I wake up, take a shower, and after getting dressed, I order breakfast to my room. Yesterday, I barely ate anything.
I plan to make use of the day to finalize the details of my trip. Our company is in the process of expanding, and the intention is to start working internationally. Since I already had my honeymoon trip scheduled, I will take advantage of those days off from university to personally take charge of the business with the Russians. It would have been impossible before; my parents wouldn't allow it, but I must take control of my own life.
Someone knocks on the door, and I quickly open it.
"Oh, it's you."
"Yes, it's me. Were you expecting someone else?" Nicolas asks in a not-so-friendly tone.
"Yes, I was expecting my breakfast," I reply. He slightly nods his head.
"My lawyer will be here soon. If you want, we can have breakfast at the hotel's restaurant while we wait."
"Alright, let me cancel what I ordered," I call and do so. "Done." I grab my purse, and we leave the room.
"It's good that we're getting through this," I casually tell him as we enter the elevator. He remains silent.
We find ourselves sitting at a table in the restaurant, and a waiter approaches to take our orders.
"Is it really that bad being married to me?" he asks.
"What? I don't understand."
"That's it. You seem happy about being able to divorce, and it's not that I care, just curious."
"Well, I don't know if it's good or bad, but it's not something I want to find out. Changing the subject, do I need a lawyer?"
"No, since we have no assets to divide, and it's a mutual agreement. In fact, we'll request an expedited divorce."
"I need to leave the country."
"Is it because it hurts losing your little boyfriend that you're planning to run away?"
"Are you always this irritating?"
"It's strange, you're the first person to say that. Everyone else says I'm attractive, interesting, unattainable. But irritating? That's something new. Could it be that you actually like me and don't know how to express it?"
"I would never be interested in someone like you."
"That's not what you were saying that night," he says with complete nonchalance. That was the last straw.
"What did you just say? Are you talking about the night you took advantage of my drunken state and abused me? The night I lost my virginity to a complete stranger? You're an idiot, stupid, miserable... You know what? I've lost my appetite. Excuse me," I say calmly, standing up from the table.
"Aren't you going to wait for the lawyer?"
"No, I have more pressing matters to attend to."
"You're a stubborn, headstrong, and spoiled girl. But you're not going to play games with me, especially not the victim.," he stands up as he speaks and leans towards me from his side of the table, bringing his face close to mine. "I could also say that it was you who abused me. But no, because supposedly that's what newlyweds do, and by that time, you and I were already married. So you're going to sit your damn self in that chair, and we're going to solve this problem, dear wife."
"For the first time, we agree on something. When I set my mind to it, I can be stubborn, headstrong, and spoiled. So, I won't put my beautiful ass in that damn chair. In fact, look at how I'm leaving." With firm steps, I exit the place, leaving him with an expression that says absolutely nothing, and that bothers me.
Once outside the hotel, I hail a taxi on the street. I urgently need to go back to my parents' house and find out where we stand. It's not easy for me to let go of what I love the most: my family.
I arrive at my parents' house, and surprisingly, I have to be announced by the security staff. Ten minutes pass, and they finally allow my entry. I walk through the main garden towards the entrance, and it feels longer than usual. It's strange how yesterday I left here, and I already feel like a stranger to this place.
"Go ahead, your parents are waiting for you," one of the many employees greets me.
"Thank you."
I quickly approach my father's study, where he usually deals with "delicate" matters, whether they are family or business-related. It seems to be a space that grants him calmness. It's important for him to feel in control of everything.
I knock on the door.
"Come in," my father's voice responds.
"Hello," I stay standing near the door.
"Have a seat," my mother replies, standing beside my father, who remains seated in the grand patriarch chair. "Yes, it's sarcasm."
After I sit, I decide to speak.
"Dad, Mom. I'm sorry about what happened, but if you had listened to me... Maybe..."
"Maybe what?! You wouldn't have acted like a vulgar woman from the streets?" Mom reproaches. Yes, that's Mrs. Mariela de Brown, not hesitating to insult or hurt anyone, not even her own daughter.
"Mariela, this isn't the time for insults." I look at Dad with a grateful gaze. "She made a mistake and needs to rectify it."
"I don't understand. How can I rectify it? If you're referring to that man..."
"Just listen. She doesn't even know the name of the man she married, and yet you believe she can fix something." Again, Mom throws the dart.
"Both of you, be quiet. Anna, while it's a disgrace and embarrassment you've brought upon our name, I have done some inquiries. Nicholas Thompson is a promising prospect, even better than Matt, and although I would have preferred things to proceed as planned, what's done is done. I want you to bring him home; I need to talk to him."
"He asked me for a divorce..."
"What did he do?!" Mom is on the verge of collapsing.
"That's why he came," I affirm.
"Perfect. What were the terms of the marriage?" Dad asks.
"I don't remember well; I was drunk." I lower my head.
"Were you both drunk?"
"Yes, or at least I think so."
"If both of you were drunk, it's impossible for there to be signed prenuptial agreements," Dad says in a very low tone, more for himself than for us. "Based on your words at the church, I can deduce that the marriage was consummated, is that correct?"
I just nod my head, somewhat ashamed. It's not very pleasant to discuss this topic with my parents, perhaps it's normal in other families, but not in mine; my parents have never been particularly inclined to address such matters.
"Tell him to come; we'll discuss the terms of the divorce if that's what he wants. Once you have half of his fortune, it won't be difficult to find a good husband, even Matt will want to return."
"What are you saying?! Are you even listening to yourself?! If that were the case, you wouldn't treat me like a damn gold mine to take advantage of! I'm your daughter! Do you not have even a little bit of love for me?" He doesn't answer, and that's worse.
I look at Mom, who has decided not to intervene anymore and just observes her manicure, showing total disinterest.
"THAT'S ENOUGH! I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR FOOLISH ACTIONS, EACH ONE WORSE THAN THE LAST. I'VE TRIED TO BE PATIENT, BUT WITH YOU, IT'S IMPOSSIBLE." Dad stands up, forcefully hitting the table as he yells. "IT'S EITHER THAT OR YOU FORGET THAT YOU HAVE A FAMILY."
"And have I ever really had one?" I look at both of them, get up, and quickly leave that place. I enter what used to be my room for many years and where I now feel like a complete intruder. I try not to think, grab my briefcase, pack my laptop, some university materials, my cellphone, documents, and the keys to my motorcycle. I need to cry, but it won't be in this house, not in front of them. I head to the parking lot, getting on my motorcycle. I accelerate as much as I can, and the breeze carries away my tears, I wish it could also take away the pain. I don't know how long I've been driving; I snap out of it thanks to the loud sound of a vehicle braking abruptly to avoid hitting me, as apparently, I ran a red light. Nevertheless, I don't stop until a few meters ahead when I realize I'm not wearing a helmet. In this part of the city, there are no buildings, only grass and a few trees. I sit on the edge of the road and let the tears flow freely.
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