On Your Knees, Mr. Ex Husband

“Don’t worry too much, Dahlia! Silas will definitely come and save us!” Joyce Anderson, a fair-looking woman with brown eyes and a model’s body, said to Dahlia, who scoffed internally, knowing those words were a mockery of her sham of a marriage. 

Silas was coming, alright. But it wasn't to save his wife, and they both knew it. 

Dahlia was extremely beautiful with golden blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes. Kind and a very talented artist, but that was never enough for her husband, who only had eyes for Joyce. Even as the two ladies sat in the car, which developed an engine failure in the middle of nowhere, they both knew Silas would only come because of the love of his life. Dahlia hated the situation she was in and hated it even more that she was stuck with Joyce of all people. 

Three years had passed since they got married, but all Silas ever cared about was Joyce. Dahlia tried every trick under the sun to get her husband to notice her. She cooked his favourite meals, wore his favourite dresses, and even went as far as cutting her hair just like he liked it, but not once did he ever show her the tenderness he so freely gave Joyce.

Silas was very attentive to Joyce, and whenever she was coming over, he would personally take charge of her meals, saying, “Joyce is too delicate to eat too much spice, Joyce is too delicate to be in a cold room.” But Dahlia wondered if he knew something as simple as her birthday. 

The painful thoughts of her marriage brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked them back.

Dahlia’s fingers curled in her lap, her nails biting into her palms as if the pain might anchor her somewhere where she wouldn’t feel like her heart was being shredded to pieces. 

A soft knock against the car window snapped Dahlia out of her thoughts as she pulled down the window, only to find Edward, the family driver, smiling softly as he said, 

“Mrs. Scott, Mr. Scott is here.”

Upon hearing that, Dahlia straightened despite herself. Her heart did a foolish little leap before she forced it back into its cage. She had learned this lesson too many times to be too expectant, but that was the thing about love, you couldn't help but get excited whenever you saw the man that you loved. 

Against her wish, Silas had insisted Dahlia accompany Joyce to his private Villa which was in the mountains, so they could soak in the hot springs, but on their way there, the car developed a fault, and since it was in the mountain the reception was difficult to catch. It was after Edward walked over five Kilometers that he was able to make a call, and by the time Silas arrived, it was already evening with soft snow starting to fall.

The headlights flashed as the red Ferrari SF90 stopped a few feet away. Silas, looking as handsome as always and standing at six feet four, with his black hair perfectly styled and not a strand out of place, stepped out wearing a black tailored suit. His gaze swept past the broken car, and he quickly rushed forward, straight to Joyce’s side of the seat, as if he knew where she was without even trying.

Dahlia watched as the man she loved pulled another woman out of the car and asked with concern in his tone, 

“Are you hurt?” His deep voice rumbled in the cold wind. 

Joyce, who was perfectly chatty and fine a minute ago, suddenly began to shake like a leaf.

“I’m okay, Silas. Dahlia needs you more.” She pouted. 

Without another word, Silas shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over Joyce’s shoulders, and nodded at Edward, “Turn on the heater and help her walk to the car.”

“Has Miss Anderson suddenly developed a cold?” Edward asked with a shock in his voice. 

Silas turned to look at Joyce, and before he could ask what Edward meant, Joyce removed the Jacket with tears falling, 

“Give this Jacket to Dahlia, Silas. I’ll be…” She coughed loudly and dramatically before adding, “...I'll be fine.”

“Nonsense. Keep it on; your body is weak, and you can’t survive this cold. Edward, do what I told you and don’t question me again!” Silas spat almost angrily.

“Dahlia, is it okay with you?” Joyce asked weakly, making all eyes turn to find Dahlia standing just a few inches from them. 

Dahlia had seen the entire performance and wondered how Silas could be so blind, or was it love that covered his eyes from seeing what a pretending snake Joyce really was? She had been standing there for some time, and he was so engrossed he didn't even notice. 

“It’s not my jacket. Do whatever you want.” Dahlia responded, but to Silas, it sounded like she was being jealous and hostile towards poor innocent Joyce. 

“Dahlia, surely you’re not jealous over a jacket, are you?” Silas stepped closer, his voice accusing. “You know that ever since Joyce saved my mother from drowning, her body has been weak.”

“And yet that weakness only happens to show up when you’re around.” Dahlia mocked.

“Dahlia, please. I know you’re upset. You can have the Jacket if you want, just please don’t be upset with Silas.” Joyce said, but Dalihia only scoffed, feeling irritated. 

“Let’s just go home. I’m tired, and I just want to sleep.” Dahlia said, ignoring Joyce, and started walking to the car when her heart sank and her steps halted upon seeing what kind of car Silas was driving. 

 “I was already far from home when Edward called me, and it would have taken so much time to go and change the car,” Silas explained as if reading her mind. 

Dahlia felt her heart shred to pieces knowing what was coming even before he said it. 

“Joyce is weak, and the car only has two seats. I’ll quickly take her, but I’ve already called another car to come pick you up. Edward will stay with you in the meantime.” Silas explained, and all Dahlia felt were needles pricking her heart in tiny pokes.

Once again, he picked the other woman over her. She swallowed the lump the size of a fist and nodded, “Okay.”

Silas smiled at her response and kissed her forehead, then turned and joined Joyce in the Ferrari. Dahlia watched with a shattered heart as the engine roared to life. 

Dahlia stood and hugged herself as the tears she had held began to fall.

The car pulled away, the red taillights shrinking until they were swallowed by the night while Dahlia shook in the cold. 

“Mrs. Scott. Please don’t worry, someone will pick us up soon. I’ll walk over there and try to find a connection so I can ask them to hurry. Please sit in the car.” Edward said, and Dahlia nodded absentmindedly. 

She exhaled as she sat in the car; it was a long and wearying sound, almost like a laugh. Three years of marriage, mounting to nothing.

For the first time, she did not wonder how to save her marriage. She wondered whether it was ever real enough to be saved at all.