My Petite Vengeful Wife

Iris "What are you doing here?!" Michael's shout makes me jump up on the bed. His handsome face is distorted by pure hatred and anger. Why is he angry? I have no idea. Why is he asking me what I'm doing here? It's our wedding night. Where else would I be? My gaze travels over him from head to toe. He looks very good in the wedding suit...I wonder how would he look without it? My mind begins to wander about my husband's body. Yes, my husband, I like how that sounds. I sigh nervously at my sinful thoughts because tonight, I will be his. A magical night where I will give myself to my Prince Charming. "Are you deaf? What are you doing in my room?!" he asks again, pulling me out of my reverie. "It's our wedding night," I reply timidly, feeling my face flush at the significance of what will happen on this important night. His eyes open in a way that makes me laugh. It seems he now understands what I'm talking about, and his cheeks also turn that rosy color. I watch him close his eyes and take a deep breath. When he opens them, that look of hatred returns. "Get out of here!" he shouts, and again I jump in place, letting go of the sheet that was covering my half-naked body. My husband's gaze travels over me, and that action makes me tremble and blush even more. Michael runs his hands over his face in frustration and leaves out of the room to shout again. "Rose! Come here right now!" He shouts to the housekeeper that my father-in-law sent to take care of us in our beautiful matrimonial home, a gift from the Harris, his parents, to us. In the distance, I hear Rose's quick steps climbing the stairs to the second floor, where our room is located. Suddenly, my husband enters again, and upon seeing me still uncovered, he huffs in irritation. I lower my gaze to my outfit or rather, to the piece of transparent fabric that my mother-in-law gave me for this special night, and I see nothing wrong or strange about it. I blush even more, realizing that my breasts are not big enough, maybe that's why Michael got upset. Maybe I don't look as sexy as I should. Well, I didn't inherit my mother's Greek beauty, just her eyes and her black hair. A sharp pain shoots through my arm, followed by a tug that makes me get up from the bed clumsily and awkwardly. I lift my gaze to my husband who has pulled me out of bed with no delicacy. "What are you doing?" I ask, still surprised by his action. "Getting you out of my room because you're too stupid to do it yourself," he says through gritted teeth, with that same angry tone. "What are you talking about? It's our bedroom," I say with concern, trying to make him understand that what he's doing makes no sense. We reach the door, and he shoves me out of the room. I wasn't expecting this, so my body goes forward, and I fall in the most ungraceful manner. For a moment, I remain paralyzed by my husband's actions until a gasp of surprise and a woman's laughter snap me out of it. I slowly sit up on the floor. In front of me stands my imposing and sexy husband, looking at me first with surprise, then regret, and finally hatred. No, there's no other emotion in that gaze but hatred. Pure hatred. The rest I must have imagined. My gaze shifts to my right, and I see Rose covering her mouth, either in surprise at seeing me on the floor or rather, because she saw me being thrown, falling face-first onto the wooden hallway floor, leaving my backside exposed and screaming like a madwoman. Next to her is Loren, Michael's ex-girlfriend, mocking me. Of course, those laughs were hers. I don't know what that woman is doing in my house. I return my gaze, filled with pain and surprise, to my husband, who comes out of the room looking down at me as if I were a cockroach and he were the King of the world, ready to stomp on me. He huffs in annoyance once more and bends down to grab my arm, the same one he hurt a moment ago, eliciting a gasp of pain from me. "Rose, which room did you prepare for her?" he says with irritation. "T-the, the last door on the right, sir," Rose's voice trembles. My husband, without caring about my pain, my scant clothing, or the trembling of my body, drags me to the guest room, the smallest room in the entire house. Michael opens the door with a forceful shove. "This is your room from now on," he pushes me inside, now with a bit more delicacy, but that doesn't prevent me from almost falling again. "W-why?" it's the only thing I can say when I see him turn to leave. He stops, turning his back to me, and I see him tense up. Slowly, he turns around and looks at me head-on. His scrutinizing gaze travels from my face to my feet and back for a few seconds that seem eternal to me. His gaze darkens, and I don't know if that's a good or bad thing. Our eyes meet, and suddenly, he gives me a crooked smile, the one I've loved since I was a child. But now it's not as nice as I remember, it has a hint of malice that I don't like. "Do you want to know why you'll be staying in this room?" he asks. I nod timidly. He approaches me, little by little, like a predator stalking its prey, making me tremble even more, but now not from fear or humiliation, but from anticipation. Silly body. His face is almost touching mine. Is he going to kiss me? My heart starts to beat much faster. I close my eyes with anticipation. "I'll never touch you, little girl," his words make me open my eyes in surprise. What did he say? His face transforms into a mocking sneer. "Did you really think I'd be into you or even kiss you? How naive of you!" his gaze returns to my body and that only makes me put my hands up as protection so he can't see me, I don't like the way he's looking at me. It's no longer dark, it's a look of disgust that hurts me. "You're just a skinny little girl, with no curves, you don't even fill out the neckline of that awful lingerie. Did you really think I'd be into you? That I'd fall at your feet for... this?" he makes a disdainful gesture with his hand, indicating my body from top to bottom. His words break my heart even more, and shame completely overwhelms me. "Listen carefully, Iris. Our marriage is just a business deal," he takes a deep breath. "I married you for my inheritance, I'm not interested in you as a woman, because you're not one, and you never will be," he says mockingly. "Our marriage is just a piece of paper, when my father dies and I inherit what's mine, we'll get divorced, and you'll disappear from my life. Do you understand?" he runs his hand with false tenderness over my cheek, leaving a trail of heat and electricity through my body, causing a strange shiver of... terror. "Do you understand?" he repeats in a whisper with a sweet voice that seems to be the very voice of the devil. I nod, stunned. I couldn't speak even if I tried, the knot in my throat grows with each passing second. He nods, satisfied with my response, and then leaves the room with his usual arrogance. Once alone, a sob of pain escapes my lips ,and my legs lose the strength they had, causing me to collapse onto the cold floor. My body doesn't stop trembling, my tears flow uncontrollably, blurring my vision, and I feel like I'm about to have a terrible panic attack. With difficulty, I crawl to settle on the carpet and curl up in a fetal position, hoping that everything ends soon, that the pain will pass or be strong enough to make me faint, so at least I won't have to feel anymore.