Chapter Eight: I Do Not Fit In.
1181 Words
Amara
I didn’t even hear the rest of the dinner after that.
Everything became a blur of expensive cutlery, stiff silence, and Ethan’s father staring at me like I had personally crawled out of the depths of hell just to ruin his evening. One stupid sentence. One tiny comparison. That was all it took to destroy the atmosphere.
The heavy doors had barely closed behind Ethan’s parents before the storm hit.
Ethan didn’t waste a second.
“You just had to open your stupid mouth, huh?” he roared.
His voice echoed violently through the massive living room as he yanked at his tie in frustration. The expensive black fabric loosened around his neck while anger radiated off him in waves.
I flinched.
Not because he moved toward me.
Because disappointment always hurt more when it came from someone you desperately wanted approval from.
“Hey,” I snapped back weakly, trying to defend myself despite the lump in my throat. “Don’t call my mouth stupid. I was just standing up for my husba—”
I couldn’t even finish.
Ethan stormed toward me so fast my breath caught. His finger pointed sharply in my face, his blue eyes blazing with fury.
“Don’t you dare call me your husband.”
The words sliced through me instantly.
For a second, I just stared at him.
God, he looked beautiful when he was angry.
And that honestly made me hate him more.
His white dress shirt clung tightly to his body, the sleeves rolled slightly past his wrists, veins visible beneath his skin. His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass, and his cold blue eyes looked almost unreal under the golden chandelier lights.
Unapologetically handsome.
Absolutely unbearable.
“I can’t believe you,” I whispered.
Ethan let out a humorless laugh before walking toward the minibar tucked at the corner of the room. Every movement he made was sharp and controlled, but I could feel the rage underneath it all.
“What?” he scoffed while pouring himself a drink. “I can’t believe myself too.”
The ice cubes clinked harshly against the glass.
“Justin warned me,” he continued bitterly. “He said I should’ve looked for someone else, but I still decided to stick with you.” He turned toward me suddenly, voice rising again. “I f*****g said I could handle it!”
Before I could react, he hurled the glass across the room.
CRASH!
The glass shattered violently against the wall beside me.
I jumped so hard my back hit the chair behind me. My heart slammed painfully against my ribs while shards scattered across the marble floor.
The silence afterward felt terrifying.
“You should’ve just let me get a damn divorce!” I yelled back, tears burning my eyes now.
Ethan stared at me for a long moment.
Then he nodded once. Slowly. Coldly.
“That’s too late now,” he said. “You met the Blackwoods.”
Something about the way he said it made chills crawl down my spine.
Like I had unknowingly stepped into something much bigger than myself.
Without another word, he turned and walked upstairs toward his dark bedroom, disappearing into the shadows without looking back once.
The second he was gone, my body gave out.
I sank into one of the gold-trimmed chairs near the living room fireplace, my shoulders collapsing under the weight of humiliation.
I did it again.
I ruined everything.
Hot tears spilled down my cheeks faster now, smearing mascara beneath my eyes. I wiped at them angrily with the back of my hand, but more kept coming.
Why was I like this?
Why couldn’t I just act normal for once?
I thought about the dinner again. The uncomfortable silence after my comment. Ethan’s father glaring at me. His mother avoiding eye contact completely.
God.
I buried my face in my hands with a broken sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh.
Even in billionaire houses, I still found ways to embarrass myself.
A soft warmth touched my shoulders gently.
I already knew who it was before looking up.
Eunice.
She always moved quietly, almost gracefully, like she never wanted to disturb anyone around her.
“I messed it up,” I whispered weakly.
Eunice walked around the chair and sat beside me carefully. Even now, dressed in her simple uniform, she looked elegant in a way I could never manage. Her dark skin glowed softly beneath the lights, and her calm brown eyes held nothing but patience.
“You’ll get it right next time,” she said softly.
I looked at her properly then.
Really looked at her. At how composed she was. How gentle. How she somehow always knew exactly what to say.
And before I could stop myself, the question slipped out.
“Why didn’t you volunteer to be his wife?”
Eunice blinked. “What?”
“You heard me,” I muttered, sniffling. “You’re calm, organized, pretty… normal.” I gestured vaguely toward myself. “Unlike me.”
A small smile appeared on her lips.
“Oh no, my lady,” she said quietly. “You are perfect for Sir.”
I stared at her in disbelief.
Perfect?
Me?
The woman who compared a billionaire to a rabbit during dinner?
“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” I mumbled miserably.
“No.”
“Yes, you are.”
She shook her head gently.
“This is your first time in this kind of world,” she explained patiently. “You’re learning. That’s all.”
Learning. The word somehow made me feel worse.
“This is my first expensive meeting with anyone,” I cried out suddenly, my emotions spilling over again. “And I messed it up badly!”
My voice cracked embarrassingly at the end.
Fresh tears rolled down my face as I covered it again.
God, I was so tired of crying.
Eunice moved closer before slowly rubbing soothing circles against my back.
“You know what I think?” she asked softly.
“What?”
“I think Sir was angrier because he cared.”
I frowned immediately, peeking at her through my fingers.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Mr. Blackwood usually doesn’t react emotionally to people,” she explained carefully. “But with you… he reacts to everything.”
I scoffed weakly. “Yeah. Like I’m some disease.”
A tiny laugh escaped her.
“No,” she said gently. “Like you disturb his peace.”
The room fell quiet after that. My breathing slowly steadied while I stared down at my trembling hands.
Disturb his peace. Maybe I did.
Ethan Blackwood’s world was polished marble floors, perfect manners, expensive suits, and controlled emotions.
And then there was, me.
I clung to her uniform, mascara staining the fabric, but she didn’t pull away. In that moment, wrapped in her quiet comfort, I felt seen for the first time since stepping into this cold, terrifying new world.
Even if my husband wished I had never existed.
- Writer
