Fated to Wed (English)

The morning light filters through the heavy curtains, casting a muted glow over the room. I sit at the edge of the bed, pulling the sheets around my body as I listen to the distant sounds of Tyrone laughing in the next room. I know Theo is with him. It's the only time Theo softens, the only time he isn't the cold, detached man I've come to know over the past two years. Tyrone’s giggle floats down the hall, pulling a rare smile from me. My son—our son—is the only thing that keeps me grounded in this farce of a marriage. Everything I do, everything I endure, is for him. Theo, of course, doesn’t feel the same way about me. He never has. The night of Tyrone’s conception was a mistake for both of us, something neither of us intended, but we were left with no choice but to face the consequences. Our families made sure of that. I glance at the clock, watching as the minutes tick by, knowing I should get up. But the thought of pretending, of playing the dutiful wife, weighs heavily on me. I don’t love Theo. How could I? He’s as distant as the winter moon, and I’ve long given up trying to thaw his heart. But none of that matters, not really. All that matters is Tyrone. I finally rise, pulling on a simple dress and tying my hair back before I make my way to the kitchen. When I reach the doorway, I see them—Theo holding Tyrone in his arms, lifting him high above his head as the boy shrieks with joy. Theo’s eyes, always so cold when they land on me, are soft as he looks at his son. For a moment, I envy Tyrone. Theo can show him a warmth that I’ll never know. “Good morning,” I say quietly, my voice sounding as hollow as I feel. Theo lowers Tyrone to the ground and turns to me, his expression shifting, the warmth from just seconds ago fading into a distant, polite mask. “Morning,” he replies, curt as always. His words are for formality’s sake, nothing more. Tyrone runs toward me, his small arms reaching up. I scoop him into my embrace, breathing in the sweet scent of his hair as I hold him close. “Mama!” he squeals, pressing a wet kiss against my cheek. “Are you hungry, love?” I ask him, ignoring the tension between Theo and me. It’s always like this—calm for Tyrone’s sake, strained beneath the surface. We both wear masks, for his benefit, but we live in separate worlds, even under the same roof. “I should be heading out,” Theo says, adjusting his cufflinks. I glance at him, noting how effortlessly he slips back into his role as the cold, unapproachable man. “Work will be busy today.” I nod, not bothering to ask for details. We’ve never spoken about work or anything beyond Tyrone. Our conversations, if you can call them that, are brief and businesslike. Everything revolves around our son—nothing more. As Theo heads for the door, Tyrone toddles after him, clutching his father’s leg. “Daddy! Don’t go!” he pleads, his wide eyes shimmering with tears. Theo crouches down and gently ruffles Tyrone’s hair. “I’ll be back later, buddy. Be good for your mom, okay?” His voice is soft, a tone he never uses with me. I turn away, focusing on the stove, pretending not to notice the tenderness he reserves only for Tyrone. When the door finally closes behind him, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. It’s always like this—Theo comes and goes, playing the perfect father while we pretend we’re something we’re not. A family. But I know better. We’re nothing more than two people bound by a mistake, playing roles neither of us asked for. I kneel down to look into Tyrone’s eyes, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. “What do you want for breakfast, sweetie?” He grins up at me, his earlier sadness already forgotten. “Pancakes, Mama!” I smiled, pushing the thought of Theo from my mind as I focus on the one thing that truly matters—Tyrone. For him, I’ll keep pretending. For him, I’ll endure this marriage that isn’t really a marriage at all. After lunch, I told Tyrone to get ready, and we head out to the grocery store. He skips beside me, his tiny hand clasped in mine as we walk down the aisles. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile glow over the shelves as I toss a few essentials into the cart—milk, bread, a few vegetables. It’s a routine, just another task to check off my list. The humdrum of everyday life. I’m reaching for a can of tomatoes when I hear a voice behind me. “Delilah? Is that really you?” I turn, squinting at the tall man in front of me, his face faintly familiar but aged by time. For a second, I struggle to place him. Then it hits me. Marlon Santiago. “Marlon?” I blink in surprise. “Oh my God. It’s been... what, ten years?” “At least!” He grins, flashing a set of slightly crooked teeth. “I almost didn’t recognize you. You’ve... changed.” I laugh, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Yeah, well, motherhood does that.” His eyes flick down to Tyrone, who’s busy staring at the rows of candy, oblivious to our conversation. “This little guy’s yours?” I nod, brushing my hand through Tyrone’s hair. “This is Tyrone.” “Wow,” Marlon whistles, shaking his head in disbelief. “I still remember you back in high school, always picking fights with people. What did they call you? The war freak?” I groan inwardly. Of course, that’s what he remembers. “Yeah, I might’ve been a little... hot-headed.” “A little?” He chuckles. “You once threw a chair across the classroom because someone called you bossy.” I roll my eyes but laugh despite myself. “They deserved it.” Marlon laughs with me, a deep, hearty sound that seems to fill the entire aisle. Then, as if a lightbulb goes off, I remember something about him, too. “Wait, didn’t you... didn’t you have that, uh... incident during the final exams?” His grin falters, and I can see the memory flash across his face—the day he pooped his pants in class, right in the middle of a math test. I shouldn’t laugh, but the memory is too vivid, too ridiculous to ignore. “You remember that, huh?” he says sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I think the entire school remembers that.” I chuckle, though I try to stifle it. We both burst into laughter, and for the first time in a long while, I feel a strange sense of ease. It’s been years since I’ve talked to someone like this, someone who remembers me before all the complications of life, before Theo, before everything. We continue to chat, walking down the aisles as if time had never passed, reminiscing about