Marriage Built On Lies And Manipulation

Chapter 3

I step into the conference room, the air still smelling faintly of fresh coffee and paper. Mr. Collins sits by the window, sunlight cutting across his desk. He’s been a good boss to me since I joined LuxeView Media—kind, fair, and always patient. In his forties, with a calm face and warm voice, he’s one of those rare people who make work feel like home.

“Good morning, sir,” I greet with a bright smile.

“Oh, see who we have here—our newly wedded bride!” he says, grinning. “I’m honestly surprised you came to work today. I thought you’d still be enjoying your honeymoon.”

I chuckle lightly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. Before I can speak, he continues, “You know, Aria, I’ve always admired how diligent you are. Most people would still be on a beach somewhere, but not you. You’re such a rare gem to this company.”

I smile softly. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot.”

Mr. Collins nods, then picks up a file from his desk. “Here, this came in this morning.” He hands me a brown envelope. “This is evidence from the woman who claimed her husband abused her.”

The moment that word—*abused*—leaves his lips, my hand freezes mid-air.

It’s like the word itself has teeth, and it bites deep into me, reminding me of the bruises my soul hides.

He doesn’t notice my silence at first. “She wants her story published,” he explains gently. “She said she hopes people can learn from what she went through.”

“Okay, sir,” I reply quietly, my voice trembling despite my effort to sound calm.

Mr. Collins narrows his eyes slightly, studying my face. “Are you alright, Aria?”

“I’m fine,” I lie quickly.

He smiles again, reassuring. “You’re a good soul, Aria. I can see this story hit you deeply, and that’s why I want you to lead this project. You understand emotion and pain more than anyone I know. To be sincere, I’m glad you came to work today—no one can do this better than you.”

I force a smile, hiding the storm inside me. “Trust me, sir. I’ll see it through successfully.”

Inside, I’m shaking. Every word he said feels like a mirror reflecting my own life—the silent war I’ve been living in the marriage I just stepped into.

As I leave his office, Tessa, my colleague and closest friend, looks up from her desk. “Aria, you don’t look okay,” she says softly.

I put on my brightest smile. “I’m fine. The woman’s story just... got to me.”

Tessa sighs. “Men these days are unbelievable. Imagine a man beating the woman he legally married! That’s why I’m still single. I’d rather wait for the right man—someone like your husband.” She smiles dreamily. “You’re lucky, Aria. Sebastian seems like a good man.”

My heart twists painfully, but I force a small laugh. “Your own is coming soon.”

Mr. Collins steps out of his office then, holding another file. “Aria, have you submitted your project for the promotion?”

“Not yet, sir. I just finished reviewing it.”

“Well, make sure you submit it before you close for the day,” he says, smiling. “We all know this promotion belongs to you—you’ve worked hard for it.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say sincerely. “I’ll submit it before I leave.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replies kindly. “You deserve it.”

Tessa nods. “Exactly. You’ve been working like a machine. Everyone knows this promotion is yours.”

I smile again, grateful for her friendship—but also aware of how easily she reads me. That’s why I’ve learned to wear my mask so perfectly. Around Tessa, I must always look fine. Otherwise, she’d ask the kind of questions I can’t answer.

By 3:30 p.m., the office is quiet. My eyes drift toward the clock again and again. My body’s still here, but my mind has already gone home—home to the cold silence that has replaced warmth, to the man who stopped looking at me with love the same night we said our vows.

When it’s finally closing time, I pack my bag and force a smile at Tessa before leaving. On my way home, I stop at the market to buy foodstuffs and a few household items. The bags are heavy, and my wallet feels lighter than ever, but I shrug it off.

When I get home, the lights are on. I unlock the door with my spare key and step inside. Sebastian is right where I left him in the morning—on the couch, eyes glued to his video game. He doesn’t even glance at me.

“Good evening,” I say softly.

He says nothing.

The house is a mess. Plates on the table, crumbs on the floor, the smell of stale food lingering. I start to walk toward the bedroom when his voice cuts through the silence.

“Where are the groceries?”

“In the car,” I reply, keeping my voice calm.

“Won’t you bring them in?” he asks, not even looking up from the screen.

“I’ll do it after I freshen up,” I say, exhausted.

His tone sharpens. “You’ll do it now.”

I freeze, swallowing back anger. My hands tremble slightly. I want to scream, to ask him if he can’t see how tired I am, but instead I whisper, “Okay,” and turn toward the door again.

As I carry the bags in, he still doesn’t move. He just sits there, playing his game like I’m invisible. My chest feels heavy. I clean the table, wash the dirty dishes he left, and start arranging the groceries. The silence between us feels like punishment.

Then, as I finally sit down, he says coldly, “Are you mad? Won’t you cook for me?”

My eyes widen. For a moment, I just stare at him—this man I thought I knew, this man who once smiled at me like I was his world.

Something inside me breaks.

Without a word, I walk to the kitchen. My eyes burn, but I blink rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall. I chop vegetables, boil rice, fry sauce—all on autopilot. When the food is ready, I serve him quietly. He eats without a single thank you.

I walk to the bedroom, sit on the edge of the bed, and finally let the tears fall freely. My hands cover my face as silent sobs shake through me. My heart feels like it’s shattering piece by piece.

I kneel down beside the bed, my tears soaking the sheets.

“God,” I whisper, “I don’t even know what I did wrong. Please... help me. Please don’t let this be the rest of my life.”

My voice cracks as I cry harder.

Outside, the world keeps moving—cars pass, dogs bark, life goes on—but inside, I feel completely still.

Empty.

Alone.

And scared.

Because deep down, I know the man I married isn’t the same man I fell in love with.

And I don’t know how much longer I can survive pretending that he is.