Bruised Petals
1350 Words
Chapter One: Bruised Petals
I sat in the dark, my knees pulled tightly to my chest, listening to the wind scratch against the glass panes of our bedroom like fingernails begging to be let in. The clock on the wall ticked louder than usual, mocking me with every second Lucas didn’t come home.
He was late, again for the third time this week and the fourth time this month.
I had stopped counting after the second year. Counting made it real. It made the distance between us clearer than I could stand and so, I had learned to silence the ache in my chest, to smile when he walked past me like I didn’t exist and to call every bruise he gave me as my clumsiness.
I wasn’t clumsy rather I was just trying not to drown.
Three years ago, I stood at the altar and gave myself to a man who made me believe I was everything he had ever dreamed of. Lucas Davis had a smile that could melt granite, a touch that once made me shiver with hope. I left my old world behind for him. My name, my legacy and my empire were all tucked away in the shadows because I didn’t want him to love me for what I had.
I wanted a man who would see me for me and I thought Lucas was that man but love, is not a shelter when it is built on illusions.
The sound of tires crunching the gravel outside pulled me from my thoughts. I wiped my face and stood quickly, peeking through the curtains. A pair of headlights cut across the driveway. Lucas had finally returned, but something about the way he parked, the hasty stop and the lingering engine twisted my stomach into a knot.
Then I saw her.
A woman stepped out of the passenger side. Her legs were long, her hair sleek and tumbling in waves down her back, and her laugh was loud and sharp which pierced the night air like a dagger. She wore a red dress similar to the one I had once worn on our anniversary, though hers was tighter and newer.
My heart stumbled.
I hoped that the thought I had in my head was not what it was and that she was just a business partner.
I rushed to the mirror. My face was pale and my eyes were hollow. The bruises from last week had faded into yellow patches along my collarbone. I straightened my hair and smoothed the nightgown I wore. I wasn’t going to cry or portray myself as a weak woman, not tonight.
The front door opened with a careless bang. Their voices echoed. Her giggle, his low murmurs and the sound of shoes against the marble floor. I stepped out of the bedroom, my bare feet cold against the tile.
“Lucas,” I said, my voice quiet but steady.
He turned toward me, his hand around her waist. His eyes narrowed like I was an inconvenience.
“Oh, you’re still here.”
Still here?????????
“Who is she?” I asked, though the question felt pointless.
He shrugged. “Susan.”
Susan looked me up and down like I was a stain on her expensive shoes.
“So you’re the wife,” she said with a chuckle. “Charming little setup you have.”
My hands trembled. “Lucas, what is this?”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t start, you already knew things weren’t working.”
“You haven’t come home for days! And when you finally do, you bring another woman into our house?”
He dropped his hand from Susan’s waist.
“Watch your tone, Isabella.”
I stepped closer. “I have done everything that I could for you. I abandoned my family, my life all for you. I’ve been a faithful wife, even when you stopped being a loyal and caring husband.”
His eyes turned to ice.
“You want to talk about loyalty?” he hissed. “You’ve been nothing but a burden to me. A barren and lifeless woman. Three years, Isabella with no child and no joy. Just your miserable face every night. Well, Susan here is carrying my child, something you could not do in three years, she did that in three months ”
The words slapped harder than any hand.
“I........I tried,” I whispered.
He scoffed. “Tried you say??? I picked you from the slums, I gave you a life and you repay me with childlessness??????”
I stared at him, stunned. Slums he said? That was the story he told himself?
He stepped forward and, without warning, he slapped me across the face.
I stumbled, catching myself on the wall. The burn was immediate, hot and humiliating.
“Lucas!” I gasped.
Susan laughed.
Tears welled in my eyes, not from pain but from the sheer audacity of it all.
“You are a curse to me,” Lucas spat. “Since the day I married you, everything in my life has gone downhill but now..... now I have Susan. She’s everything you’re not, she will be staying here and this is her home now.”
I steadied myself, fury replacing the sorrow.
“If she stays here,” I said, my voice low, “then I will leave.”
He waved a hand. “You can go to hell for all I care.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening. I turned around, walked to our bedroom and pulled out my suitcase. My hands moved fast like a robot. I stuffed in my clothes, my journals and the necklace my mother gave me before she died. That night, I agreed to bury the weak ‘ISABELLA MARTINS’.
When I came back downstairs, my suitcase in hand, Lucas and Susan were curled up on the couch like I was some maid interrupting their night.
I stood tall.
“I abandoned everything for you. You isolated me from my family, my friends and my world. I stopped talking to my people because you asked me to. I submitted to you and I loved you despite your temper, your cheating and your violence.”
Lucas didn't flinch.
“But it’s clear now… you never loved me.”
He sneered. “Do you think you’ll survive without me, Isabella? You’ll go back to the gutters where I found you.”
I smiled bitterly. “We’ll see about that but bear this in mind.....this marriage is over.”
He stood, furious.
“And bear this in mind, once you leave, don’t you dare come crawling back to me because I won’t accept you, even if you beg.”
I tilted my head. “Lucas Davis… my lawyer will send you the divorce papers, goodbye.”
He kissed Susan in front of me. “Good riddance.”
I walked out the door.
The night air was cold, but for the first time in years, I felt warm, free and powerful.
What Lucas didn’t know was this. I was never the girl from the slums.
I was Isabella Martins, sole heir to the Martins Group, a billion-dollar global powerhouse. I gave up the throne to search for love and I found a lie but I wouldn’t be silent anymore. I called my manager and in minutes, my ride arrived.
The black Rolls Royce that came to pick me was sleek, elegant and mine.
The driver stepped out and opened the door.
“Welcome back, Miss Martins.”
I exhaled slowly. “Take me home.”
As the car sped down the road, a message appeared on my phone.
“Welcome back, my princess. The board is waiting for your return. The Martin's legacy is yours to reclaim.” It was a message from my dad. I think my manager had relayed the news of my return to him.
I stared out the window, fingers grazing the bruise on my cheek. Lucas thought he had broken me but he had only sharpened me.
And when I return… the world will remember my name.
- Writer
