Chapter 4

MONDAY. A whole month had passed in Vanessa’s life, but to her, it felt like only a week. Her husband Gian had become even harsher with her. What’s worse, he even started bringing men into their house.

Well, his house. It was like he was showing her that she didn’t even exist in his life. That was always Gian—ignoring everything she did, treating her like nothing.

She remembered one day; she happily decorated the guest room because she wanted to sleep there. She wasn’t comfortable staying in the maid’s quarters. But Gian got so angry when he saw what she did, and it turned into a fight.

He said she had no right to interfere, because it wasn’t her house. She should be content with what she had. And yes, it was true—so she had no choice but to accept his decision and his anger.

“Deep in thought, huh? You almost drowned in it,” her cousin Sharon teased, sitting beside her. Sharon had just gotten married that day, wearing the wedding gown they worked on together.

The gown looked so perfect on her cousin. It was actually the wedding gown she had once dreamed of wearing herself. Sharon wanted a different style, but she made the gown she had always wished to wear on her wedding day—a dream that never came true.

She gently shook her head and turned to her cousin.

“Why that face? You look like it’s Holy Week,” Sharon laughed, then turned serious. “Did you fight again with your gay husband?”

“Ate…”

“What now? Are you going to defend that ex-best friend of mine again?” Sharon referred to Gian.

She lowered her eyes to her phone. She didn’t answer. What was the point of denying it? Just yesterday, Gian brought home another man.

In his house, duh! Even if he brought a million men home, she had no say. Fine! Let’s see if you don’t get sick from all that. You’re driving me crazy, Gian! she muttered under her breath.

“Don’t be a martyr, Vanessa. You’re making yourself look stupid,” Sharon sighed, then forced a bitter smile. “But if that’s really what you want, then I’ll just stand by you in your stupidity.”

She hugged her cousin tightly. “I really, really love him, Ate.”

“Don’t worry. Gian will wake up one day.”

I hope so, Ate… I really hope so, she wished silently. But would it always just be hope?

Later, feeling thirsty, she went to the water dispenser. She wasn’t in the mood for soda or alcohol. She just wanted water. She grabbed a cup, but before she could pour, someone got there first. She frowned and looked up—it was him.

“You again?” she snapped. The guy from the tricycle. The one she told had smelly armpits. She almost laughed at the thought.

“Don’t worry. I put on deodorant. Smells good now—you can even check,” the guy joked, then walked away.

Without thinking, she followed him with her eyes. To her shock, he went straight to her cousin’s husband, Sir Lloyd. What’s his connection to him? she wondered.

Her phone suddenly rang. Panic hit her. What if it’s Gian again, looking for me? She hadn’t even told him properly that she’d be at her cousin’s wedding. He hadn’t wanted her to go at all. They had fought about it while finishing Sharon’s wedding gown.

Back then, Sharon had confronted Gian about bringing men into the house. Anyone could see how wrong that was. But Gian, being Gian, got furious. He shouted, broke things, and screamed that it was none of their business.

He even tried to hit Sharon, but she quickly stepped in—so she became the target of his anger instead. After all, Gian was much stronger than she was.

Honestly, she can’t even recognize her husband anymore. Gian had become a monster. He wouldn’t let her leave the house without his permission.

Her dad knew nothing about his son-in-law’s behavior, and she had no plans to tell him. She still clung to the hope that Gian would change—even if that hope was close to impossible.

Quickly, she rummaged through her bag for her phone. Gian always got mad if she didn’t answer right away. She sighed in relief when she saw the name “Mae” on the screen instead of her husband’s.

Why isn’t Mae here today? she thought, before answering.

She cleared her throat. “Mae?” she said calmly, though her heart was still racing.

On the other line, Mae was crying.

“Hey, Mae? What happened? Why are you crying?” she asked in panic.

“Vanny…” Mae sobbed. “Mom found out. She’s really angry.”

She froze. She knew Mae’s mom well—strict, demanding, a perfectionist.

