But my retreat was swiftly thwarted by Charles, who seemed entangled in his theatrics.
He insisted that I looked unwell and declared his intent to escort me to the hospital.
Swept under his assertive guidance, I couldn't help but feel at a loss.
Was this feeble attempt at chivalry merely to ensure a smooth exit, or was he genuinely concerned?
A quick examination confirmed that I was hypoglycemic, something I had lived with for years.
Despite my assurances that I always kept sugar on hand, Charles pelted the doctor with endless questions about my condition.
This sudden interest perplexed me.
Was this some manifestation of his belated concern?
As we exited the hospital, locked in an uncomfortable silence, the day's chaotic carousel was still spinning in my head.
As the car rested at a red signal, Charles broke the silence with an unexpected question.
"Why haven't you ever mentioned this to me?"
His query took me aback. Did he genuinely expect me to have confided in him about my condition?
Once we were home, the all-encompassing silence still loomed, omnipresent.
Seizing the opportunity, I presented Charles with the pre-prepared divorce agreement, hoping he'd come forward with revisions if needed.
As he skimmed through the pages, his face transformed into a mask of icy defiance, and he pushed the agreement away, declaring,
"I disagree!"
I was prepared to oblige, assuming he might object to specific clauses.
But his declaration left me utterly dumbfounded —
"I disagree with the divorce."
His rejection couldn't have been more apparent.
"Why?"
My question echoed in the silent room.
Suddenly, a painful realization began to dawn upon me.
To Charles, I had been a perfect socialite wife — someone who helped him portray the ideal image he desired.
The notion of love was lost in the static.
I ended our painful silence with a bitter laugh,
"Do you even know who you love, Charles? Because it's certainly not me."
The truth in my words echoed painfully, but it had needed to be said.
His theatrics, manipulations, and blatant disregard for my feelings affirmed one thing — his concern for me wasn't born out of love but conscious necessity.
YOU ARE READING
Love After Marriage
RomanceI was the perfect wife for five years, but he never loved me. He only had eyes for her, his first love. So I decided to end our marriage and move out. But a week later, he showed up at my door. "Divorce?" He looked at me with red eyes. "Say that aga...
