Chapter 10: The Man Who Freezes
1013 Words
Adrian Vale doesn’t change loudly.
There is no explosions.
No confession.
No dramatic cruelty that announce itself.
He simply withdraw warmth.
And that’s far the worse.
The shift is subtle at first.
A pause where there it used to be acknowledged.
A silence where there is used to be conversations.
A hand that no longer touches, not because it can’t, but because it won’t.
Adrian stop pretending we're married.
He start treating me like property a under review.
“Evelyn” disappeared.
In its place.
“My wife.”
“Her.”
“Leave it.”
When he does say my name, it's a sharp like he is testing whether it still belong to me or if it’s something he could take away.
Names are power.
He knows that.
He change the house rules.
Security tightened without any explanation.
Rooms are being restricted.
My phone is “misplaced” for hours.
When I ask calmly, he would replied.
“For your safety.”
I almost laughed.
Safety has never lived in this crazy house.
It happened at the dinner.
In front of others.
That’s how I know it is intentional.
A board member make a careless joke about loyalty.
Adrian gaze slides to me.
“Some people,” he said coolly, “mistake proximity for importance.”
The table goes quiet.
So quiet.
I didn't react.
I lift my glass.
Take a sip.
And watch irritation flicker across his face.
He wanted a flinch.
But he won't get one.
Days has passed.
Then weeks.
He did not argue.
Didn't shout.
Doesn’t explain.
He just simply ignored.
Conversation end when I enter the room.
Meetings relocate without any notice.
Decisions are made without my knowledge.
It’s erasure by inches and inches.
Men like Adrian doesn’t hit what they think they can erase.
“You’re imagining things.” he said when I confront him.
“Stress makes people dramatic.”
I tilt my head.
“Does it?”
He step closer.
“You’ve always been so emotional,” he added softly. “I know that when I married you.”
A lie.
A freaking lie.
But a dangerous one because repetition turned lies into furniture people stop noticing.
I smile faintly.
“If that were true.” I say, “You wouldn’t be trying so hard to control me.”
His jaw tighten.
---
I attend an charity event without him.
Perfectly legal.
Perfectly proper.
He didn’t ’t speak to me for past three days afterward.
On the fourth, he cancels my access to the foundation accounts.
“You embarrassed me.” he said calmly.
I meet his gaze.
“And you’re afraid of me.”
He didn’t deny it.
That scares him more than anger could ever do.
Staff watches carefully.
They won't meet my eyes.
Not because they fear me.
But because they fear him.
The message is clear.
Distance is a survival.
I don’t blame them.
Fears travel faster than a loyalty.
At a private dinner with investors, he interrupts me in a mid-sentence.
“You wouldn’t understand.” he said smoothly. “This is business.”
Mens laugh politely.
I smile.
Later all alone, he said “Don’t speak unless I invite you.”
I look at him. “So this is who you are now?”
“No,” he replied. “This is who I need to be.”
There it is.
A fear disguised as necessity.
My movements are log.
My schedule “manage.”
My freedom reduced to permission.
Not demanded.
But granted.
That’s the cruelty.
Control that pretend to be care.
One night, he corner me in the study room.
No threat.
No raised voice.
Just pressure.
“You know more than you should.” he said.
“So do you.”
“You’re closer to this than you admit.”
I meet his eyes. “Are you accusing me?”
“No,” he replied. “I’m reminding you who decide truth in this house.”
A mistake.
Truth doesn’t belong to men.
Especially like him.
It hunt them.
Sometimes it's isolate.
Sometimes it convinces you that silence is nothing but a safer world than resistance.
Sometimes it wear the face of a man who once promise a protection and now delivered control instead.
Adrian think cruelty will make me fold.
Yet he doesn’t realize I was shaped by worse.
He forgot I learned survival before him.
That I grew up watching power abuse itself suffocate me.
That I recognize pattern long before they escalate.
He mistakes restraint for weakness.
That will cost him everything one by one.
It happened quietly.
I realize no longer hurt.
No longer angry.
Just clear.
This is not love curdled.
This is fear asserting dominance.
And fear always overplayed it's hand.
“You exist because of me.” he say one night.
"Your here because of me and you will not live if I go" he added.
The words hang there like a vines hanging in my throat.
Ugly.
Final.
Something inside me go stills.
Not broken.
But finished.
I nod slowly.
“If that’s what you believe.” I say.
He doesn’t see the danger in my face.
Men never do.
He never did.
Adrian Vale become colder.
More controlled.
Sharper.
More abusive in a ways that leave no marks.
He believed he is reclaiming power.
He believes I’ll shrink.
Obey.
Disappear.
Yet he doesn’t understand, cold doesn’t kill what’s already learned to live without any fear.
It’s harden it.
No fear.
No tears.
Just intention.
“He change.” I whisper.
So did I.
The difference?
He changed to survive.
I changed to end this s**t.
After this, there will be no pretending.
No restraining.
No share a space that feels neutral.
He has crossed from suspicions into controls.
From control into abused.
And abused always create something worse than rebellions.
It creates resolved.
And for the first time since marrying Adrian.
I sleep without needing his shadow.
Because the moment a man tried to erase you.
He teach you exactly how to erase him back again.
- Writer