“What should I do now? Mama wants to take me away,” Mae cried.

“Huh? Where?”

“She’s really mad, Vanny. She said I have to stay with Grandma for now.”

“At the island?” Vanessa asked in shock.

“Yes… at Isla Berde,” Mae cried harder.

That afternoon, the sky was dark and the wind was cold. It was only four o’clock, but it already looked like evening. Vanessa hugged her arms, wishing she had brought a jacket.

The wedding reception wasn’t finished yet, but she had gone home early. Nanang Delia had called, saying Gian would be coming home sooner than expected. He told her he’d be gone for five days, but here he was, already returning.

She didn’t bother to ask where he had been or why he was coming back early. What was the point? They’d been married for almost two months, but he still hadn’t accepted her.

At least Nanang Delia was living with them now—she finally had an ally in the house.

“Nanang Delia?” she called.

“Oh, good thing you came home quickly, Ma’am,” the old woman said warmly, taking her bag. “Sir was asking for you earlier. I didn’t know what to say.”

Delia was her only ally, the only one she could trust. Even Gian trusted the woman.

“What did you tell him?” she asked nervously.

“I said you were resting. I didn’t want to get you in trouble.”

She smiled in relief, dimples showing. “Thank you so much, Nanang.”

The woman held her hand. “I still believe one day you and Sir will work things out.”

“I hope so too, Nanang. But if he doesn’t stop what he’s doing—”

“I don’t believe your husband has men,” the old woman cut her off.

“And what do you call the men he keeps bringing home then? Friends?”

“Well, maybe.” Delia chuckled and went back to the table where she was making hotcakes. “Let’s not talk about that, Ma’am. It just makes me older.”

“Just call me Vanessa, Nanang. I’m not your boss here.”

“You’re Sir’s wife, so—”

“I don’t even have a husband, Nanang Delia!”

The words froze her heart. She turned, and there he was—Gian.

Just hearing his voice made her whole-body tremble, like a thief caught red-handed. She didn’t know if it was fear or something else that made her pulse race.

Footsteps—loud and heavy. Even the sound of his steps filled her with dread. Gian was behind her now. She felt his presence, and from the tense look on Nanang Delia’s face, she knew he was angry.

“And you, woman, where have you been? Look at what you’re wearing—you look like a slut. You actually went to your cousin’s wedding dressed like that?” he shouted.

She kept quiet. She waited for the slap or the hair-pulling. Delia looked scared too.

“Answer me! Damn it!”

“Sir—”

“I wasn’t talking to you, Nanang Delia!” Gian snapped.

She turned to face him. She had reached her limit. “First of all, I’m not a slut! Second, my cousin Sharon is not shameless. We both know who the shameless one here, Gian—”

“You bitch! You’re talking back—”

“No. I’m correcting what you said earlier.”

She looked him in the eyes. He was wearing black shorts and a jacket, carrying a bag. And behind him was yet another young man—probably her age.

Another guy, Gian? Really?

“So you brought someone again. Enjoy, Sir Gian,” she said coldly. She went up to the man and took his bag. “Let me carry this for you, Sir.”

So that’s why he denies I’m his wife—because he keeps bringing men home. Ugh!

The guy looked embarrassed. “Oh no, it’s fine, Ma’am. I can carry it. It’s heavy.”

What a waste—you’re handsome, but you went for a gay guy? she thought bitterly.

“Suit yourself. Nothing to be ashamed of with me,” She said. Then, leaning closer, she whispered, “You know Gian? He finishes quick, and—well, let’s just say you won’t enjoy much.” The man frowned, and she laughed, winking at him. “Well, hope you enjoy.”

Why did I even say that? She thought. But what else could she do? Gian had just called her a slut and now brought another man into their house, right in front of her. Ever heard of motels, Gian?

Dios mio, she thought, it’s hard when your husband is gay—because your rivals aren’t women, but men. I don’t even know if that’s an advantage or not.

She shook her head and grabbed a hotcake from the table. What a damn life.