Chapter 2 #3
After a long time, Amara slowly pushed herself up from the floor with trembling hands, but the moment her eyes landed on the bed, pain twisted through her chest again.
She couldn’t even bear to look at it.
That bed only reminded her of how empty their marriage truly was.
Instead, her bare feet stepped onto the cold marble floor as she slowly walked toward the couch beside the window.
The city lights glowed faintly outside the glass.
Amara curled herself up tightly on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest while silently staring outside the window for the rest of the night.
To her surprise, Elias returned home the next morning.
The bedroom doors opened quietly before he stepped inside.
His gaze immediately landed on her curled figure on the couch.
But only for a second.
Then he looked away just as quickly.
He casually tossed his phone onto the side table before sliding off his expensive watch and dropping it beside it. The sharp metallic clink cut through the silence of the room.
“This is the first time since we got married that you haven’t called me even once when I wasn’t home.”
His deep voice filled the room casually as if nothing had happened the night before.
Amara slowly lifted her swollen, red-rimmed eyes toward him.
Elias loosened his tie roughly with one hand while walking across the room, his movements calm and composed.
“You call me several times on the nights I don’t come home,” he said casually, not even looking at her as he pulled his tie loose and let it hang undone around his collar. “So what is it this time? Tired of fighting? Or are you still sulking?”
His gaze finally flicked toward her.
Their eyes met.
She was still wearing the same red dress from the night before. Her hair was messy, her eyes hollow, and her body sat stiffly curled on the couch.
Elias finally paused.
Something about her silence made his brows tighten slightly.
Then Amara finally spoke.
Her voice was soft.
Calm.
“It’s been a year since we got married.”
In the deathly quiet room, every word echoed painfully.
“Elias, I do everything you want,” she continued quietly. “I follow your rules. I accept everything you do.”
Her voice was slightly hoarse from crying all night, yet strangely emotionless now.
Like she had exhausted herself past the point of tears.
“I don’t understand what I’ve done to make you hate me this much.”
Elias’s body tensed almost invisibly.
His jaw tightened.
But his expression remained unreadable as he slowly slid both hands into his pockets and turned fully toward her.
“What exactly do you want from me, Amara?”
A pained expression instantly crossed her face.
Then she finally cried out weakly, “I want love, Elias!”
Her voice broke.
“Can’t you give me even a little of it?”
She slowly lowered her legs from the couch, her bare feet touching the cold floor while her trembling hands gripped the edge of the cushions beside her.
But her eyes never left his face.
Not even for a second.
“Is it really that hard,” she whispered brokenly, “to love your own wife?”
Tears gathered in her eyes again.
“Is it really that hard to touch me?”
Her voice cracked painfully.
“Is it that hard to spend one goddamn night with me like a real husband?”
He looked at her coldly.
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.
The words struck Amara so hard that for a second she stopped breathing.
Her lips parted slightly, and then a laugh escaped her throat—a broken, trembling sound mixed with tears. She shook her head slowly in disbelief while tears blurred her vision.
“Is it because you love someone else?”
Elias’s expression darkened instantly.
His brows furrowed sharply as he looked at her with visible irritation, his posture stiffening.
“Where the hell did you get that idea from?”
Amara stared at him for a moment before pushing herself off the couch.
Her bare feet hit the cold marble floor with a dull sound as she walked toward him. Each step was uneven, driven more by emotion than balance. Her chest rose and fell sharply, tears still sliding down her cheeks, but now there was something else behind them—something raw and angry.
She stopped right in front of him. Close enough that she could smell his cologne. Close enough that it only made everything worse.
“Then what do you even I am?” she cried out.
Her voice cracked at the edges, but she didn’t step back.
“A dog living under your roof, waiting for scraps of attention whenever you feel like throwing them my way?” Her breath hitched violently. “Or a whore begging her own husband just to be touched once in a while?”
“Amara!”
The name tore through the room like thunder. Elias’s voice was sharp, furious—enough to silence everything around them in an instant. A muscle ticked sharply in his jaw while his eyes burned dangerously. He took a step toward her instinctively, his height towering over her.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”
Amara flinched violently at the sudden fury in his tone.
Startled, she stumbled backward.
Her lower back slammed painfully against the sharp edge of the table behind her.
A gasp escaped her lips before her knees gave out and she fell hard onto the marble floor.
Her hip slammed painfully against the floor while her shoulder hit the table leg on the way down. The glass on the table rattled loudly from the impact.
“Ah—”
She sucked in a sharp breath, wincing immediately.
For a second she remained frozen on the floor, one trembling hand pressed against the cold marble while strands of hair fell messily over her tear-stained face.
Elias looked down at her.
His expression remained hard.
Burning.
“Aren’t you already my wife?” he said sharply. “Wasn’t that what you wanted from the beginning?”
His jaw tightened.
“You proudly call yourself Mrs. Creed everywhere, don’t you?”
Amara’s fingers curled tighter against the floor beneath her trembling hand. Her nails scraped weakly against the marble as if she needed something to hold onto to stop herself from completely falling apart.
She laughed.
A broken, bitter sound dragged through tears.
“Mrs. Creed?” she repeated softly, almost mockingly.
Slowly, she lifted her tear-filled eyes toward him. Mascara stained her cheeks. Her lips trembled uncontrollably as she stared at the man standing over her like a stranger.
“Is that supposed to make me feel grateful?”
Her voice shook harder with every word.
“Is that all I am to you? A woman you handed your last name to out of pity?”
A bitter laugh escaped her trembling lips.
“So you can stand there feeling generous for throwing a title at me like charity?”
Her tear-filled eyes locked onto his.
“Like I’m some beggar who should be thankful just because you let me call myself Mrs. Creed?”
She swallowed painfully, her breathing turning uneven.
“What do I actually have, Elias?”
Her voice cracked.
“Tell me… what do I really have as your wife?”
She pushed herself upright slightly, though her body still trembled badly. One hand clutched her chest while the other wiped furiously at the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.
Her eyes turned redder and redder.
“I gave up everything for you,” she whispered painfully. “Everything.”
Her lips quivered.
“My pride. My self-respect. Even my dignity.”
The humiliation in her voice became unbearable.
She looked away for a second, like even saying the next words aloud destroyed something inside her.
“I begged you to sleep with me.”
A tear slid down her chin and dropped onto the floor between them.
“Do you even understand how humiliating that feels?” she whispered brokenly.
Her voice cracked apart completely.
“I begged my own husband to touch me… to want me…”
She let out another shattered laugh, shaking her head weakly as more tears spilled down her face.
“Was even that still not enough for you?!” she screamed suddenly.
The sound echoed violently through the room.
Elias visibly stiffened.
His back went rigid. His shoulders locked. Every muscle in his body tightened as though her words had struck somewhere he refused to acknowledge.
Even the ticking clock on the wall suddenly sounded deafening in the silence.
Amara could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Slow. Weak. Breaking apart little by little.
Then her voice softened completely.
Almost like she no longer had the strength left to scream anymore.
She looked at him through blurred tears, her body shaking faintly as she whispered,
“What else do you want from me, Elias? Do you even see me as a human being?” she whispered brokenly. “Or am I just another thing you own?”
Elias’s jaw clenched hard. The tendons in his neck flexed visibly. The muscles in his shoulders tightened beneath his shirt while his fingers curled slowly at his sides.
But before he could answer—
“I want a divorce.”