Mate of poison

NYLA

“You're pregnant, Mrs Morgan,” I kept replaying those words over and over in my head on the drive home.

I was twenty one when my life fell apart. All my life, I have been the person who bends first. I’ve carried my family’s expectations on my back, taken their problems like they were mine to fix, and smiled through every bruise life left behind. And when my father’s company sank, when everything we owned felt like it was slipping through our fingers.

I did the thing no one asked out loud but everyone silently looked at me to do. I married Evans Morgan. I thought that could make all my problems go away and I'll live a happy life as his wife.

I became a wife in name only, someone to sit beside him at dinners, smile politely, keep quiet while he walked through halls like it was owed to him. I tried to love him quietly, hoping for warmth, or maybe a spark in this dead marriage, hoping for one moment when he would look at me and mean it, but he never did.

Some nights he touched me, and other nights he kissed me, but on most nights he left before I even realized he had been there. I was stuck in this loveless hell hole called marriage, I kept wishing he could shower me with his love for just a day.

But today was different. Today I held a small, fragile miracle in my hands, a tiny heartbeat of my own. I was pregnant. This pregnancy would change everything. Maybe it would make him see me. It would make him care for me. I will finally be enough for him.

The taxi screeched to a stop in front of the building. I barely waited. I stormed into the mansion we lived in, my stomach tightening as the doors pushed open and I stepped into the familiar penthouse. The apartment smelled of his cologne, and his strong whiskey.

Evans was by the window. We stared at each other for a long moment. I felt the heat in my chest, my very heartbeat hammering so loudly I thought he could hear it the same way I heard it like a drum in my ears.

“We need to talk,” he said flatly.

I swallowed and tried to steady my voice. “Okay… but I have something to tell you first. It’s important.”

He didn’t bat an eye lid, didn’t even glance at me like I said anything.“I want an open marriage.”

I froze immediately. My stomach dropped. I thought I was hearing things. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” he said, finally turning, expression sharp and cold, like the words weren’t meant to hurt but they did anyway. “I want to be able to see other people freely,” My heart sank instantly, I was completely taken aback.

“No, you must be joking.” I said, stepping closer. My hands were trembling so badly. “You can’t just wake up and decide something like that, what is wrong with you? You barely touch me, you barely even look at me, and now you want an open marriage?”

“You don’t get to choose a day I can make decisions, I am your husband,” he said, voice quiet and hard.“And I’ve decided.”

I laughed bitterly. “Decided? Decided what? That I’m not enough? That I’m just… a wife you sleep with when convenient?” My voice rose. “Tell me the truth. Are you seeing someone already?”

He said nothing, he rolled his eyes and took a sip from his whiskey, but he didn’t deny it.

“Evans,” I said, softer this time, my chest tightening. “I need the truth. Don’t lie to me. Are you seeing someone?”

“Yes, and so what?” he finally admitted.

My breath hitched. “Who?” I was so close to losing my mind.

He looked away without giving an answer.

I pressed harder, feeling tears burn in my eyes. “Tell me! Who is it? I deserve to know. You can’t just–”

“I won’t,” he said, his voice calm, terrifyingly calm. “Not now, at least.”

“Then let's get a divorce, so you can live freely!” I yelled back.

“No, you'll always remain my property, mine to keep. And divorce won't look so great in the media right now.” That's all I was to him, just a puppet.

My hands fell to my sides. First it was disbelief, I thought I was dreaming then came Rage, I have had enough of his bullshit. “You think you can just destroy everything and walk away? You think you can ruin my life, my heart, my body, and it won’t matter? You think I’m just going to… accept this?”

“You already accepted the arrangement,” he said, stepping closer, voice low and measured. “That’s why you’re here, why you married me. That’s why you’re still here.”

I shook my head, my chest heaving. “No, Evans, you don’t understand.Okay, I admit that I married you because I had to save my family. But I stayed because I hoped, I believed, I wanted… more and I slowly began to love you. And now you’re telling me it was never going to be enough, and you’ve been seeing someone else the entire time.”

His eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but only a fraction, and it was gone before I could see it fully. “You always knew,” he said finally. “From the beginning, this was never a love marriage. It was a contract. You chose to stay anyway.”

I stumbled back, shaking my head. “And that makes it okay for you to cheat? For you to treat me like… like I’m nothing?”

“You're making things difficult,” He said with irritation.

“An open marriage? When did it get this bad?”

He didn’t answer. He only took a slow sip of his whiskey and stared at the city lights outside the window. The silence stretched, and my chest burned with every passing second. Was this my life now?

“Tell me who,” I demanded, voice breaking, tears slipping down my face, “or I swear–”

“Or what?” he chuckled lightly, the words cutting sharper than any knife could. “You’ll know soon enough. I will make sure to do a proper introduction.” He threw his head back in laughter, mocking me as he laughed even harder.

The anger inside me erupted, “You can’t do this to me, Evans. You can’t just….just destroy my life, please. You are my husband. You are supposed to protect me, not break me into pieces.”

He finally turned fully to face me, his eyes hard. “I never promised you love. I never promised you protection. That was never my role. You were supposed to survive, and you did. That’s enough for me.”

I stared at him, trembling, unable to speak, heck I wasn't even able to breathe.

I couldn't comprehend what I had just heard from the man I had given myself to, the man I had hoped for, had been lying beside me in silence all this time.

And then he said it again, soft, quiet, almost cruel, “I’m seeing someone. Get use to it,”

I let out a strangled sound, my hands flying to my face. Tears streamed down my face.

I wanted to scream. I sat there bawling my eyes out, as he picked up his car keys and stormed out of the house.