Delusional Jane

"And I now pronounce you, man and wife," echoed the priest's voice in my head as I gazed at the shattered pieces of the glassware my husband had used to frame our wedding picture.

It was the same glassware he picked up and shattered, as if it were nothing. One would think something so valuable should be treasured. But not in my case. I had considered myself a fortune, a prize, but it was all a delusional illusion.

Was all this for a man who would never love me? I couldn't help but wonder.

"Now that we are married, we can finally divide our shares and part ways as if we never met," he had said those exact words to me on our wedding night. I was dumbstruck, but I held onto a glimmer of hope.

Winning his love was no easy task. He had already made up his mind that he would never fall in love or get married. Yet, there I was, entangled in my own web of delusions, trying to make him love me.

"Men can only change when they want to change," my sister's warning echoed in my mind as if it were yesterday.

"But I'll make him see that I'm worthy of his change," I had replied to my sister's caution.

"How could I have let myself down like this?" I asked myself, snapping back to reality. The reality that I had been deceiving myself all these years, yet a glimmer of hope still lingered in my heart.

I hoped that it would all go away, that it would come to an end. Yes, another round of my delusional thoughts.

"Rick, no, please," I pleaded with my husband on my knees as he practically dragged me towards the exit of the house.

"I'm sorry, I won't bring it up again," I pleaded through tears. You may be wondering what it was that I promised not to mention again, which made my husband destroy a frame worth a fortune.

He had packed his small travel bag, preparing to stay away for days. Again. It had become his habit to leave whenever we had a minor argument.

He was always searching for reasons to escape from me, no matter how trivial. I was always careful not to say anything that would anger him, but that afternoon was a different situation altogether.

...................

"I just want a baby!" I yelled after Rick dismissed me when I mentioned having a child.

"How many times do I have to tell you..."

"You've told me plenty of things, countless times, but what you haven't told me is that you don't want me to have a child!"

"You've called me barren, you've acted frustrated every time I get my period, but you've never supported me in finding a solution to our childlessness."

"I'm simply asking you to come with me to the doctor!" I said, the pain evident in my voice. I was surprised at the courage I had mustered to say all that.

I had always been submissive to my husband, never raising my voice in an effort to please him and make him love me. I believed that his ideal woman was one who submitted, yet he grew angry at my mere existence.

"I will do no such thing! I am a man, the man of this house, and whatever I say goes," he snapped, stomping his feet on the ground.

"It's just a harmless test!" I argued, and in his rage, he grabbed the wedding frame and hurled it to the ground, shattering it into pieces.

"Enough!" he thundered.

"When we entered into this marriage, didn't you understand that it was merely a contract? That you have no right to propose anything or even speak to me until our contract is over?" He approached me,

and with each step he took, I involuntarily moved two inches back. I was terrified of that man.

"I understood, but..." I tried to complete my sentence, then I saw a flower vase hurtling towards me, and I quickly ducked.

Did he just throw a vase at me, intending to hit me? Wasn't that supposed to be the last straw? I should have drawn the line, but I didn't.

Instead, I fell to the floor, collecting the broken pieces of the glass frame, tears streaming down my face, clinging to false hopes. Meanwhile, he rushed into his bedroom, packing his clothes to spend the weekend with one of his mistresses.

I frantically looked around, desperately searching for my phone, but it was nowhere to be found. I dashed into our bedroom, or what was supposed to be our matrimonial bedroom. However, it had transformed into a sanctuary for his special mistresses. "Special" mistresses, as he had thousands, but only those closest to his heart were allowed access to our sacred space.

"You shouldn't be upset. After all, it's not a real marriage," I recalled him saying those exact words to me. It was the day I mustered the courage to voice my concerns to my husband.

"No, Rick, you have no right!" I snapped at him when he asked me to move my belongings from our matrimonial bedroom to the guest room downstairs. The thought of being separated from him was unbearable. How could I ever get closer to my goal of making him love me if I was pushed away? I pondered, although deep down, I knew the answer.

"Jane, don't make me regret the contract that made you my wife. I can't breathe when you're around. I need my space!" I remembered his words, delivered with an unsettling calmness. It was a cruel thing to say, yet he effortlessly and calmly uttered those hurtful phrases.

Did I protest against leaving the bedroom? Of course, I did. However, the resounding slap he delivered, accompanied by the terrifying warnings never to question him again, were enough to make me comply.

"Get yourself and your filthy belongings out of my room," his voice echoed in my mind as if it were yesterday. Yet, I continued to deceive myself with the twisted illusion that these were just his outbursts of anger—an illusion, as my sister would put it.

My entire family believed I had lost my mind. "Sweetheart, do you need a doctor? I can call one right away," my mother's voice echoed in my head, reminding me of the concern in her eyes as she held my head, searching for any signs of injury.

If I didn't know any better, I would have thought she was having a heart attack the moment she discovered that my marriage to Rick was merely a contract.

"Ayyiii! Jane! What have you done?!" Her cries reverberated in my mind, and hot tears streamed down my face.

I stared intently at my matrimonial bed, as if my gaze could make it vanish completely. But it remained, a constant reminder of my shattered illusions. Just another one of my delusional thoughts.

"I've always wanted you to marry someone you love, someone who loves you back! Get out of that prison you call a marriage!" My mother's voice echoed in my mind, and I recalled my stubborn and defiant self, refusing to leave even with the visible bruise on my cheekbone caused by Rick's slap, a bruise my mother couldn't ignore.

My phone rang loudly, jolting me back to reality. I followed the sound, and there it was, tucked away in his drawer, dancing to the buzzing vibration. Glancing at the caller ID, I saw that it was Rick. Did he forget that he had confiscated my phone and locked it away?

I watched as the phone continued to ring, torn between answering the call and letting it ring until he remembered what he had done. Guess which thoughts prevailed.

I chose to completely ignore the call and waited until he was finished. Afterward, I retrieved my phone from the drawer and dialed my sister's number. She was my best friend and confidante, the one who had been there to comfort me and tirelessly tried to rescue me from this marriage. She was my sole remaining friend, as I had lost touch with everyone else since I couldn't attend social gatherings anymore.

Why, you may wonder? It was because of the frequent bruises I carried, and on the occasions I was bruise-free, Rick wouldn't allow me to go out. He claimed he didn't like the way other men looked at me and preferred that I stayed home.

Oddly enough, that made me feel a bit flattered. Knowing that he found me attractive brought some relief, or perhaps it was just my delusions taking hold again? I questioned myself inwardly.

"Hey, Sheba," I greeted with a shaky voice once the call connected.

"Jane, I'm married too, you know. You can't keep expecting me to abandon my husband to tend to your marriage. I've told you countless times to leave that man!" She yelled over the phone after I recounted the afternoon's events and how Rick had packed his bags once again. She was clearly exasperated with me and my stubbornness, but I remained determined to find love where there was none.