Inconvenient Bride

Chapter ONE

 Rose was staring at her wine glass when she heard the door to her bedroom open. She knew who it was but didn’t acknowledge him. She knew it was her husband even before he let out that disgusted sound in the back of his throat, and even before he spoke. “I see you’re at it again,” his voice was controlled, low yet filled with his disgust toward her.  She turned ever so slightly in her place, only so she had the smallest eye contact with the man before she took a sip of her drink and replied. “Why Chris, one would think that you cared, or it bothers you.” Seething Chris walked even further into the room and stood over the chair his wife was sitting on, she could see his anger in the depth of his eyes, in the tension in his body. “As a matter of fact, yes, it does bother me, having a wife who is only 25 years old, young and beautiful, not to mention rich and owning everything her heart desire, yet still she is resulting to the bottle. Drinking most of her days and becoming so dependent on it that she became a drunkard. A disgusting human being who can’t even suppress her need to drink at all time.”

Keeping her expression neutral, and her gaze focused on her glass, she replied her voice void of any emotion, of any of the suppressed anger and sadness. “Maybe, she isn’t happy. The wife you’re talking about, maybe all her money, youth, and beauty couldn’t buy her the happiness she is wanting. Maybe the man she married was or rather is the reason for all her misery, the reason for her drinking, and for her to resulting to drinking as you put it.”

Finally placing the glass on the table by her side she stood up and looked at the man who was supposed to be the closest to her, yet he was a stranger. A stranger she shared a house and a room with. Not that he stayed at said room any amount of time. Merely changing, using the en-suite bathroom, and then out again. “It never bothered you when you left me alone at the honeymoon suite and went out without returning, it never bothered you when you publicly humiliated me by entertaining different women daily, by the gossips that go around, and by the articles written about you, and the wife you have neglected at home. In fact, you were so careless about me, that it took you all the six months we had been married for you to discover my so-called drinking problem. And I bet if not for your sister to mention it to you, you wouldn’t have been the wiser, so stop with your lectures and just go use the bathroom, or get dressed and leave, go to the woman who is going to spend the night with you, and don’t fake concern about me and my drinking, I’m quite satisfied with my life as it is.”

Saying that she turned around, and just to spite him, she drank the rest of her glass in one big mouthful. She then walked by him, clearly not wishing to talk to him any longer, and not even interested in hearing what he had to say in response to all her claims, and went to the bathroom. Undressing she entered the shower cabin. Turning the tap, she didn’t care the water was still too cold, she didn’t care that it hurt her flesh and her skin was turning red and prickled because of the coldness. In fact, she couldn’t feel it, or the coldness. All that she could feel was the pain, and the humiliation when she remembered how her newly groom entered the honeymoon suite with her, showing her over to the bedroom, then with cold eyes –colder than the water she was showering in– said; “Congrats, you got yourself a husband, now, enjoy your night, I don’t care whatever you enjoy it alone getting a decent night sleep or with someone else, playing your groom. Just don’t expect me to play that role, for all what it’s worth I don’t consider myself your groom, and you will do good to yourself by not considering yourself as my bride.” Then he left her standing there, open-mouthed in shock and speechless, not knowing what to say. Not that she had a big chance to say much, it took him less than a minute before he was out again. She remembered how many hours she sat there on the bed unmoving, unthinking, just staring, staring at the big bed with the rose petals scattered on it, staring at the ice bucket with the champagne and the flutes by its side. Then she turned to look at the fruit basket and a tear trickled down her cheek. It was like everything in that room was mocking her, mocking that marriage, and her tears as well. She wished that it was one cruel joke, she wished it was a prank, and hope, oh how she hoped for the door to open again and for him to reenter with a big smile on his face, telling her that he had fooled her, that she fell for his prank. But that never happened, he never returned, no matter how much she wished it, no matter how much time went by. At some time she finally made herself stand up, take a shower, got off the beautiful wedding dress, and finally forced herself to catch a couple of hours of sleep, troubled sleep, with his parting words repeating themselves in her mind and her dreams. Then when the first sign of the morning started, she got up, gathered her things, dressed in the jeans and top she had taken with her, and sunglasses to cover her red-rimmed and puffy eyes. She still until now, months later could remember the raised eyebrows, the speculating, and the pity in the receptionist's eyes. She tried her best to be professional, but Rose couldn’t blame her, it wasn’t every day you would meet a bride checking out of the honeymoon suite in the c***k of dawn, and alone.

Shaking the memory off of her mind, she reached for the shampoo, but the violent shaking of her hand made her stop, and finally registering the cold water, the coldness that had taken over her body, and then instead of the shampoo, she turned the tap off, and quickly got herself out of the cabin. She dried her body while the only noise that could be heard in the bathroom was the chattering of her teeth. “Serves me right if I get sick for my stupidity. When will I learn to not let that hurt me again?” She asked herself, her moves jerky, and angry. Angry with herself, angry for remembering her humiliation, angry because she once again shed tears because of that man, angry because he still had the power to hurt her like that, to numb her, and to make her feel worthless, and then he had the audacity to ask her why she was drinking.

With a towel covering her still shivering body, and smaller one on her head, she opened the door, to find wide chest and shoulders blocking her way. Looking up, her eyes stared at the darker ones of her husband, and she couldn’t read them, couldn’t read his mind. “Move a bit, let me come through.” She said, her voice low, and her eyes on his, but instead of doing that, he did the opposite and moved closer to her. “W-what are you doing?” She asked suddenly feeling nervous by his closeness and by the change of look on his eyes. Was he playing another game with her? Or was it another hit to humiliate her further? He already did that, was her first thought, when she remembered his greeting words to her, just half an hour ago, or so. Her eyes darted back to his and widened a bit when she heard his next sentence, “you seem to still regret that you didn’t have a wedding night,” his voice low and close to her ear, and Rose could feel her nervousness getting more to her. She wasn’t sure how to take those words, was he taunting her? But his looks the intensity in his eyes and the huskiness, in his voice didn’t suggest that. While trying to dodge him and move into the room, she went with a safer and a truthful reply. “More than regret not having it, I regret the humiliation I went through the next morning when I checked out by myself, without my supposed groom. Regretting the looks I got from the receptionist when I checked out, regretting the pity.” Her words were said fast and just as low as his, but when she merely finished her words and took a step away from him, she felt his arm around her waist, his hand clasping her side and then with one swift move, brought her closer to him. So close that their bodies were touching and their mouths an inch or so apart. “I think we both are ready for that wedding night now, don’t you?”