TAKE ME, RUIN ME CHAPTER 1

TAKE ME, RUIN ME CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1: THE WEIGHT OF GRATITUDE

ARIA'S POV

"Thanks so much for everything you have done, Doctor. I really do appreciate it. You have no idea how much you have helped me this far. I am really grateful."

I lean against the cold marble countertop of the kitchen, my knuckles white as I grip my phone. My voice is barely a whisper, but it carries the weight of a woman who has been holding her breath for months. Every word is heavy with a sincerity that feels like it might break me.

On the other end of the line, the doctor lets out a small, warm chuckle. The sound is light, but it does nothing to ease the tightness in my chest.

"All the thanks should be to your husband, Mrs. Aria," he says, his tone professional yet friendly. "I am just doing my job, okay? If not for him, the process would have been delayed, and you know what happens after that."

My breath hitches at the mention of Daniel. The name alone feels like a cold hand wrapping around my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut, taking a deep, shaky breath as a familiar wave of dread washes over me. It is a strange, paralyzing feeling—realizing just how afraid I get every single time his name is mentioned. My heart begins to race, thumping a frantic rhythm against my ribs that I can’t seem to slow down. I wonder how long I have to continue like this, living in a constant state of internal tremors.

"All is well, Mrs. Aria, okay? Just relax," the doctor continues, oblivious to the panic rising in me. "Your mom is in good condition, and you have absolutely nothing to worry about."

"Thank you, Doctor," I manage to say before the call ends.

I slowly lower my hand, the phone feeling like a lead weight. I take another deep breath, trying to steady myself, but all I can do is nurse the broken pieces of my already shattered heart. I glance down at the dark screen of my phone, and that’s when it hits me. The joblessness and the crushing loneliness finally settle on me like a heavy shroud.

I look around the large mansion, and for a moment, the beauty of it feels like an insult. The living room is sprawling and glittering, filled with expensive furniture and art that cost more than my entire education. The sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, reflecting off the polished floors, but there is no warmth in it. Everything is perfect, everything is expensive, and everything is empty.

What is the use of all these things if he can’t just love me the way I love him? The thought enters my mind unbidden, and I let out a long, jagged sigh. I have given him everything—my time, my loyalty, my heart—but it feels like I am living in a museum dedicated to a marriage that doesn't actually exist.

I am about to get up from the sofa, my body feeling stiff and tired, when the front entrance door suddenly swings open. The sound is loud and jarring in the quiet house. My heart leaps into my throat. Is he back already? I didn't hear the sound of the car driving up to the garage. Usually, the gravel crunches or the heavy engine hums, but this time, there was nothing.

I quickly step over to the entrance, my pulse thrumming in my ears. I expect to see the composed, sharp-edged man I married, but instead, I see him stumbling. His gait is staggered, his feet catching on the rug as he tries to find his balance.

"Daniel," I say, my voice trembling.

Terror strikes my nerves immediately. I approach him, my hands reaching out instinctively to catch him if he falls. But the moment I get close, a sharp, suffocating stench of alcohol strikes my nostrils. It is thick and sour, the smell of someone who hasn't just had a drink, but has tried to drown themselves in a bottle. I recoil, my head snapping back from the sheer strength of the odor.

I force myself to regroup. I take a step back toward him, the realization dawning on me with a sickening thud in my stomach.

He has been drinking. Again.

My mind flashes back to all the times I tried to make him stop. I have begged him to abandon this new lifestyle and the group of "friends" he has made—men who care nothing for his well-being and only want to see how far they can push him. I have poured my heart out, trying to show him a better path, but of course, my words mean nothing to him. They are just noise in the background of his life.

"Hey babe. Wait. You don't look good," I say, trying to keep my voice steady and soft. "Let me take you in."

I reach out to grab his arm, hoping to lead him toward the stairs, but he shrugs me off instantly. The force of it almost knocks me off balance.

"If I don't smell good to you, then don't touch me," he spits out.

The sentence feels like a physical stab to my chest. I flinch, the cruelty in his voice cutting deeper than any blade.

"Babe, I didn't say anything like that," I plead, my eyes searching his face for any sign of the man I know is in there somewhere. "Just come in. You are not yourself right now."

"Actions speak louder than words, young woman," he sneers, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. "I saw your face when you came close. I saw the way you looked at me."

I exhale, a long, tired sound. "I didn't mean it, okay? It was just an impulsive action."

"Keep quiet," he snaps.

He turns away, leaving me standing there at the entrance with my hands still suspended in the air. I look at my empty palms and sigh, the weight of the world feeling heavier than ever. Slowly, I follow after him. I don't really have a choice.

He has helped me so much—paying for the best doctors, ensuring my mother gets the care she needs. I know that if I don't perform my duties as a wife, he will find a way to use it against me. He has the power to torment me emotionally through my mother, and that is a risk I can never take. I fight the sting of tears that threaten to slip out of my eyes, blinking rapidly as I follow him into the sitting room.

I stand before him, waiting. He collapses onto the sofa, relaxing his heavy limbs. He exhales a long breath that reeks of alcohol, looking completely exhausted. The silence in the room is suffocating. Then, he suddenly turns his head to look at me, his gaze sharp despite the intoxication.

"Have you thought about my proposal?"

I blink, the air leaving my lungs. The question feels like another stab to my gut, making me feel nauseous. I take a moment to find my voice, trying to be as gentle as possible.

"I think it will be better if we discussed this when you are more sober, Daniel," I say, using his name softly and seductively in hopes of reaching a calmer part of him.

He looks up sharply at me, his expression twisting into something dark. "Are you saying I am stupid right now?"

I gulp, the sound loud in the quiet room. "No, I didn't mean it like that. I was just..."

He abruptly gets up, the sudden movement making me flinch. "What’s that supposed to mean, Aria?"

I immediately begin to step back. He doesn't stop; he walks slowly over to me, his movements calculated and predatory. I feel like prey being backed into a corner.

I swallow hard, my heart hammering. "No, it's not what you think. I was just trying to..."

"Trying to what? Insult my intelligence?" he growls, looming over me. "I am smarter than you can ever be, even right now, even when you claim I am not sober."

I swallow again. I know I have messed up big time. My attempts to help have only fueled his anger. I quickly shake my hands in front of me, trying to de-escalate the situation.

"Do you know what? Just forget about it. Let it go. It's nothing. I was just babbling. Forget I said anything."

"You think I am just going to sit back and ignore the insult you just threw at me?"

"No, I..."

"Shut up!"

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming and dark. He leans in, his voice dropping to a low, chilling whisper:

“You really think you have a choice in this marriage?”