The Good Wife

11

"Hey, Paris." Amber slurs from the backseat.

"What?" Pariston grunts, looking at the long traffic in front of him.

"What are your opinions on the economic and political state of the world?" Amber questions, giggling to herself.

Pariston growls, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, Paris."

"Did you know there are 37.2 trillion cells in the human body. Which one of them made you into a little fucktard you are?" She asks, with a serious face.

"Shut up, Amber." Pariston growls.

"But . . . I'm not wearing a shirt." She pouts.

"Don't test my patience, you little whore. If I come into the backseat one more time, I'll rip you into shreds. Remember what I did to you the last time and keep shut for the sake of yourself." Pariston screams.

Amber rolls over, facing the other side silently. After a few minutes of silence, she turns around again, singing slowly.

"One kiss is all it takes. Fallin' in love with me. Possibilities. I loo-"

"Amber! Shut the fuck up." Pariston screams.

"Okay."

Tires screech violently as the car comes to a halt, Pariston lets out a loud sigh, stepping out. He throws the key at the guard, before yanking open the door.

He feels himself out of breath at the sight of his wife curled up in the backseat. Her silk dress clung onto her body flaunting her features, her hair framed her face, as her face glowed under the lights.

For the first time since they got married, he actually found her pretty. He always thought she didn't deserve him, and she was just lucky that she got the chance to be his wife, but today, he could actually see how pretty she is. The fear that she can get any man she wants settled into his heart as he looked at the seductress in front of him.

"Paris?" She chirps, looking up at him.

He shakes the threatening thoughts off, scooping her into his arms. She rests on her head on his shoulder, dangling her legs.

"Please don't tell my husband I was drinking." She mumbles sleepily.

"I want a dragon." She wails out after a few minutes.

"Amber, sshh. Everyone is sleeping." Pariston whisper-yells at her.

"Please get me a dragon." She hiccups, pouting at him.

"I will . . . later." He tells her, hurriedly running towards their room. He stops suddenly at the sight of his mother.

Mrs. Hemsworth looks at Amber and then at Pariston.

"Is she drunk?" She asks bitterly.

"No." Pariston says.

"You bet I am, whore." Amber screams, giggling loudly.

"Amber, shut it." Pariston growls.

"Drink some water, Paris. There's always tunnel at the end of light." Amber mumbles, patting his chest.

Mrs. Hemsworth glares at Amber, her face red in anger.

"Pariston, she needs a-"

"Mom, later." Pariston says, walking away from her.

"Why are you walking away? Maybe she wanted to talk about the political and economic state of the world." Amber whines.

He kicks open the door to his room, throwing her on the couch, before he turns around to lock the door. Pariston lets out a loud sigh, angrily opening the buttons of his blazer.