Chapter 5: Misery In Velvet
1210 Words
Chapter 5:Misery in Velvet
My eyes glared at my screen in disappointment. I ran to check if Dylan had called or not. Even after two days of leaving for his business trip.
My disappointment tripled when the random system notification flashed on my screen.
Even if he couldn't call, returning my message would be just enough to quench the terrible uproar inside me.
I just needed to know he was fine, but telling from his actions, it seemed to be too much information for me.
I couldn't say it was unlike him, he never called willingly.
But this side of me was still waiting desperately.
I dialed his number, waiting for another ring and then for the automated response to repeat “The person you're trying to reach is busy, please leave a voicemail" for the umpteenth time but this time,... I was wrong.
"Hello, Stella” His voice was like bronze wrapped in silk, his normal tone thickened with roughness and seduction that tickled my brain.
"Why didn't you reach out to me?” My questioning tone returned. No matter how pleasant his voice seemed, I had more than a thousand reasons to be mad. My tone was more of an angry woman who was ready to whip his butt at the slightest chance.
"Um…I, we just ended our business meeting now. And I'm really tired" He kept it short and rusty.
I didn't bother to ask for more details when he yawned tiredly. Was I to believe that?! Even when he stammered??
“Oh! Sorry about that," I didn't realize until it dropped from my mouth. Was it what he deserved?? An apology?? For not calling or even returning my messages??
“Dylan, I am not a child. Did you hold a meeting for two days straight??
Couldn't you have called to at least say something about your whereabouts? I was worried, what do I even mean to you? Does it sound okay that your wife knew nothing and couldn't reach you for almost 3 full days?" I shouted at the top of my voice but when he repeated “hello", I realized everything I'd said was in my head.
My lips hadn't moved at all.
“Have you eaten?" I asked him, my smile lines gaining more definition as my lips thinned into a line.
If only he'd answered before hanging up, maybe I would have slept peacefully.
I got off my bed, throwing my phone between the pillows as I headed outside my room.
The best I could think of was an evening walk. To calm and soothe every negative emotion that was stirring up inside of me.
I strode towards the door, my eyes turning watery. I wanted to break out. Cry. Wail. Sob. Do it.
I hated being all alone in a mansion as big as this. I'd relieved the maids of their duties since he was leaving but the more I thought about it, the more I realized how much of a mistake I'd made.
I wanted to walk. But again, I didn't want to. Maybe breaking down in the living area was fine. It was the exact spot where my brain ticked and replayed how he announced his travel to me.
“I'll be going on a business trip. Make sure you don't feel lonely" He even patted me after saying it.
It was obvious. I'd entered into this journey and there was no going back. Just endurance and living.
Go deeper, baby.
You're damn good, girl.
A mix of shame and anger ran through me as memories of our makeout played in my head but soon vanished immediately the doorbell rang. I ignored because I wasn't expecting anyone at this moment.
I grabbed my hair, my grip getting tighter till I remembered how much hair fallout it'd cost me.
Tears fell from my eyes, each sob failing to explain how I really felt.
My skin bled to be rubbed against another someone's. My lips yearned to crash into someone's.
I'd spent two days and he wasn't f*****g here…when I finally called, it seemed he was avoiding me.
Each time I thought of him, the more it made my heart slam against my ribs.
I knew I'd made the decision to marry him, according to my parents' wishes, but it didn't seem like I wanted to.
Maybe I didn't know what I wanted.
“People have happy marriages through arranged marriages," according to my parents.
To them, it all depended on me.
Perhaps they saw me as some kind of superstar who could snap her fingers and make this marriage work.
I needed cooperation from him and he was doing nothing! Nothing entirely!
Even before he left for New York, we hardly talked until the day we had s*x. That was our first intimate time as a couple and how we rounded it up was nothing to write home about.
Maybe he saw me as some commodity. Perhaps I wasn't to his taste. Or perhaps, it was quite hard to love me.
I hated the mixed signals. I hated how he made me feel loved and then, removed the emotional support and validation all of a sudden.
I hated how he made me feel worthless, but I wished I could hate him too.
I hated that I loved how I felt around him….at least, he made me smile, he made me feel cherished while we were still dating.
The doorbell rang again but I made my way to check again. It was him.
The tall, tanned, muscular…
He looked like someone I’d seen before—someone who had made my pulse quicken once. But I refused to believe it. Maybe it was just the dim evening light playing tricks on me
“What do you want, Mr. Man?"My voice rang like lightning as memories of where we'd met played in my head.
My puffy eyes and hoarse voice were the last things I cared about at that point.
He was the player guy! The guy I'd almost approached for his phone number.
"I..I—” I cut him off with a smirk.
"So, you're suddenly speechless now, right? I know how it is, you player. I'll advise you to leave this estate now before I call the security on you,” I slammed the door in his face.
I knew I was acting out of frustration. I was really zoning out. I really was.
Evening faded into night and I remained in the house, totally alone in the house that was as silent as a graveyard.
I threw myself in my bed, about to call it a day but I could no longer hold it in..
I dialed his phone number and he picked up the call.
“Hello, Dylan," I repeated, waiting for him to speak but he didn't.
He was quiet.
“Hello, who are you?" A woman asked softly.
I brought the phone off my ear, just to confirm I hadn't dialed the wrong number but the caller ID still confirmed.
I stared at the screen. No. My heart pounded as I realized—this wasn’t him.
Whoever was on the other end wasn’t my husband.
Was he cheating on me?
But why did it feel like a warning?
- Writer
