Married For Revenge, Broken By Love

Chapter2

Cecily’s POV

I woke up and the other side of the bed was empty. It was always like that.

Every morning, Keenan was gone before I opened my eyes. There was no note. No touch. No sign that we had shared a bed at all.

I sat up slowly, feeling the ache in my body from last night. The sheets still carried his scent. For a second, I let myself hold onto that.

Last night, he had wanted me…At least for a little while. I pushed the thought away and got out of bed. When I stood in front of the mirror to brush my teeth, my eyes fell to the marks on my neck and chest. I saw bite marks, hickeys. Red and dark against my skin.

Proof.

Proof that he touched me, Proof that for a few hours, I existed to him. I stared at them longer than I should have. Then I rinsed my mouth, tied my hair back, and wore one of his shirts that reached my thighs.

Downstairs, the smell of breakfast filled the house. Keenan was already seated at the table with his mother.

Of course.

He was reading something on his phone while eating. Elizabeth sat straight as always, dressed perfectly even this early. She looked like the kind of woman who never slept badly a day in her life.

I pulled a chair quietly and sat down.

“Good morning, Mother. Good morning, Keenan.”

Only Keenan answered. “Morning.”

He didn’t look at me. Not even once, Like he hadn’t been inside me last night. Like he hadn’t held my waist and kissed my neck.

I lowered my eyes and reached for the toast.

“Get me tea.”

Elizabeth didn’t look at me when she said it, but I knew who she meant. I was too tired to move.

My whole body felt heavy, and something in me was simply tired of jumping every time she spoke.

So I kept eating. Maybe if I ignored her, she’d call a maid.

“Cecily. Get me tea.” This time she looked straight at me. Her voice was harsher now. Keenan’s hand paused for one second on his fork, but he said nothing.

“I’ll call Lily to bring it, Mother,” I said quietly.

Elizabeth gave a dry laugh. “You seem to forget yourself often.”

I stayed silent.

“You think because you married Keenan Dakota, you became something?” she continued. “You think this family name belongs to you?”

My fingers tightened around my spoon.

“Before my son dragged you in here, what were you?” she said. “Nothing. Just another poor girl with nothing to offer.”

Keenan kept eating as my throat burned.

“You would still be struggling somewhere if he didn’t marry you.”

I looked at Keenan and just once, I only wanted one word. One sentence.

Anything.

He didn’t raise his head.

“We can’t even rest in this house,” Elizabeth went on. “Every night it is noise after noise. Shameless behavior.”

Heat rushed to my face.

“It seems the only thing you know how to do is open your legs. When there's even nothing to show for it”

“Mother,” Keenan said at last.

My heart jumped but Elizabeth waved a hand.

“No, let me speak. Maybe nobody else will.”

“Mother, enough.”

His voice came out harder this time. The room went quiet.

Elizabeth clicked her tongue and went back to eating, banging her cutlery louder than necessary.

Keenan continued his breakfast…Still no glance at me. Still nothing. I looked down at my plate.

I knew what she was about to say before he stopped her. The same thing she always said.

No child.

Three years of marriage and no child….That was my real crime in this house and maybe something else I wasn't aware of.

I wanted one so badly. A baby with Keenan’s eyes. A little boy with his serious face. A little girl with his smile…if he even knew how to smile anymore. But Keenan never seemed to care.

Maybe because he barely cared about me. I never understood why he disliked me so much. He never wanted this marriage. I knew that much.

Even on our wedding day, he looked like a man attending a funeral but why then did he marry me if he disliked me that much? I thought maybe he couldn't get over his late wife whom I heard died mysteriously. I heard he loved her so much but it doesn't explain how he treats me.

I tried everything.

I learned how he liked his coffee. I learned what shirts he preferred. I learned when to stay quiet and when to speak. I learned how to read his footsteps, his moods, the sound of doors closing.

Still, nothing changed…Most days, he treated me like furniture. Something in the room that happened to be there…But when he drank...

That was when another version of Keenan showed up. A warmer one and a rougher one too.

One who touched me like he needed me….One who held me close through the night….One who kissed me like I mattered. Last night had been one of those nights.

For a few hours, I had let myself believe it meant something. Then morning always came. And with it, the cold look…The distance and the silence. I swallowed hard and stood up from the table.

“I’m done,” I said softly.

Nobody answered, so I carried my plate to the kitchen myself. My hands shook as I placed it in the sink. I hated that I wanted to cry.

I hated that after three years, their words could still hurt. Most of all, I hated that I still loved him.

From the dining room, I heard Keenan’s chair scrape back. Then footsteps. My heart beat faster before I could stop it. I wiped my hands quickly and turned.

He was standing at the kitchen entrance, very tall and calm…. Expressionless

His eyes moved to the marks on my neck. Then to my face. For a second, neither of us spoke.

Then he said, cold and flat..

“Wear a scarf next time. He turned and walked away and I stood there alone.

And something inside me cracked a little more.