Chapter 2 #3
“Because it was!” My hands flew to my hair, clutching at the strands in frustration.
“I don’t know how else to make you understand what this felt like for me.
It wasn’t just about some business deal.
You made me feel small, like I don’t matter to you unless I’m serving some purpose for your career.
And I could even do that tonight, because you weren’t where you were supposed to be. Everyone saw it, too.”
Chris’s face tightened, and I could tell I had struck a nerve. “That’s not fair,” he muttered, but his voice lacked conviction. He was getting defensive now, and we both knew it.
I turned away from him again, unable to look at him any longer without feeling sick.
The anger was starting to mix with a sharp, familiar sting.
Hurt, betrayal, the dull ache of being second-best to his ambitions again.
The view of the city outside was a stark reminder of how distant I was from the simple life I had once imagined for myself, how far I had strayed from who I used to be before this life with Chris had taken me over.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” I whispered, not sure if I was talking about the fight or something bigger. Maybe I didn’t know myself. My fingers trembled as I clutched the fabric of my robe tighter around me.
Chris didn’t answer at first, his silence stretching taut between us like a piano wire about to snap.
I could feel his heat behind me, his presence looming in the bedroom’s stillness, each second ticking by amplifying the distance growing between us.
I wondered what he would say next, if he would finally offer the genuine apology I craved or simply double down on his justification, another lecture about business priorities that had become the constant refrain of our marriage.
The polished marble floor reflected the city lights in fractured patterns, making the room feel even colder than before.
After a moment, he walked closer, his dress shoes making soft, deliberate sounds against the stone, and I tensed, waiting for whatever words he might choose to either bridge this chasm or widen it further.
“Beth.” His voice was softer now, a little more urgent. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I just... I didn’t think it would affect you so much.”
I laughed dryly, a hollow, humorless sound in the vast, open space.
“Of course you didn’t.” The words were bitter on my tongue.
“You never think about how things affect me until after the fact, Chris. You don’t ever realize how the simplest things could make such an impact on someone else who isn’t you, who isn’t always concerned about their career. ”
His jaw clenched, a muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t realize it would bother you this much.”
“You never do,” I muttered, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me.
It wasn’t just tonight. It was countless nights, endless moments of being put aside for his business.
It was the gradual wearing down of my self-worth under the weight of his expectations, always having to be the perfect wife, the one who understood that his life came first, even if it meant my feelings were collateral damage.
I heard him take a deep breath, and his tone softened again, almost pleading now. “We don’t have to talk about it tonight. You’re exhausted. I’m exhausted.” He took a small step closer. “Let’s just go to bed.”
But even the thought of sharing that bed with him felt unbearable right now.
I didn’t want to feel the warmth of his body beside me, his quiet breathing filling the space while I lay awake replaying the night in my head.
The intimacy of being so close to him felt like a betrayal to myself after what had happened.
I didn’t want the comfort of his presence when all I could see was him standing with her, his attention elsewhere.
“No.” I said it firmly, shaking my head. “I can’t be near you right now.”
He froze, the weight of my words landing between us. “Beth, don’t.” The way he said it, with such finality, made me want to scream.
I turned to look at him again, my eyes stinging with the frustration I’d kept bottled up all night. “I’m serious, Chris. I can’t.” My voice cracked, the emotion I had tried so hard to suppress now bleeding through the edges. “I can’t keep doing this.”
He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine, as if trying to find something familiar in the space where I was quickly shutting him out.
I could see the conflict on his face, the tug-of-war between the man who cared about me and the CEO who was used to getting what he wanted. I wasn’t sure which one was winning.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll wait up in the study until you fall asleep.”
I nodded, a small, tired movement, and he stepped back, turning toward the door.
His posture was rigid, his disappointment palpable in the tension of his shoulders.
The door closed behind him with a soft, definitive click, sealing us apart, as if to punctuate the growing rift.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at the closed door long after he was gone.
I couldn’t believe that my night had ended this way.