Chapter 4
2061 Words
Hazel’s POV
“You should just stay in the house if I am not there to look after you,” Julian told me this morning.
He said it like he was protecting me. He made it sound like the world was a jagged, dangerous place and I was too fragile to navigate it alone. I used to believe him. I used to think his control was just a form of deep affection.
But as I sat in the back of the taxi, watching the city lights blur past the window, I knew the truth. I did not fear the world. I feared being seen with him. I hated the way people looked at us when we walked together. I could see the question in their eyes before they even opened their mouths. They wondered how a man like Julian, so polished and perfect, ended up with a wife who could not even walk straight.
“Driver, please stop here,” I said suddenly.
The car jerked to a halt. My heart skipped a beat. I had spotted Julian’s black sedan parked right at the curb in front of a high-end restaurant.
I remembered Penelope’s post from earlier. Julian was hosting his friends today. It was supposed to be a private lunch, a way to return the favor for a dinner they had gone to the night before. Without thinking, I paid the driver and stepped out onto the sidewalk. My bad leg felt heavy, but I forced myself to move toward the entrance.
The hostess looked up with a professional smile. “Welcome. Do you have a reservation?”
“I am meeting the Daniel party,” I said. I recited the last digits of Julian’s phone number.
The woman checked her tablet and nodded. “Right this way. They are in the private room at the end of the hall.”
I followed her, my pulse drumming in my ears. Why was I doing this? I should have stayed in the cab. I should have gone to the hotel as I planned. By the time we reached the heavy wooden door of the dining room, my hands were shaking.
“Here you are,” the hostess whispered before walking away.
I stood there, staring at the handle. I could hear them inside. There was the sound of clinking glass and loud, easy laughter.
“I cannot stay out late,” a man’s voice boomed. I recognized him as one of Julian’s oldest friends. “I went home drunk last night and my wife almost took my head off. She did not stop yelling until sunrise.”
“Are you even a man anymore?” Penelope’s voice followed, sounding like dripping honey. “You used to be so tough. Now you are just a lapdog. At least Juli still knows how to be a leader.”
I bit my lip. Penelope sounded so different when she was around men. She was playful and soft. She was exactly the kind of woman people expected to see on the arm of a man like Julian. She was everything I was not.
“Juli is a special case,” another man laughed. “Hazel would never dream of yelling at him. She knows how lucky she is to have him, right?”
“Speaking of Hazel,” Penelope said, her tone turning curious. “Juli, is it true she has a limp? I heard something happened to her leg. What is the story there?”
No one answered her. The silence in the room felt heavy, but it did not last long.
“Honestly, Juli, we all feel for you,” the first man said. “You have the looks, the money, and the brain. You could have your pick of any woman in this city. Why did you settle for a cripple?”
My breath hitched. I leaned closer to the door, my chest tight.
“It is true,” a second man added. “You go to these big galas and press conferences alone because you cannot take her anywhere. Do you ever feel like you are missing out on having a real partner?”
I leaned my head against the cold wood of the door. So this was the reason. Julian always told me I did not need to worry about his business life. He told me to stay home and relax while he handled the stress of the world. My parents called him a saint. They told me every day how blessed I was that he chose me.
Now I understood. He was not protecting me from the world. He was protecting his reputation from me. He was ashamed.
Then, I heard Julian’s voice. It sounded tired. “I owe her. I am just trying to pay back a debt.”
“You have given her more money than she could spend in a lifetime,” the friend countered. “That is plenty of payment. Why do you have to stay married to her? Why throw your whole life away for a mistake?”
“Seriously,” another voice chimed in. “You could have married a beautiful woman and been happy. What is the point of a wife who cannot help you with your work? She probably cannot even bring you a glass of water without spilling it all over herself.”
The room erupted in a fresh wave of laughter. It was a cruel, sharp sound that sliced right through me.
“Wait, wait!” Penelope shrieked with delight. “Is this how she does it? Is this how your wife walks, Juli?”
I heard the sound of a chair scraping back. I could not stop myself. I pushed the door open just enough to see inside.
Michael, one of the guys Julian grew up with, was in the middle of the floor. He held a glass of water in one hand. He was hunched over, dragging his left foot behind him in a dramatic, mocking circle. He twisted his face into a grimace and pitched his voice high and whiny.
“Oh, Juli! Juli, look at me! I am bringing you some water! Oops!”
He pretended to stumble, splashing water onto the rug. The others roared with laughter. Penelope was doubled over, clutching her stomach.
I looked at Julian. He was sitting at the head of the table, watching the performance. He did not look angry. He did not look disgusted. He just looked bored.
My face burned with a heat I had never felt before. It was a mix of pure rage and a shame so deep I felt like I might disappear. I waited for him to say something. I waited for him to tell them to shut up. I waited for him to tell them that I was his wife and deserved respect.
I stared at him, my heart pounding against my ribs. I was desperate for a single sign that he cared.
“Is that the best you can do, Michael?” Julian finally asked, his voice calm.
Michael grinned and took another limping step toward the table. “Juli, come pick me up! I fell down again!”
I shoved the door all the way open. The heavy wood hit the wall with a loud bang.
The laughter died instantly. The room went so quiet I could hear the hum of the air conditioner. Every pair of eyes turned toward the door. I stood there, my hand gripping the frame so hard my knuckles turned white. I did not look at Penelope or the men mocking me. I looked straight at my husband.
“Does the debt feel paid yet, Julian?” I asked.
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