I Don't Want Your Help

Richard’s eyes went wide when he saw me. He tried to get on his feet, but Natasha was still well balanced on his lap. 

“Oh, Isabella,” she said as she slowly got on her feet, adjusting her shirt and taking her sweet time with it. “Richard didn’t tell me you were coming in today.”

“What are you doing with my husband?” I asked, my voice high as I couldn't control my feelings. 

“What does–”

“Working,” Richard said quickly, and I turned my head to him slowly. “We were working.”

“You were working?” I repeated. “You were working, and she was on her lap? Her shirt undone?”

“I–We–”

“And since when did she work in your office?”

“Since I got back,” she answered, cutting him off before he could even speak. “Richard was going to tell you, but I told him to hold on.” Richard nodded too quickly for that to be true. “It’s no big deal, Isabella. You’re overreacting.”

I stared at her with my eyes wide before I scoffed, the sound harsh and bitter. “It’s no big deal? I’m overreacting? How dare–”

My voice died in my throat as something in the trash can caught my eye. I turned towards it, the tears already threatening, a huge lump in my throat. I bent down to pick it up, my hand shaking. I cleaned the dirt from it, the first tear dropping as I turned back to Richard, and he stared back at me with a guilty look on his face. 

“Our wedding photo?” I whispered, my voice shaking. 

He took a step forward. “Isabella, listen–”

The second tear fell. “Our wedding photo in the trash? Is this your way of telling me?”

He took another step closer, his hand reaching out, but before he could even say another word, Natasha jumped in front of him, her lips pressed together, same as her hands. 

A pathetic act. 

“Oh, Isabella! I’m so sorry! It’s my fault. Richard asked me to clean his office, and I just thought that was meant to be in the trash.”

The pain that went through my heart at that moment was intense, but I pushed it aside. “Move,” I said to her, but it seemed she heard the opposite, because she came closer and grabbed the picture frame from me. 

“I’ll clean it right now. I’m sorry.”

“Let go,” I said, still holding onto the frame, but she wasn’t even listening. 

“I’ll go clean it right now.”

She kept trying to take it from me, but I didn't want her to, so I struggled to hold on to it. All of a sudden, she cried out, crashing down to the floor. 

“Isabella!” she cried out, holding her hand to her chest, and I saw red staining her blouse. 

I looked down at the frame and saw red on the edge. 

“Natasha!” Richard yelled as he rushed to her side, pushing me aside.

I gasped as I staggered back, almost falling, but I caught my footing on time. 

“Natasha, are you okay?” Richard asked with a voice so tender I wondered if this was the same man I had married. 

“I’m okay,” she said, sniffling. “It’s just a little cut.” She looked at me with her eyes hard. “You didn’t have to hurt me if you didn’t want me to clean the picture. I just wanted to help. You could have just told me you didn’t want my help.”

I couldn’t even say anything and just stared at her with my mouth open. Then all of a sudden, Richard was on my face, towering over me, staring at me with his eyes red with rage. Rage, not even anger. 

“What is even wrong with you?!” he yelled, spittle flying from his mouth and landing on my face. 

I flinched, recoiling from him and staring at my husband like I was looking at a stranger. 

“Richard, I–”

He pointed a finger at my face, so close to my eyes. “No, shut up. You shut up and listen to me. She was only just trying to help. You could have told her you didn’t want any help. Simple!”

“I told–”

“Sandra!” His assistant came out of nowhere, her head low. “Escort my wife back to her car.”

“Yes, sir.” She turned to me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Richard, his face blurry from my tears. “Ma’am, please.”

I turned to Natasha to see that she was staring at me with a smirk on her lips. 

I turned away from both of them, leaving the office with my tears flowing and my heart heavy. 

***

Things only became worse after that day, but I still didn’t give up; I didn't stop reaching out. I called, sent good morning and good night texts, and sent food to his office, but not once did I get a response, not even a single word. 

I became miserable. I cried myself to sleep, woke up with my eyes swollen, and I kept thinking, “If only I could give him a child. If only. If only.”

I considered going home just to take a break, but I remembered it was even worse there. I couldn’t go home to a father who couldn’t stand the sight of me. He was against my marriage to Richard. He kept saying I couldn't marry someone I was richer than, that I needed to marry someone wealthier, someone who could top our rank and wealth. But I loved Richard, so I turned my back on my family. Love. I love Richard. 

And now I had a heart filled with love with no place to pour it into, and a father who hated me. 

“Where did it all go wrong?” I asked myself as I lay awake that night with tears in my eyes. “Where?”

***

It was our third-year wedding, and I decided I wasn't just going to sit around all day in misery. I’ve already accepted that he wasn’t going to call or send a gift, so I got on my feet that day, cleaned my eyes, and told myself that I was going to go to him. 

He had a building at the heart of the city, a place that he had all of himself. Since he hasn’t been coming home, I figured that is where he would be. 

I didn’t stay at home that day. I went to the spa, to the salon, trying to fix myself, trying to look like I haven't been miserable these past weeks. By the time I was done, it was already the end of the day.

I stopped at the mall on the way back home and got a short, tight red dress, knowing that was how he liked his women to dress. 

I spent an extra hour dolling myself up at home, and when I was done, I stared at the mirror, nodding to myself. “I’m ready.”

So I left looking beautiful, my stomach turning with nerves, my heart filled with hope, ready to see my husband, unaware that my whole world was about to come crashing down.