Lawrence Long Lost Love

The moment it was over, Lawrence rushed into the bathroom. He couldn't wait to scrub off every trace of me.

"Lawrence," I whispered to his back. "It's my birthday today, too."

He froze. His face turned lethal in an instant.

He crossed the room in two strides, his hand snapping around my throat and pinning me to the mattress.

"What?" he sneered, looking down at me like I was dirt beneath his shoes. "Should I light a candle for you? So that you can make a wish?"

He tightened his grip, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper.

"The biggest mistake of your life was being born with that face. Do your job, and don't you dare dream of anything else."

A bitter laugh choked in my throat.

What was I even expecting? I knew the truth.

His heart only had room for one person, my sister, Vivian.

A few minutes later, the housekeeper stepped inside. She handed me a pill and a glass of water, watching like a hawk until I swallowed it whole.

Then she led me to the service bathroom down the hall.

Mrs. Perry had worked for Lawrence’s family for over a decade. In her hand, she held a long, rigid, stiff-bristled brush.

My body recoiled on instinct. I took a quick step back.

She caught my wrist in a vice grip. Impatience flickered in her sharp eyes.

"You know the rules, Miss Hall," she said coldly.

I closed my eyes and stopped fighting.

I let her use the brush, scouring inside me to erase every single drop of Lawrence's release.

My fingers dug into the porcelain rim of the tub.

My face drained of color as the sharp pain tore through me.

My heart that already shattered into a million pieces, ached all over again.

Lawrence had set this rule the very day I married him.

He didn't want my child in his house. And he certainly didn't want me to have a moment of peace.

This was his favorite punishment. A brutal way to grind my dignity into the dust.

Streams of faint blood began to bloom in the water.

Only then did Mrs. Perry stop, switching to a sponge soaked in harsh antiseptic to scrub my skin raw.

It burned like hot acid. It felt like I was being skinned alive.

When my skin was flushed bright red, she finally let me go.

I dragged myself back to the tiny maid's room at the back of the house.

I reached under the bed and pulled out a tiny cupcake I had stashed away earlier. The white icing was already melting.

I stuck a single candle into the center and lit it.

Happy birthday, Clara, I whispered to the quiet room.

I took a bite. The cream had already turned sour, leaving a sharp, rancid taste on my tongue.

Tears streamed down my face.

Today was Vivian’s birthday, but it was mine, too. Yet no one remembered. No one cared.

A sudden knock shattered the silence.

I shoved the cake out of sight just as Lawrence pushed the door open.

He caught the fresh tears on my cheeks. His brow furrowed in deep disgust.

"What are you crying for?" he asked coldly. "Isn't this what you wanted? Are you regretting it already?”