Her broken fairytale

1

Valerie

'Today, I have dinner with my husband.With my beautiful, cold, callous husband.We eat together once a week. Usually on Wednesdays. Why Wednesdays? Good question. Back at the beginning of our relationship, when I would receive an email notification (yes, you read that right. Theo would inform me about our dinner together via email!!) ) about dinner with my husband in the evening, I tried to ask questions. Why by email?

' Why on Wednesdays?To this day, I don't know the answers to these questions, and I probably never will.I don't pursue it.I've already learned that Theo doesn't like to answer my questions. He doesn't like anything related to me at all.I've also learned that in this house, I'm just a vase.A pretty object displayed for viewing, completely empty inside.All in all, this is one of my main tasks; among the thousands of others I have to perform, this is one of the most important.I am supposed to always look nice. My hair must be neatly styled, and my outfit must be elegant and refined. I often receive instructions on what to wear, and God forbid I don't follow them! My jewelry should be discreet, and there can be absolutely no extravagance in my 'makeup. I have to discuss any major changes to my appearance.I can't complain. I have to express myself eloquently and calmly. I have to be smiling and relaxed.Polite and detached.In discussions with others, I am expected to be gentle and neutral.If my voice happens to contain any negative or critical undertones, I am punished with a stern look or a meaningful silence full of disapproval.His punishments are as cold as his soul.He never physically harms me.He doesn't even raise his voice at me; the only thing he occasionally raises is his eyebrows.Sometimes, when none of his punishments work, he blocks my credit cards without informing me in advance.To teach me a lesson.So that I remember.Other than that, he doesn't resort to any 'drastic actions.I am treated like a child raised in a very strict family whose parenting methods involve the carrot-and-stick approach.I am either rewarded or punished.On the outside, I'm supposed to be a lady.He has no interest whatsoever in what goes on inside me.I can be whoever I want, but for public appearances, I'm supposed to be his perfect, catalog-worthy wife.The perfect wife of the best lawyer in town. The famous Theodore Woodville, a descendant of a noble family.A billionaire and a gentleman.Someone who works because it's his hobby, not because he has to. Someone who gives tips bigger than the bills and who drinks coffee imported from Colombia especially for him.The object of desire for the sexiest women in the world.Models and 'actresses who sigh for him, both openly and in secret.A handsome prince with a sad look in his eyes.My beautiful husband.My beautiful tyrant.He treats me like a showpiece doll.Since the day of our wedding, he hasn't touched me, not even with his little finger. He made it clear that our marriage was inconvenient for him and would remain a marriage in name only. He doesn't even try to change or hide it.I'm simply not within his sphere of desire. Does that hurt? Does it hurt to put your 'hand on a hot stove? Exactly… I've loved Theo for as long as I can remember. I dreamed of being able to be close to him. And now, now that my dream has come true, I know that some dreams shouldn't be spoken out loud. That some should remain forever in the realm of dreams.Theo is cold as ice. Cold, absent. I am invisible to him. He avoids me when I'm around, as if I had a disease.Ah, except when we go out in public. When we go out, even the look in his eyes changes when he looks at me. He is the perfect husband. Loving and devoted.Unlike the others, I know that he is pretending and that the moment we are alone, he will revert to his old self, but the others sigh and melt over my charming, affectionate husband, who is so deeply in love with me.At those times, of course, he doesn't spare me tender gestures; he pulls out my chair, lets me go through the door first, offers me a glass of wine.He kisses me on the forehead, touches my 'shoulder lightly.A true gentleman.The perfect husband.Behind closed doors, he walks past me without a word. He scoffs with his eyes. He mocks me to my face, treating me as if I were invisible.He avoids me like the plague, and if we do happen to run into each other, he quickly backs away.He brings in mistresses who wake me from my sleep at night, loudly moaning his name. Although his bedroom is in the other wing of the house, they are so loud that there is not a night when I don't wake up.Their suffocating, pungent perfume wafts throughout the house, and no amount of airing out the rooms can eliminate that stench.I knew from the very first day of our marriage that I wouldn't be the only one.Besides, he never promised me that I would be, quite the opposite.On this point, he was honest and straightforward from the very beginning.

