20 | I know I've failed her
I don't know why I'm still surprised by the things she does, but when I hear the door slam behind her, something in my gut twists, pulling me forward before my mind has even caught up with the thought.
Aurelia.
What the fuck is she doing? Why did she throw boiling water in her mother's face?
I've seen her angry before, I've seen her in pain. I've seen her breakdown in ways no one should. But this? This is different. This is something else.
I follow her up the stairs, barely even thinking about it, only feeling the gnawing sense of urgency in my chest. Her fury is palpable, an electric rush in the air that makes my skin crawl.
She's gone too far this time, and I need to understand why.
I know her mother humiliated her, and that's something that should never have happened. That's the only reason I invited her here, to make it clear that she couldn't treat my wife like that. But I can see now that Aurelia took it all the wrong way, and I can't blame her for that.
The maids are taking care of Aurelia's mother while I rush to catch up with my wife just as she storms into the bedroom, and I don't wait, no hesitation. I barge in behind her, slamming the door closed before she can shut me out.
"Aurelia!" I call out, my voice rougher than I intend. "What the fuck are you doing?"
She doesn't flinch. She doesn't even turn around. Her back is to me, her whole body trembling, and the only sound is her heavy breathing that fills the room.
"Why did you throw water at your own mother?" I ask, trying to steady my voice.
For a moment, it's quiet. Too quiet. The only thing I hear is the sound of her breath, shallow and rapid. And then, like a switch being flipped, she spins on her heel, her eyes flashing with something wild.
I barely have time to react as she grabs the vase from the nearby table, and in one swift motion, she throws it at me.
The vase flies through the air, and for a split second, I think I'm going to be hit. But I move, my body reacting faster than I can think, and I dodge just in time.
The vase crashes against the wall behind me, shattering into pieces, and she doesn't even look at the mess she's made. She's just standing there, staring at me like she could kill me with just a glance.
I feel my chest tighten with frustration.
"You're fucking mentally ill," I snap, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
It's the only thing I can say that makes sense in my head right now. It's the only way I can even begin to understand the chaos she's throwing at me.
Her laugh is cold, devoid of humor.
"You already know that," she spits, stepping closer, her eyes filled with a seething rage that makes my insides churn. "I warned you. I told you I was the ill sister. But you didn't listen, did you? You thought I would be like Ciara and suck your dick like a good girl, right?"
The words hit me like a slap to the face. I knew she was broken. I knew she had her demons, but I never truly understood how deep they ran, how deeply they pushed her.
She doesn't wait for a response. In one simple motion, she grabs a picture frame off the wall, her hands shaking with the same ferocity that's tearing through me. She throws it at me with all the strength she can muster, and it nearly misses my head, crashing into the wall beside me.
"Fuck you!" she yells, her voice raw with emotion. "You never understand, do you? You never fucking take my side!"
I feel my jaw clench. She's right. I've never taken her side, not in the way she needed me to. I've been so wrapped up in this thing we have, this mess that was supposed to be a marriage, that I've neglected her. I've failed her in ways I can't take back.
"Would you think differently if I invited the person who humiliated you?" she yells, her voice dripping with venom. "Would you give me a kiss and shower me with compliments? No. You would fucking kill me."
Her words stab through me like a dagger.
I did invite her mother here because the woman needed to know her place, she needed to know that Aurelia was my wife, and she couldn't throw wine whenever she wanted, she had to respect Aurelia, and if she didn't, next time I would kill her, simple as that.
But I never thought about what it would do to Aurelia by inviting the woman into our home. I never thought about how it would feel for her, to watch the woman who tore her apart sit comfortably in our home.
I don't have a response for her. I don't know how to explain the mess of guilt and anger and confusion that's swirling inside me.
Before I can even think, she takes another step forward, her hands raised like she's about to throw something else at me. Something heavier.
I can't let her do it.
I step forward quickly, grabbing her wrists before she can act. Her body tenses under my touch, but she doesn't fight me, not fully. She's shaking, her chest rising and falling with every ragged breath she takes.
She's furious. She's breaking, and I'm the one who's letting it happen.
"Aurelia," I say, my voice low, softer than I expect. "Calm down. Please."
She doesn't calm. She just stands there, her body rigid in my grip, her eyes burning with something I don't think I can put out.
And then I see it. The nails. Her fingers are bleeding, bruised, torn apart from the way she's been picking at them, biting them down until they've started to split open.
My heart sinks in my chest.
"Aurelia..." I whisper, my voice cracking. "Are you... are you harming yourself?"
She scoffs, pulling away from me with a violent jerk, her eyes flashing with something I can't quite place.
"Fuck off," she spits, her voice thick with a mix of contempt and pain.
I stand there, my hands still trembling as I watch her, my mind scrambling to make sense of it all. I should be angry. I should be furious that she's acting like this, throwing things, tearing herself apart. But all I feel is guilt.
I know I've failed her.
I know I've failed her in the worst possible way.
I should've been there. I should've seen the cracks in her before it was too late.
But now? Now, she's slipping further away from me, and all I can do is stand here, paralyzed by the wreckage this marriage has become in such a short time.
She shakes her head, her face twisted with disgust. "You don't get it. You never fucking get it. You don't even see me."
I try to reach out to her again, but she pulls away, stepping back from me like I'm the enemy. Like I'm the reason she's falling apart.
But I am.
I am the reason.
And now I'm paying for it.
I don't know what to do anymore.