Chapter 2 Don't Touch Me
744 Words
We got out of the car downstairs at our new place. A bright red sports car pulled up right beside us moments later.
The vehicle's door opened. Queenie walked over with a big bag in her hand, wearing her bridesmaid dress and grinning.
"I knew you two couldn't get things sorted out alone," she said. "I came over to help liven up the new house."
She slipped her arm through Randal's and pressed close to him, paying no mind to anyone else around.
"You must be tired, Randal," she said. "I'll go run you a bath."
Randal handed her the car keys naturally. "Nobody knows me like you do."
The two of them walked ahead comfortably, acting like they were the real owners of the home.
I trailed behind in my elaborate wedding dress. I felt forgotten, like some useless decoration.
Once we stepped inside, pregnancy discomfort mixed with anger burned in my throat.
I covered my mouth and rushed to the nearest guest bathroom to retch.
I rinsed my mouth and leaned against the wall as I came back out. Queenie was already directing Randal's friends to put all the belongings in place.
She leaned against the frame of the master bedroom door, carrying herself like the lady of the house, and spoke to me sharply.
"You're way too fragile for a bride," she said. "You're already sick right after we get home. Clearly, you aren't cut out to take care of others."
She pushed past me and headed straight for the master bathroom.
"I've been doing this for twenty years," she said. "I'm far better at it than she is."
Everyone in the living room snickered. Their laughter stung deeply.
I watched Randal. He only frowned and never said a word.
A sharp cramp twisted through my stomach. My face went pale, and I grabbed the sofa to steady myself.
Randal walked over to me. There was no trace of concern on his face—only quiet blame. "We can't let our guest do all the work. Go check if she's finished with the bath."
I froze where I stood.
He looked at me and repeated the words, as if this was completely reasonable. "Tell her to grab my pajamas while she's at it. She knows what I like."
In that instant, I felt like an intruder. I was just someone to order around, a servant.
This house was supposed to be mine, where I was the mistress. Yet I mattered less than a total stranger here.
The whole scene was absurd beyond words.
I did not move. I just stared at him coldly.
Randal's friends sensed the heavy tension in the air. They took their leave one by one.
Queenie stepped out of the master bedroom. She wore Randal's oversized T-shirt and shorts, shuffling around in his slippers.
I knew those clothes well. I'd bought them for him just days before, planning for us to wear them as matching couple pajamas.
"Why are you all leaving?" Queenie called out loudly. "We're supposed to party all night!"
One guy winked at her and joked. "Queenie, we won't hang around. We don't want to spoil your night."
Queenie let out a dismissive huff. She plopped down next to Randal and rested her legs casually across his lap.
"Night for what?" she said. "I know exactly what Randal's like. I'm staying here to keep an eye on him—can't let his child be exhausted."
As she spoke, she reached out and touched my flat belly.
Her cold touch made me tense up all over. I pulled her hand away instinctively.
"Don't touch me," I said.
Queenie stared in surprise for a second, then put on an exaggerated act. "Oh, look, the bride's mad now!"
She turned to Randal, her voice full of hurt. "Randal, I was just being nice, checking on her and the baby. Why does she act like this? Does she even want this marriage?"
Randal's expression turned dark instantly.
He tore his hand free from mine with such force that I stumbled backward.
"Phoebe, will you cut this out?" he snapped. "You've been giving my friends nasty looks since the wedding. Do you think I haven't noticed? Do you really believe I ever wanted to get married?"
His voice rose sharply, bitter and harsh. "It's always the baby, nothing but the baby! I thought from the very start that rushing into marriage because of a pregnancy was a terrible idea."
- Writer
