Married At My Ex Husband's Funeral

CHAPTER ONE

“You stupid bitch!!”

TWACK!!!

The punch landed on my right jaw and I immediately tasted the familiar taste or copper and iron fill my mouth and throat.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, talking back at me like that? Huh? Looking me in the fucking eye?! You're growing wings, huh? You're growing wings?"

The next slap literally blinded me. Faint dots sorrounded my vision as my eyes closed from the pain.

My husband hitting me when he was angry did not surprise me anymore. At this stage in my marriage, I already expected it.

When we first got married, I used to get caught off guard by his violence, but now, I heard it coming in the silence of his footsteps as he rushed towards me.

I heard it in the shift of the air when he took off his tie. In the way he sighed like my existence weighed down his lungs. Even the fucking veins that popped around his neck gave it away.

“Look at you,” he barked.

“Acting like I’m the monster. Like I am beating you for nothing...Maybe if you weren’t such a fucking disappointment, I wouldn’t get this angry when I look at your fucking face.”

I blinked my eyes hard to keep the tears that were already gathering in my eyes from falling.

Not tonight. Not anymore, it wasn’t like my tears had ever stopped David from hitting me. It only made him more angry.

Tears used to make him angrier.

So I learnt my lessons. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my tears.

“Look at the way you’re dressed. Look at your hair, your face… look at you! Are you trying to ruin my reputation? Looking like a dirty little piglet!…You just had one job,” he snapped, pacing behind me like a restless wolf. “One. Make dinner on time and stay out of my sight. Is that so fucking hard?!!!”

His knuckles slammed into my cheekbone, snapping my head sideways, and snapping me out of my thoughts effectively. White stars exploded behind my eyes as the pain almost blinded me.

That would definitely leave a mark. This was why I spent all of the little allowance he gave me on makeup. I held onto the kitchen counter to steady myself, refusing to fall. Because if I fell…he would do much more than punch me.

“Useless,” David spat. “I curse the day I married trash like you. i still do not understand what came over me. I should’ve left you where I found you.”

My hands trembled, but I forced myself to breathe slowly and calmly. Not because I was calm…God, I fucking wasn’t. But because if I didn’t regulate my breathing, he would punish me for that too.

“What’s your excuse this time, since you’re always so full of damn excuses and no results,”

“It… it was the traffic,” I whispered, hating the way my voice shook. “I tried…”

TWACK!!

He landed another punch, this time to my shoulder. The very force of the punch knocked the breath straight out of my lungs.

“You tried,” he mocked in a high‑pitched, childish imitation of my voice. “I didn’t marry you to try. You live in my house, you wear the clothes I bought you, you breathe because I didn’t kick you out…”

He grabbed my chin, squeezing my mouth until my teeth grinded together.

“…so you do as I say. You understand me?”

I nodded. Because I had learned the hard way that silence was treated as stubbornness in his eyes.

His grip loosened and he wiped his hands on his expensive suit like touching my skin was disgusting him.

God, he hated me. He fucking hated me. I didn’t need a soothsayer to tell me that. he had never hidden it. He always showed me how he felt about me loudly…violently… purposefully.

I couldn’t even run away. Who would I turn to? No one will believe me. He hadn’t always been like this… in fact, no one except for me knew this side of him.

To the world, he was the perfect man.

the clean businessman, the self‑made millionaire, the charming husband with a beautiful smile that could change the colour of the fucking sky.

Behind closed doors, he was something else entirely.

My personal nightmare. My one big mistake.

I shook when he finally cleared his throat and stormed out of the kitchen, muttering to himself about “stupid women” and “wasted potential.” I stayed frozen for a long moment before I exhaled shakily and touched the side of my face. It was already swelling.

Bruises bloomed fast on my skin. Maybe because they had been planted there so many times.

My hands shook as I picked up the pot from the stove. Dinner was ruined now, it had definitely gone cold and he would still find something wrong with the taste of the food, and the worst part?

I would have to apologize for it.

Again.

I carried the plate to the dining room like I was stepping onto a fucking war zone with bombs on the ground. He was seated already, scrolling his phone with his jaw clenched.

“Set it down,” he said without looking at me.

I did.

He took one bite. Just one, and I watched his lips curl. “Disgusting.”

I lowered my gaze, fear already feeling me as I prepared my body for another round of beating. “I’ll make something else.”

“No. You’ve wasted enough time. Keep your food to yourself.”

He stood, grabbed the plate, and dumped everything into the trash bin.

“That’s where your effort belongs, anyways.”

My throat burned. My eyes stung.

But crying wasn’t an option.

“ Use those efforts for something more useful, will you? Tomorrow,” he said, straightening his cuffs, “you’re coming with me to my business dinner.”

I froze. “You said… I thought you said I wasn’t allowed to join you to those parties anymore.”

“That was before.” His eyes cut to me, sharp like a damn blade. “Tonight proved you need to be reminded how to behave in public. And I need a wife who looks grateful to be here.”

“I—”

“Are you trying to argue with me, Celene?”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a deadly whisper.

“You belong to me. And you will act like it.”

My stomach dropped.

Those dinners were where he displayed me like a shiny accessory.

Where I sat silently beside him, smiling and pretending we were perfect.

Where I lied to everyone about what a great husband he was. I always took the blame or explained why we had no kids till now even though he beat them out of me every single time… I lied and lied...especially to myself.

He grabbed my jaw again, tilting my face toward the light.

“Put ice on that. I won’t have you showing up looking like the charity case you are.”

He left the room. The slam of the bedroom door echoed through the house. I sank into a chair, my body trembling with quiet, exhausted terror.

I was twenty‑four, but I felt like a ninety year old widow and yet every time I thought of leaving, I remembered his threats.

“You won’t last a day out there. No one wants you. No one will believe you. And if you try to run... I’ll find you, Celene. I'll find you and I'll kill you”

I was not a fool... Of course I believed him. He had power and influence. Of course he could make my life a living hell.

I placed the ice pack on my cheek. The cold burned my skin, but it was nothing compared to the burn in my fucking chest.

Tomorrow, I would be paraded around like some obedient trophy again. Tomorrow, I would follow him into another room full of rich men with polished shoes and polished lies. Tomorrow, I would sit beside him and pretend I wasn’t dying slowly.

I closed my eyes and took a haunting, heavy breath.

"I wish I could just die..."