CHASING THE UNWANTED WIFE

3 - Pain

Pain?

No, not just pain. It was far more excruciating than that. Gnawing at her bones. Tearing at her flesh.

Running after Theron, Callista could only watch his back. The more desperately she chased after him, the farther away he seemed to get. Her feet hurt so badly that she had to clench her teeth against the pain, yet a low groan still escaped her throat.

Theron didn’t care.

He heard her groan, but he didn’t look back. His pace quickened instead. Not once did he slow down. His footsteps struck hard against the ground as he headed toward his car. The wind whipped through his hair, sending loose strands brushing across his hardened expression. He yanked the door open, climbed inside, and slammed it shut. Then, the engine roared to life, and the car pulled away from the venue without sparing her a single glance.

Callista was left behind, feeling hurt and humiliated. She watched the rear of the car grow smaller and smaller in the distance. Heat gathered behind her eyes. A familiar sting burning beneath her eyelids, while a bitter tightness crawled up her throat.

She didn’t want to cry, and tried her hardest not to. But the tears eventually spilled over, rolling down her cheeks—first, one, then another, until they fell in an endless stream.

“That’s what happens when you force a man to marry you. Tsk,” said a stranger who had witnessed her chasing after the groom.

“When a man is not in love, marriage just becomes a shackle to him,” added another.

Callista pressed her lips together—tightly, firmly. They were right, so she said nothing. Her marriage to Theron had indeed been forced. He didn’t want her.

Left standing in the middle of the clifftop grounds, she watched as the colors around her seemed to pale and grow dull, as though the world itself had lost its vibrancy. Everything around her seemed to blur into shades of gray. The pain continued to seep into her, leaving its mark in her eyes.

Not long after, her parents came to her. Her mother gathered her into her arms, embracing her cold and trembling body as harsh emotions tore through her from within.

“Sweetheart, let’s go home,” said her mother, Mrs. Coritha Rosetti. A woman who looked remarkably like Callista, except that time had already touched her features, aging with elegance. Her hair tied in a sophisticated bun.

“Is this wedding still valid, Mom?” Her voice was weak, barely escaping her throat, which had tightened from the pain.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“But… he’s not coming back.”

“He will. He will come back. Your father and I have already spoken to Theron’s parents. They’re trying to call him as we speak. Your husband will come home to you.”

A weak, meek nod was her only response.

_____

ELEVEN o’clock.

Just an hour before midnight.

Yet, Callista remained alone in the huge house Theron’s parents had gifted them. Sitting on the edge of the cold, king-sized bed, she was surrounded by deafening silence. The room was so quiet—too quiet—that the silence seemed to pierce her ears.

Someone knocked on the door.

Three knocks. Slow and hesitant.

With her head bowed and her eyes fixed on the floor, Callista lifted her gaze in anticipation. “Theron?” She stood up, only to fall back onto the bed when the person on the other side pushed the door open and revealed herself—her personal maid.

"Madam, do you need help with anything? Shall I prepare your bath for you?" the maid asked.

Disappointment washed over Callista when she realized it wasn’t her husband.

Was he even coming home like her mother had promised?

Unable to remain still any longer, she rose from the bed and stormed out of the room. Her personal maid hurried after her. Her expression was clearly worried. “Madam, where are you going? It is already very late.”

She ignored her.

Callista left the house, climbed into her car, and drove away. Without knowing where to find her husband, she drove aimlessly for several minutes until the memory of the old olive tree came to her—it was where Theron and Isolde used to meet.

The familiar tree eventually came into view, its branches spread wide enough to shelter anyone beneath them. From several hundred feet away, Callista could only see that Theron wasn’t sitting beneath it. Instead, he just stood nearby, staring up at the dark, lonely sky. With his back turned toward her, he didn’t notice her arrival—not even the low hum of the approaching car.

The engine went silent as she turned it off. She stepped out and walked toward him.

A bottle of beer hung loosely in Theron’s hand, while many empty ones lay scattered around his feet. And judging by the bottles, he had been drinking far too much. That explained why he hadn’t heard her car or even sensed her presence. His senses were dulled by the heavy emotions consuming him at that moment.

She stepped forward, closing the distance between them. When she was near enough to touch him, Callista raised a hand toward Theron’s back but froze when she heard him call out a name. Again and again. As though he were yearning for that person with everything he had left.

“Isolde, where are you? Isolde, I do not want this either. I do not want this marriage, believe me. Come back to me, Isolde.” His voice was so pained that it sounded like something inside him was breaking. Fragile, like a glass on the brink of shattering. He was falling apart.

And hearing the pain in his voice hurt Callista ten times more.

She knew Theron loved Isolde, but she had never realized just how deeply… just how strongly.

The deeper his love for another woman ran, the deeper the crack in Callista’s heart became.

Suddenly, Theron smashed the bottle in his hand against the ground. The sharp crash of breaking glass filled the air. It was harsh. Violent. Somehow, the sound seemed to carry all the pain he could no longer contain.

Dropping to his knees, he begged anyone in the heavens who might grant his desperate plea. “Please, return Isolde to me. I just want my Isolde back. I want her back. If I couldn’t have her, then my heart is as good as dead.” His breathing came raggedly between his words. “I do not want my wife. Break her. Ruin her. I do not care. I want Callista gone. Out of my life.”