'Loudly, calmly, and clearly, he informed me that our marriage would exist only on paper. He did not desire me. To him, I was and still am a rebellious kid who took advantage of his moment of weakness and snuck into his life at night, but he would never consciously touch me.He didn't want me in his bed, and he couldn't imagine it being any different.He gives me free rein in the realm of s*x, but not with him.He intends to do the same.I had to swallow my bitterness and accept it.Even before we got married, he would disappear for entire nights and return exhausted in the morning, leaving me in no doubt as to where he had been and what he had been doing.But even that wasn't the worst part.I still remember my wedding night with a heavy heart.After returning from the wedding reception, I had fallen into a light sleep when suddenly a strange noise woke me up. Music 'was drifting into my bedroom from another room.I was alone in the bedroom, although I had secretly hoped that Theodor would join me. I walked barefoot into the foyer and wandered through the empty hallways, searching for the source of the music that was filling the entire estate.Following the sound, I entered his bedroom, where I found Alex tied to the bed with ropes and Theo thrusting into her from behind.They were completely absorbed in each other, so by the time they realized a third person had entered, I had had enough time to feel my heart bleed.Perhaps I screamed, perhaps I sobbed loudly, because suddenly Theo jerked his head up, and a range of emotions flashed across his face before he finally assumed his usual, cool expression.When my newly married husband noticed that I was still in the room and witnessing this humiliating scene, he smiled cruelly and asked,

“'Do you want to get into my bed again?I guess I just ran out of there.Or maybe I left calmly, preserving what was left of my honor.I don't know that. I don't remember. I just hope I managed to save face at the time and leave with class, without making a scene.What I do remember clearly, though, is that it was the last time I cried.For him, nothing changed.For me, everything had changed.I went from one prison to another.Theo hated me more than ever before.And I loved him. I still love him.I had loved him since I first saw him, and I never stopped.When I finally realized that my love meant nothing and wouldn't change anything, I asked him for a divorce.I thought he would breathe a sigh of relief and quickly go his own way.I was wrong.He laughed at me.He snorted loudly in my face.- Honey… a divorce? Has your little heart 'stopped loving me?”He smiled mockingly as he said that.- How can I put this to you… what God has joined together, let no man separate.With that, he waved his hand, dismissing me like an annoying child.He didn't want a divorce.But he didn't want me either.He made that abundantly clear when I woke up as Mrs. Woodville.Once again, I didn't have the courage to stand up for myself. To ask what his purpose was in all this.Perfect wives don't ask; perfect wives listen.I push away my bitter thoughts, sit down at the dressing table, and tie my waist-length blond hair into an elegant bun at the nape of my neck. I gently apply black mascara to my eyelashes and swipe red lipstick across my lips. I apply a body lotion with gold particles to my skin.I put on a black silk maxi dress with a subtle neckline at the front and head to the dining room in my wing of the house. This huge house has two dining rooms and two kitchens. One in the east wing, the other in the south wing.

We 'usually use the south kitchen.Theo is already sitting at the table. He has rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt to his elbows, and he is holding a glass of whiskey in his hand.He doesn't lift his head when my footsteps echo through the room. Still, it takes my breath away to see him.He is beautiful.And he is completely unaware of it.He is every woman's dream come true.The bad boy from romantic novels who forever remains the bad guy…I sit down in my seat, muttering softly to myself.- You're late.- I glance nervously at the large, black clock hanging on the wall. Indeed. A full three minutes.- Theo, I was already there...- I clench my lips as he slams his glass down on the table with a loud clink.- Look at me, honey.- The gentle, soft tone he uses makes my hands start to shake.I lift my uncertain gaze to this beautiful, furious man.- Did I let you call me that?

'Damn it. I forgot. Theo, or rather Theodor, had forbidden me to use that nickname.To me, he was Theodore and only Theodore, and ultimately, my husband.I swallow the lump in my throat and look at him pleadingly.I didn't have the strength for this today.For this reprimand.- I'm sorry.He looks at me for a moment in silence, then shifts his gaze to the housekeeper, who brought in the meal and left the dining room as quickly as she had entered.- How was your day?He asks after swallowing a piece of pheasant breast.I push the meat to the other end of my plate and pop a forkful of green peas into my mouth. We've been married for six months, and my husband still doesn't know I'm a vegetarian. Or he knows, and he doesn't care. Honestly, that wouldn't surprise me. Another thing he could control…- Good. And you?- Short answers. He hates it when I say more than is necessary. He cuts me off if he thinks I'm talking too long.

'Basically, he hates everything that has to do with me.- So, anyway. We're going to my parents' for brunch on Sunday.”- He informs me in a curt tone.- The mayor will be there; make sure his wife feels at ease among us.- Of course.- Oh, my God. I had only been in this relationship for six months, yet I felt as if we had been together for twenty years. “Make sure his wife feels at ease,” meaning engage her in a superficial discussion about a famous designer's new collection or a trendy art exhibition.- Put on that cream Versace short-sleeved dress.- Yes, yes. For formal dinners and meetings, my non-husband chooses my outfits for me. He lets me know what to wear via text message or email. It's rare, but it does happen, like tonight at dinner.- As you wish.- Leave your hair down.- Yes, he also decides on my hairstyle, and he's very strict about it. I'm not allowed to cut or dye my hair, so it's already waist-length and still that dreary blonde color.