Dess: Forgotten Pleasures
1209 Words
My feet instinctively tap on the cold tiled floor of Smith's office, my eyes darting around nervously.
The walls are white-washed and bright, reflecting the light in the room.
In the corner is a wheeled stool and a scale, carefully laid out.
Everything is clean and organized.
On the wall to my side hangs a laminated poster. It's bright and eye-catching, designed to educate.
At the top, bold letters in a calming blue hue read: "KNOW THE SIGNS. PROTECT THEIR FUTURE."
My eyes dip, running down the poster. It's about neurological disorders, especially epilepsy.
The contents put me off, and I adjust in my seat, clearing my throat. "Uh... Doctor?"
His sleepy brown eyes snap towards me, the size made smaller by his thick glasses. "Ahem."
He gently places the white sheets on the table, and I stretch to have a peep.
He chuckles. "I won't judge your eyes to be that good, Mrs. Vanhook."
Relaxing, I pull a tight smile, bracing myself for the worst.
It's been a month since I've been Mrs. Vanhook.
A month of pain.
Of tears.
Of constant and persistent disrespect.
When expensive cars rolled into my apartment, and my betrothal was announced by suited men with stone faces, I thought my life was set.
Who would have thought that, that dream would turn out to be such a nightmare?
Evan didn't sleep too long that night.
He woke up, rolled off me, picked up his clothes and left, leaving me confused.
I couldn't sleep a blink.
The next morning, I rushed to him with questions, and he didn't bat an eye when he told me about the woman who owns his heart, the love of his life—Kimberly Kent.
Heartbroken, I cried and I screamed, reminding him of his vows, and how I won't allow it, but he couldn't care less.
He walked out, leaving me to my new reality.
Ever since, he often spent his days away, 'at work'. And his nights, the same, with Kim.
But I didn't give up, I kept pushing, trying my best to be a good and submissive wife, yet he didn't acknowledge any of my efforts.
He remained cold as ice, hard as stone.
Kim herself wasn't any less of a pain in the ass.
She randomly showed up at our place—the place I thought was mine—and she made it hers.
She made sure the house staff knew about our relationship dynamics, but she didn't stop there, she also ensured that all our associates knew too.
Branding me as the 'Plastic Mrs. Vanhook'.
And in all these, Evan did nothing!
He left me to deal with it, ignoring my existence all together.
I was distraught and disheartened.
I thought so many times of taking my life, but every time I tried, I chickened out.
Since I couldn't do it myself, I gave in to praying for it, wishing death on myself, and hoping it comes soon.
That's why when I started feeling sick, I thought God didn't forsake me after all.
He answered my prayers.
"You are pregnant."
My ears ring as the words cut through my thoughts, sending me.
"Excuse you?" I lean closer to Dr. Smith, c*****g my head. "I don't think I heard you correctly."
"Oh, but you did." Smith says, beaming widely. "You are pregnant, Mrs. Vanhook. You are carrying a little Evan inside of you."
My breathing immediately picks up, my heart racing, hammering behind my ribcage.
I had hoped for cancer. Or any terminal illness, anything that would end me.
Something to do it for me.
But pregnancy?
Now, that's a terribly slow and painful sentence.
Smith must have gotten it wrong.
"Sorry, I'm what?" I quack my brows at him, a nervous smile playing on my lips.
His forehead furrows, his eyes reducing to slits. "It's good news... I hope?"
My hands reach for the sheets, grabbing them recklessly from the table.
My eyes dart through the printed texts, my right index tracing through every single word.
It says it, clear as crystal.
I'm five weeks pregnant.
How!!?
How is that even possible?
It was only once.
"B-bu-t..." My breathing comes in ragged numbers.
He smiles again, nodding. "It happens this early." He nods. "It's perfectly normal."
Twisting in my chair, I turn away from the doctor, my mind racing.
"I will advise you..."
I completely lock him out now, my mind running wild.
What would I do?
Should I tell Evan?
How would he react?
Something Smith says brings me back to reality.
"Sorry? You said something?"
He stops talking and takes a long, hard look at me.
Heaving, he repeats. "Evan would be elated by the news."
My heavy heart lightens.
My mind clears, and the grip in my chest fades to oblivion.
"He would?"
"Of course!" The doctor leans on his swivel, twisting it from side to side. "What better news could there be?"
Maybe that Kim's pregnant?
I quickly shake the thought off, focusing on what the doctor said.
Would Evan really be happy?
My hand instinctively caresses my not-there bump. Massaging softly.
Abruptly, I stand from the soft cushioned chair, grabbing my reports, bowing lightly, and exiting the room before he has the chance to say anything else.
* * *
"Welcome home, ma'am."
Fitzroy bows as he holds the door for me to get out of the car.
"Hmm." I barely spare him a glance before dashing into the house.
The entire ride back was full of anticipation and angst.
This might just be it.
My remedy for a happy marriage.
The solution to a faithful, loving husband.
Hastily, I run up the stairs, heading straight for Evan's room.
"Ma'am." Claudia—the head maid—is wide-eyed, curious as to what has me this agitated.
"Where is Evan?"
She points to the door, opening her mouth and closing, but uttering no audible words.
I whiff past her, heading for the door, but a wave of laughter stops me from pushing the door open.
I turn to her for an explanation, but she looks away.
The laughter comes again. High pitched. Screeching.
That weight settles in my heart again, dragging the organ down.
"You are lying." The annoyingly familiar voice of Kim sneaks through the open spaces of the door. "You definitely f****d her, at least once."
"Why would I lie about that?" Evan's voice follows. Slow. Bored.
"I don't know." Her voice is louder this time. "You don't want to hurt my feelings, maybe."
A mocking laugh replaces Kim's voice, booming through the air. "I really have never slept with that red-haired woman."
I recoil. My hand retracting from the knob.
"I was dead drunk on the wedding night, I came to my room and slept off."
"And after your wedding night?" her tone is condescending.
"Nothing. We've never shared a bed."
I fall back on my feet, my knees bucking, legs shaking.
"Swear it!" Kim pushes. "Swear it, Evan. Swear it!"
He doesn't swear.
He just laughs, then—
"I would never have s*x with that wench."
That does it.
I turn around, my breath catching, chest tightening.
Crumpling the sheets in my hand, I head to my room.
Retreating from it all.
He doesn't remember.
- Writer
