Sofia rambled.
“Sofia!” I called, laughing. “Are you sure a restaurant is your dream? I think it should be something along the lines of writing romance.”
“Aren’t those things married people talk about?” she defended, grinning.
The sweet scent of the little baked delights filled the kitchen before we brought them out of the oven.
And they tasted like heaven.
“I’ve not had pryanik in years,” Agatha revealed, sipping her warm tea. “Tastes perfect. You both did well.”
“Of course, what did you expect?” Sofia boasted.
“I could teach you something else next time,” Mila offered.
“I’ll hold you to that!” I replied, pleasantly surprised to see the ghost of a smile on her face.
As the four of us enjoyed the cookies and tea around the kitchen island, I thought back to Eduard. And Sofia’s question. I wondered if Eduard and I would ever get to the stage of making such future plans. Or we’d keep swinging this unstable pendulum, too busy going back and forth to look ahead.
***
That night, I brought some of the pryanik to our bedroom. I had hoped to tell Eduard that I made them with Sofia while he was eating them. I wanted to see him smile about my making a Russian delicacy because I was beginning to see myself as a part of the family.
There was also the not-so-tiny bit of uncertainty. I sat on the couch, reading a book as I waited for his arrival. But with each passing moment, I deliberated going to bed to save myself the disappointment of him ignoring me.
The door finally opened some minutes past 10:00.
When he got close enough, his eyes went to the bed before darting over to the couch I occupied.
“Hi,” I greeted softly, looking up from the book like I hadn’t been waiting for him.
“How are you?”
Who on earth asks their wife ‘How are you?’
“I’m okay. How was work?”
“Fine,” he answered, already going into the closet.
No hugs? No smiles?
Calm down, Marielle.
He’s not used to all that.
When he emerged in pajama pants and a white T-shirt, I stood, taking the snacks with me.
“I made them. With Sofia, though. I left these for you,” I expressed, meeting him at the foot of the bed.
He didn’t look at the snacks in my hand. Then his eyes left my face altogether.
“Maybe later.”
My shoulders slumped.
“Eduard…” I uttered, rising on my toes to bring my lips to his.
Just when I thought he wouldn’t move away, he side-stepped. He was out of the bedroom before I turned around.
The impact was too intense for me to process.
I dropped the pryanik on the stool and went to bed.
The look on Eduard’s face was on my mind when I woke up the next morning.
He looked like someone who had been wronged. He had totally changed toward me, but it wasn’t just distance; I was sure of it.
I sat up against the headboard, my mind spinning with possible reasons for Eduard to be angry toward me. I thought of what I might have done to annoy or upset him and came up with nothing. I couldn’t remember him asking me to do something, anything.
Maybe it’s not me.
Then I remembered how vulnerable he seemed when he asked me for patience, when he told me he wasn’t a simple man.
My resolution when I left the bed was to give him the grace he asked for.
***
If I were called desperate, I wouldn’t deny it.
As I waited for him to get back, I was clad in the scarlet silk robe Eduard had gotten for me the week before. Beneath it was nothing but my black lace lingerie.
When he stepped inside the bedroom, I stayed by the entrance of the closet. The element of surprise was one of the tips I found in the book I had recently read on seduction.
I strutted toward him when he got to the foot of the bed.
I licked my lips as his eyes landed on me. Too determined to let the cold look in his eyes deter me, I leaned closer, my hand sweeping over his chest.
“Hello, husband,” I slurred, my eyes not leaving his.
Eduard took a step back and removed my hand.
I was confused and hurt, but anger was preeminent.
I pushed his chest with all the force I could gather without thinking.
“You all are the same. You, Lucien, all of you. You’re all two-faced, cold bastards,” I bit out, my voice low but venomous.
I pushed his chest again, and instead of him falling to the bed like I hoped, the force only made his upper body falter a bit.
“I hate you!” I yelled, angrily blinking away the tears in my eyes as I walked away from him.
His large arms came around my wrist before I took a second step. He shoved me against his chest, almost stopping my breathing. My heart beat rapidly, my desire now stained with fear.
“The full picture is bigger than you think; betrayal can be the simplest thing,” he chided through clenched teeth.
What the hell does that mean?
I yanked myself free with a grunt and left him standing there, the flash of pain beneath his fury haunting me.
I violently wiped the angry tears that left my eyes with the back of my palm.
I held my robe close to my body as I barreled down to the study.
His rejection stung like a bitch.
Thinking that I kept reaching out to him shattered my pride. It was painful how he looked at me like we were strangers.
I banged the study door as I went in, not in the least concerned that it was night. I was about to sit on one of the chairs at the far end of the room when I heard the shattering of glass.
A hand came over my mouth as I turned toward the broken window.
Oh, no!
I didn’t know whether the blunt pain I felt was on the back of my head or my neck. All I felt was the heaviness before all went dark.