high school days, embarrassing moments, and old friends we’ve lost touch with. Tyrone gets restless now and then, tugging on my hand to show me some toy or candy, but mostly, he’s patient. I’m so caught up in the conversation with Marlon that I don’t realize how late it’s getting until I notice the dimming light outside the store windows. “Wow,” I say, glancing at the dark sky. “It’s already nightfall. I didn’t even realize.” “Time flies when you’re catching up,” Marlon replies, checking his watch. “Are you headed home now?” I nod, reaching down to grab the bags of groceries. Tyrone yawns, tugging on my skirt. “Yeah, I need to get this little guy to bed.” Marlon’s eyes drift over to the parking lot, and then back to me. “Wait... you don’t have a car?” I shake my head, feeling a little embarrassed. “No, I don’t drive. I usually just walk or take a cab.” His brow furrows, and before I can protest, he says, “Let me drop you off. I’ve got my car parked just outside. It’s no trouble at all.” “Oh, no, you don’t have to—” “I insist,” he cuts me off with a warm smile. “Besides, it’s late, and it’s not safe for you to be walking with Tyrone at this hour.” I hesitate for a moment, but then I glance down at Tyrone, whose eyelids are drooping. He’s exhausted, and the thought of waiting for a cab, or worse, walking in the dark, makes me reconsider. “Okay,” I finally agree, smiling back. “Thanks, Marlon.” He leads us to his car, a modest but well-kept sedan, and helps load the groceries into the back. Tyrone clambers into the backseat, already half-asleep, while I slide into the passenger side. As we pull out of the parking lot, the hum of the engine and the soft murmur of the radio fill the silence between us. It feels strange, sitting beside Marlon after all these years, but in a good way. For once, I’m not thinking about Theo or the cold emptiness of my marriage. For once, I feel like myself again, like Delilah before everything changed. “Thanks again,” I say quietly, glancing at Marlon as he drives. “Anytime,” he replies with a grin. “It’s good to see you, Delilah. Really good.” As Marlon’s car pulled up to the front of the house, I glanced back at Tyrone, who was fast asleep in the backseat, his soft breaths barely audible. The porch light was already on, casting a warm glow over the front yard, and I silently thanked Marlon again for the ride. “Thanks again, Marlon,” I said as I unbuckled Tyrone from his car seat, careful not to wake him. “No problem at all,” Marlon replied with a smile. “It was good catching up.” I nodded, holding Tyrone against my chest as I shut the car door and began to make my way toward the house. But before I could reach the front door, it swung open, revealing Theo, standing there with his arms crossed and an expression that sent a chill down my spine. “What took you so long?” Theo’s voice was low, but I could hear the tension in it. Before I could answer, Marlon stepped out of the car, oblivious to the storm brewing between Theo and me. “Sorry about that, man,” he said casually, walking over to the porch. “Delilah and I got caught up talking. We didn’t realize it was already nightfall.” Theo’s eyes flicked from me to Marlon, his jaw tightening. I could practically feel the temperature drop as he straightened up and walked over to us, his gaze never leaving Marlon. “And you are?” Marlon extended a hand, still completely unaware of the danger he was in. “I’m Marlon, an old classmate of Delilah’s. We ran into each other at the grocery store.” Theo didn’t take his hand. Instead, he took a slow step closer to Marlon, his voice colder than I’d ever heard it. “I’m Theo. Her husband.” The word hung in the air, heavy and sharp. Marlon blinked, his smile faltering as the realization hit him. “Oh, I didn’t know...” His voice trailed off, and he took a step back, glancing awkwardly between Theo and me. “Well,” Marlon said after a moment of tense silence, “I should get going. Nice to meet you, Theo. Goodnight, Delilah.” He gave me a small wave before heading back to his car, clearly eager to escape the tension. As Marlon’s car pulled away, I turned back to Theo, my heart pounding. His eyes were hard, his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t say a word as he stepped aside, letting me walk past him into the house with Tyrone still cradled in my arms. The silence was suffocating, the air thick with unspoken words. I carefully laid Tyrone down in his crib, brushing a kiss against his forehead before closing the door to his room. When I turned around, Theo was there, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, his eyes still cold as ice. “You took your time getting back,” he said, his voice low and measured, but I could hear the anger simmering just beneath the surface. “I was just talking to an old friend,” I replied, keeping my voice steady. “It’s not a big deal.” Theo’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step toward me. “Not a big deal?” His voice dropped even lower. “You spent hours with some guy, laughing and catching up, while I was here waiting, wondering where the hell you were. And then he has the nerve to show up at our house?” I opened my mouth to respond, but he didn’t give me the chance. He was in front of me now, his hand reaching out to grip my wrist, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You think you can just waltz back here and act like everything’s fine?” “Theo, it wasn’t like that—” I began, but he cut me off. “Shut up,” he growled, his grip tightening. “You’ve been playing with fire, Delilah. And now, I’m going to remind you who you belong to.” I felt my breath catch as his other hand moved to my waist, pulling me closer, his touch was possessive and rough. There was no softness in his eyes, no tenderness—only cold control. “I’ll punish you for this,” he whispered against my ear, his voice dripping with warning. His fingers dug into my skin, sending a shiver down my spine, but it wasn’t fear that gripped me. It was the bitter realization that this was what our marriage had become—power, control, and a pretense of something it would never be. But I didn’t resist. Because as much as I didn’t care for Theo, I knew this was just another part of the life we were trapped in. A marriage built on nothing but obligation and a night of passion we both regretted. And so, I let him pull me deeper into this twisted game, knowing that, once again, I would play the role I’d been forced into.