My Wife

Chapter 3: The Lily With Thorns

Helena Jones was a quiet woman by most accounts unless you rile her up. Her friends and close acquaintances would say she was serene and bright but her rivals call her a violent shrew. Both would be correct. Helena Jones was a vibrant young woman who wore her feelings on her sleeve. The only thing clearer than her fair skin was her conscience— she would never let injustice slide and was a vocal advocate for people’s rights.

Her father cherished her as the apple of his eye and was a staunch supporter of everything that she did so Helena grew up bold and outspoken despite her mother’s protest. Her socialite mother always tried to reign Helena in, but the young woman refused to compromise on her morals.

Helena lived by a code: “What’s wrong is wrong and apathy is abetting the crime.” A saying that often landed her in the thick of a cosmic mess. Flipped tables, ripped hair, bruises, and scratches were the usual outcomes of her heated argument. No one would deny the fact that she was chaos personified.

After years of etiquette training, her mother insisted she had a social debut. With Helena being her only child, she wanted Helena to become the perfect lady. Unfortunately, Helena’s fiery temperament caused quite a stir more than once so her mother banished the thought altogether. With the final straw, her mother had melted into a pool of tears. She moaned about her ill-fate day in and day out until her husband could take no more and shouted that if she squeaked another complaint, she would be put under house arrest and would never attend another party for as long as he lived. The threat worked like a charm and the family assumed a facade of peace, lasting as long as Helena’s mother kept her mouth shut.

When Helena went to university, she opted to live near campus which granted her a sense of freedom she never tasted before. Focusing on her studies, she found a simple peace… that was until she met him, a young man named Edgar Dorth.

They first met in a humanities class. Edgar had occupied a seat next to hers. While she tried to focus, she felt a burning stare. Turning, her eyes locked with Edgar’s, and a soft smile crept onto his lips. He tilted his head slightly, and the brown locks of his hair caressed his forehead as they slipped down. Helena, unused to male charm, was immediately fascinated.

Edgar glanced at the professor before scribbling in his notebook and sliding it over to Helena. Bemused, Helena glanced down at the neat sentences: Hi, my name is Edgar. I’ve noticed how studious you are, would you mind if I borrowed your notes sometime?

Helena smiled softly and nodded her head once in affirmation. It was a harmless request and this Edgar fellow seemed nice enough, what harm could he do?

After a few meetings, she discovered how dangerous Edgar was to her heart. His calm demeanor, friendly nature, and witty banter easily reeled her in and she couldn't help but want to talk to him more. Soon, they became regular deskmates and before long, they were in a relationship. New to love, she wore her feelings on her sleeve. Though Helena was careful not to have any inappropriate contact before marriage, they did exchange an occasional hug, albeit brief. With each physical contact, Helena grew a little bolder and the hug lasted just a mite longer. She wondered if this was love. If so, it was quite nice.