When I Married You

HE DOESN’T LOVE ME

"We should start heading back now." He said, even before the reception was over. I was just getting to feel relaxed and kind of happy.

The wine glass I was sipping almost dropped from my hand and my eyes bulged in astonishment.

"But the reception is just starting, can't we stay a little longer?" I asked and at that moment I regretted asking that question because

He shot me a fearsome look like he was a lion, and he just couldn't wait to jump out and devour me.

I shrink and wish I could vanish, "So you are now starting to argue with me just hours after our wedding, is that not it?"

"No," I said in a whisper, and looked down at my feet.

I had been expecting him to introduce me to some of his business associates and friends, but he didn't.

I wasn't bothered about that though, but I was kind of hurt.

It felt like I wasn't even married to him in the first place, as if I was given to him for free.

I stood up as instructed and scanned through the sea of faces, to see if I could see Dad and my stepmom, but they were nowhere to be found.

Then I saw them on the dance floor dancing their life away like they were the ones who had just gotten wedded.

I waved at them hoping they had come and given me a goodbye kiss, but they looked away and danced like they had won the lottery.

I died and was walking away when I stopped and turned to see him watching me with a look that was meant for the devil.

"Where are you going ?" He asked me in a deep voice that melted me away.

I looked at the tall man standing behind me who I thought was the one to push the wheelchair for him.

"Come and push this damn chair." He roared, his tone etched with anger.

The rest was history as I took him to the car and soon the car was racing through the streets to his house.

The fact that I was sitting down close to him made me almost lose my sanity, he wasn't even giving me any attention and his eyes were fixed on his phone until the car approached a magnificent gate that opened automatically.

Taking him out of the car was kind of difficult, but I had to do it.

We went into the mansion, and he barked an order to the guard to take him to his room.

"Your room is to the left," he said to me.

I didn't understand what he meant by that until I woke up the next morning to surprisingly find myself alone in bed

It wasn't the alarm that woke me up. I guess it had rung and fell to the ground, but I overslept.

The right side of the bed was unrumpled as if no one had slept on that side for years and that was when I knew he hadn't come into the bedroom.

And that was when I knew the meaning of what he said that my room was on the left.

I was thinking that as newly wedded we were supposed to be in the same room.

I stared at my pajamas and exhaled deeply, and I took a long look at the beautiful room which I was in.

It was so loud and magnificent, something that was befitting for a queen.

I had forgotten that I was married and that yesterday was my wedding.

I thought I was still back in my father's house when the sight of my wedding dress tossed on the floor in my anger and sadness caught me.

I stood up from my bed, letting go of the anger I was feeling in myself and accepting my duties as his wife.

I was going to prove to him that I would stay by his side and become a virtuous wife.

I made my way to the kitchen and prepared a quick breakfast.

I was kind of surprised to find the kitchen empty and while I was hoping lots of maids would be there hopping around, trying to prepare something, it felt like we were the only ones in the whole mansion.

In a few minutes, I prepared freshly brewed coffee, toast, and omelet.

I was quite sure he was going to like it so much.

And as I walked up the stairs, I suddenly stopped and was confused, my eyes never leaving the corridor as it darted back and forth, and I tried to remember which way he had gone last night.

Which way led to his room, I pushed my legs forward with the tray holding them tight.

I was a bit clumsy and I didn't want him to get angry.

Four rooms in all, and I played a game in my head to get to his room.

Finally, it stopped at a room whose door was painted gold with beautiful carvings.

I knocked once and pushed it open.

Viola!

He was there impeccably dressed and clean-shaven. He was looking as bright as the morning sun and was ever handsome.

His head bent down to read through some files and documents, and he never lifted it to look at me.

"You should have waited for me to ask you to come in. "

"I can go back and knock again," I said, smiling, trying to sound so funny and lift the tense-up moment, but instead he gave me a look, a funny one, and I looked like I had escaped from an asylum with the way he was looking at me.

He rolled his eyes and returned to the files he was going through.

"I..."

"What do you want ?" he said, immediately cutting me off.

"I prepared breakfast and..."

"And so..." he asked rudely and impatiently, staring at me like I was a 5-year-old.

I cleared my throat nervously, "I wanted to give you breakfast in bed."

"I have taken breakfast," he said again, cutting me off again.

"But.."

He lifted his eyes and looked at me.

"Go and take your bath, you smell."