I AGREED TO MY HUSBAND'S OPEN MARRIAGE RULES

Stacy’s POV

The bedsheets beneath me were damp with sweat, but not the kind that came from passion. My body ached in all the wrong ways as Matt moved above me, his eyes closed, lost in his own world. I bit down on my lip, trying not to wince.

"Matt, can you... slow down?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He didn't respond. He never did during these moments. His hands gripped my hips tighter, and I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This wasn't love.

I turned my head to the side, staring at the wall, waiting for it to be over. The clock on the nightstand showed 10:47 PM. Three minutes had passed since we started. It felt like an eternity.

My mind drifted to three years ago, to our wedding day. I remembered how nervous I was, how I'd actually smiled when our parents announced the arrangement. I'd liked Matt since college. He was handsome, successful, and I thought... I thought maybe we could make it work. Maybe he'd learn to love me too.

How stupid I'd been.

"Matt, please—" I tried again, my voice cracking.

"Almost done," he grunted, not even looking at me.

I closed my eyes and counted the seconds. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen...

Finally, he finished with a low groan and immediately pulled away. The sudden absence of his weight should have been a relief, but instead, I felt empty. Used.

Matt climbed off the bed and reached for his clothes scattered on the floor. He pulled on his boxer shorts first, then his shirt, buttoning it up with quick, efficient movements. Not once did he glance back at me.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my body trembling slightly. Pain radiated through my lower abdomen. I wanted to cry, but I'd learned to hold it in.

"I'm going to watch the game," Matt said, his voice flat and distant. "Johnson's coming over."

"Okay," I managed to say, though it came out more like a whimper.

He left without another word, closing the door behind him. The moment I heard his footsteps fade down the hallway, I let out a shaky breath.

Get up, Stacy. Get up and clean yourself.

My arms felt like lead as I pushed myself up. Every movement sent a sharp ache through my body. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, gathering the strength to stand.

The walk to the bathroom felt impossibly long. When I finally made it, I turned on the shower, making the water as hot as I could bear. I stepped under the stream and let it wash over me.

I'd tried so hard. God, I'd tried everything. I cooked his favorite meals. I kept the house spotless. I never complained when he came home late or when he ignored me at dinner parties. I thought if I was patient enough, if I loved him enough, he'd eventually see me. Really see me.

But three years had passed, and nothing had changed.

The bathroom door suddenly swung open, and I jumped, grabbing the shower curtain to cover myself.

"Did you take your pill yet?" Matt asked, leaning against the doorframe.

My heart sank. "I... I just got in the shower."

"Well, don't forget," he said sharply. "The pack's in the cabinet."

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

He started to leave but paused. "Actually, take it now. I don't want any accidents."

"Matt, can we talk about this?" I asked softly, turning off the water. "The pills... they're making me sick."

"What do you mean, sick?" His tone was annoyed, like I was wasting his time.

I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped out of the shower. "I've been getting headaches. And my stomach hurts all the time. The doctor said—"

"The doctor said it's safe," Matt interrupted. "Millions of women take birth control, Stacy."

"I know, but I've been taking it for three years straight without a break. My body needs—"

"Your body needs to not get pregnant," he said coldly. "That's what it needs."

I felt my chest tighten. "We're married. Would it really be so terrible if—"

"Yes," he snapped. "It would be terrible. I'm not ready for kids. I told you that from the beginning."

"But you never said forever," I whispered, my voice breaking. "You never said you'd never want them."

Matt's jaw clenched. "This isn't a negotiation, Stacy. Take the pill."

Tears burned my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not in front of him. "It's hurting me, Matt. The constant hormones, they're damaging my—"

"Damaging?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You're being dramatic. You know who never complained about this stuff? Sarah."

My breath caught in my throat. Sarah. His ex-girlfriend from college. The one he'd actually chosen to be with, before their relationship ended.

"Sarah understood responsibility," Matt continued, his words like knives. "She was mature about these things. Never whined or made excuses."

"I'm not making excuses," I said, my voice small. "I'm in pain."

"Then switch brands or something. But you're taking them, Stacy. End of discussion."

He walked to the cabinet, pulled out the pill pack, and thrust it into my hands. "Now."

I stared down at the small pink pills, my hands shaking. "Matt, please—"

"Now, Stacy!" His voice rose, making me flinch.

My fingers trembled as I popped one pill out of the pack. I put it in my mouth, walked to the sink, and swallowed it with a handful of water. The pill felt like a stone going down my throat.

"Good," Matt said, his tone immediately softening, as if he hadn't just yelled at me. "I'll be downstairs."

He left, and I heard him calling out to Johnson, who must have just arrived. Their laughter echoed up through the house, easy and carefree.

I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red, my face pale. I barely recognized the woman staring back at me.

What happened to you, Stacy? When did you become this person?

I'd given up so much. My dignity. My voice. My happiness. All for a man who couldn't even look at me during sex. All for someone who compared me to his ex and found me lacking.

Three years of this. Three years of rejection, of feeling invisible, of pretending everything was fine when it was all falling apart.

I gripped the edge of the sink, my knuckles turning white.

How much more can I take? Will he ever change for the love he says?