Chapter 3 Marriage Is a Coffin, and Each Child a Nail

Christine's P.O.V.

Our marriage wasn't just a failure—it had been arranged by our parents long before I even knew I would marry Elliot. I had heard of him for years, and, embarrassingly, I had admired him. Not just because he looked like something out of an action movie with his towering height, broad shoulders, and the perfect balance of sharp and refined features, but because I had been fascinated by the idea of marrying a man as intelligent as him, someone capable of running such a vast empire.

I had feared I wouldn't be enough for him.

And I was right. At least, not for him. But if there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that I had never stopped trying—I had always shown him my heart and my determination.

My first attempt to leave him, the first real wound to my heart, came when I discovered there was already another woman in his heart. He kept photos and mementos—things he would take out whenever he felt nostalgic. Yvette. The only woman who could turn that cold, emotionless man into someone human, even if she was no longer around.

I had hated her from the moment I saw her picture in his wallet, knowing then that no amount of dignity could withstand a situation like that. Unfortunately, my parents refused to let me walk away. They insisted I endure it because divorcing Elliot didn't just mean separating from him—it meant losing the advantages our families had secured. They were willing to sacrifice my happiness for the greater good.

I had hoped things would change with time. So, I had torn up the divorce papers, kept quiet, and endured it for as long as I could. I had thought that starting a family would fix everything. But… even in intimacy, nothing changed. Elliot never kissed me. He never caressed me. He simply did what he had to do and left the bed as quickly as possible. The only reason he even touched me was to satisfy his father's wish for grandchildren.

His detachment in bed was so unbearable that I visited a gynecologist to improve my fertility. I couldn't stand feeling like nothing more than a prostitute to my own husband—just lying there while he finished and left without a single word or look. No tenderness. No warmth.

Then, I changed my mind. I realized the last thing I wanted was to have a child with a man who clearly despised me. That was my second attempt to leave him. I prepared the divorce papers again, determined to make it happen this time. I chased after him, insisting this would be final.

But then… the nausea started. The dizziness. The cravings.

I was pregnant.

Stupid, naive thoughts had raced through my head. He would change when he meets his child. A baby would bring us closer, maybe even fix what was broken.

The only one thrilled about the pregnancy was his father. He showered me with gifts for the babies, his excitement doubling when he learned I was carrying three. But Elliot? He wasn't happy. If anything, he looked trapped. Three babies. Three chains tying him to me instead of just one.

I went through my pregnancy alone with only my mother's support. Elliot never touched my belly. Never accompanied me to a single doctor's appointment. He was always too busy when it came to me or our children. Even when I gave birth, I faced it alone. My only consolation was that he at least sent his assistant to pick me up when I was discharged from the hospital.

I will never forget the first thing he said when he saw them.

"They say marriage is like a coffin, and each child is a nail. Christine, you've put three in at once."

Did I need any more proof that he would never be the man I had hoped for? That he would never be the father my children deserved?

"This is my third attempt," I whispered, more to myself than to him. "And my last."

"Are you finally giving up?" he asked, exhaling in exhaustion. He was tired of dealing with me.

"No." I lifted my gaze, locking eyes with his. "On the contrary, this time, I won't stop. This time, I'll print as many copies as necessary. I'll fill your office, your car, and every space you enter with divorce papers. I won't back down.

"Every time I gave up before, I believed things would change. That you would be different. But that never happened."

"What happened to 'In time, you'll see that you can love me'?" he mocked. "Where's your perseverance now?"

"Under your shoe," I said coldly, my gaze never wavering. His eyes narrowed slightly before he took a deep breath.

"Let me go, Elliot. You don't love me. You never have. So why keep me here if you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you… but I don't love you either," he replied, raising an eyebrow before shaking his head. "You're still the same foolish girl I was forced to marry. Do you think it's easy having a complete stranger in my house and my bed? What did you expect? That I'd pretend to like you? That I'd fake love while secretly wanting to vomit? To me, you're nothing but a burden. An obligation. The difference between you and me is that despite how much you repulse me, I won't break the agreement our parents made.

"What more do you want, Christine?!" His voice rose, his frustration spilling over. "You have a massive, beautiful house all to yourself! Every luxury any woman would dream of! Money to spend on salons, spas—whatever you want!"

"I don't want any of that," I whispered, my voice cracking. "All I ever wanted was to marry a man who loved me, no matter how much or how little we had. I just wanted a partner."

My nose burned, and then came the tears. Again.

"Stop asking for something I can't give you," he muttered, exasperated.

I let out a hollow, bitter laugh. "Are you talking about a divorce… or a little bit of love?"

He hesitated, just for a second. Then he turned his back to me, ready to leave me alone once more.

"Both," he said. "You'll never have either."