I Crave For My Ex-Wife's Love

I entered our shared bedroom, couldn't help but feel emptiness. I had just finished preparing breakfast for Alexander's family, a task that had become daily routine for me. But despite my efforts, I couldn't shake off feeling that I didn't belong here. They never considered me part of their family, and house felt more like prison than home.

My mind wandered back to my childhood, when my grandfather had raised me with love and care. I had been orphan, but he had been my rock, my confidant. And now, he was gone. I still missed him dearly.

Promise he had made to Alexander's grandfather haunted me still. Promise that had led me to this place, to this marriage, to this life. I had tried to make best of it, I really had. I had fallen in love with Alexander day I married him, but it seemed he didn't feel same way.

Three years had passed since our wedding day, and yet, there was no marital relationship between us. No love, no affection, no nothing. He was always cold towards me, never appreciating my efforts, never standing up for me when his family insulted me. And they did, often. His mother, his aunt, his cousin Lylah - they all made sure I knew I wasn't welcome here.

I felt my love for Alexander fading away, replaced by deep-seated desire to escape. To leave this place, to leave them, and start anew. I was tired of being humiliated, tired of being ignored, tired of being alone.

I looked at Alexander, sleeping peacefully beside me. He had come home late last night, reeking of alcohol. Jimin and I had barely managed to get him to bed. I wanted to let him sleep, but I knew he had important meeting today. So I gently shook him, trying to rouse him from his slumber.

"Alexander...Alexander..." I whispered, my voice barely audible. But he just rolled over, unmoving. I sighed, feeling pang of frustration. Why couldn't he see me? Why couldn't he love me? I was Roselyn, his wife, his partner. But to him, I was just mere inconvenience.

I stood before him; his gaze met mine, and I felt a chill run down my spine. Coldness in his eyes was a familiar sight, one that I had grown accustomed to over the years. I stepped back, my heart sinking, and whispered, "You're late for your meeting."

He groggily looked at the time and, without uttering a word, got up and strode towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I felt a pang of sadness, knowing that my presence was nothing more than an inconvenience to him.

I descended the stairs, my heart heavy with the knowledge that I would have to face the rest of the family. They were already seated at the breakfast table, their eyes fixed on me with a mixture of disdain and annoyance.

Lylah, Alexander's cousin, was the first to speak, her voice dripping with venom. "Where were you till now? Are you the head lady of this house, for whom we have to wait? How long have I been waiting?"

Catherine, Alexander's mother, chimed in, "Calm down, my daughter. Roselyn, serve the breakfast. We're hungry."

I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, Ma'am."

I began to serve the breakfast and caught sight of Alexander descending the stairs, looking every bit the handsome and put-together man that he was. My heart skipped a beat when our eyes met, and for a moment, I forgot about the coldness that had grown between us.

But the moment was short-lived, with Aunt Malicia's shrill voice cutting through the air. "Hey, where is your attention? You spilled coffee all over the table. You know Alexander doesn't like a messy table."

I felt my face flush with embarrassment and apologized, "Sorry, Aunt Malicia. I'll clean it up."

I bent down to clean the mess, stealing glances at Alexander, who was now seated at the head of the table, his eyes fixed on some distant point, his expression unreadable. I felt a pang of sadness, knowing that I would never be able to reach him or touch his heart.

Aunt Malicia's voice cut through the air, her words dripping with venom. "No need; just go away from here. I don't want to see this miserable face of yours." I felt a sting from her words, but it wasn't just the insult that hurt. It was the fact that my husband, Alexander, sat silently, his expression unreadable, his eyes fixed on some distant point. He didn't flinch, didn't react, and didn't defend me. It was as if I was invisible, insignificant.

I endured the humiliation, my heart heavy with sorrow. I served food to my husband, my hands shaking slightly as I placed the plate in front of him. He didn't even acknowledge me, his eyes never leaving the distant point he seemed so fixated on.

Lylah, Alexander's cousin, spoke up next, her voice shrill and demanding. "Hey, where is my tea? Bring it quickly!" I felt a surge of resentment, but I pushed it down, my eyes cast downward. I knew better than to defy them.

I hurried to the kitchen, my feet moving swiftly as I tried to escape the toxic atmosphere. But even in the kitchen, I couldn't escape the pitying glances of the servants. They knew my situation and knew how I was treated like a doormat by Alexander's family. I felt a pang of shame, knowing that even they felt sorry for me.

I approached Lylah with the steaming cup of tea; I couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation. She was known for her cruel behavior, and I had already endured so much humiliation at her hands. But I had no idea that she had something even more sinister in store for me.

Just as I was about to hand her the cup, she deliberately moved her leg towards me, causing me to lose my balance. I bent forward, desperately trying to regain my footing, but it was too late. The cup fell from my hand, and the scalding hot tea splashed everywhere, including onto my own hand.

But to my horror, Lylah started screaming, clutching her hand as if she had been severely burned. "Oh my God, my hand!" she wailed, her voice echoing through the room.

Aunt Malicia rushed to her side, her face twisted in fake concern. "Oh no, look what this wretched girl has done! She's burned my daughter's hand!"

I stood there, my own hand throbbing in pain, and watched in disbelief as the scene unfolded before me. Alexander's mother joined in, her voice shrill with accusation. "Roselyn, what's all this? We know you're jealous of Lylah, but that doesn't mean you'll hurt her in front of us. Apologize!"

I felt a surge of indignation. "Apologize? But I haven't done anything! She deliberately moved her foot towards me so that I would fall."

Aunt Malicia's face turned beet red with rage, her eyes bulging with venom. "Look at this wretched, insolent creature! She's a walking disaster, a clumsy oaf who can't even serve tea without causing chaos! And then she has the audacity to blame my innocent daughter? You're a despicable, good-for-nothing girl, Roselyn! A complete and utter failure as a wife and a member of this family!"

Her words cut deep, each one a razor-sharp slash to my already battered soul. I felt my eyes sting with tears, but I refused to let them fall. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

Alexander's mother joined in, her voice dripping with malice. "Yes, Roselyn, you're a constant embarrassment to us. Your carelessness and stupidity know no bounds. You're a burden to this family, a weight that we're forced to carry."

I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces; the pain and humiliation were almost too much to bear. But still, I stood tall, my eyes locked on Aunt Malicia's twisted face. I wouldn't back down; I wouldn't apologize for something that wasn't my fault. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of breaking me completely.

"I have not committed any mistake for which I should apologize to this girl,"

The words hung in the air like a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down by the woman who was supposed to be my mother-in-law. "How dare you?" she spat, her voice venomous.

My husband, Alexander, stood up, his eyes blazing with anger. "Apologize to Lylah," he growled, his voice low and menacing.

I felt a surge of fear, but I stood my ground. "It's not my fault, so I won't apologize," I said, my voice shaking but resolute.

Alexander took a step closer to me, his face twisted in rage. "Apologize," he repeated, his voice rising.

I shook my head, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "No," I whispered.

And then, in a flash of movement, his hand connected with my cheek. The slap sent shockwaves through my entire body, leaving a stinging sensation that seemed to sear my skin.

I felt a wave of humiliation wash over me, followed by a deep sadness. My husband, the man I loved, had hit me. In front of his family.

Tears streamed down my face as I realized the truth. I was alone. I was trapped in a living nightmare, with no escape from the cruelty that surrounded me. My husband didn't believe me, didn't trust me. He had chosen his family over me, and I was left to face the consequences.

The room seemed to spin around me, and I felt myself falling, falling into a deep abyss of despair. I was lost, alone, and utterly broken.

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