Prolouge

Prolouge

I was a queen. I had it all. My life was perfect, I was the standard. I’m an idol, people worship the ground I walk on, simply because I’m Rahne Leticia Addams.

Or I was.

Because I gave up everything when the chance to be with the one I love sprung forth. I was seated by myself in the city’s most beautiful cafe, my coffee by my side as I worked on a business project.

Then came in his scent, whiskey mixed with leather and spice, a tingle to the senses. He brought to me a contract document that quested me to become his contracted partner for the next three years.

I would have poured my coffee on him had it been he wasn’t who he was, but he is Samir Kane, the man of my dreams.

I heard him out and couldn’t deny him the chance. I saw it as an opportunity to get and own him like I’ve always wanted.

However, little did I know about what I’m getting into. Then when he came up to me, he told me I looked like someone in need of an opportunity, of a help, and I didn’t argue or change that perspective because I was lost in the beauty of his eyes.

Yes. Yes I was. A shameful thing to say, but the truth.

He condemned my appearance, deemed me poor and wretched. Then came in the offer to become his wife and mouth watering benefits.

I tuned out most of his words and focused only on the part where he asked me to become his wife. Didn’t think twice before I jumped into the decision.

I dreamt of an elaborated wedding, one of a kind, and the best ever seen. But all I got was a piece of paper that demanded my signature and a simple ring given to me to wear.

I dropped all my titles, my values, my business interests to pursue the one dream on top of the rest. To own the man I’ve been in love with since high school.

Yes we got married before I realized it was a loveless marriage, a contractual agreement that’s bound to end.

I read the document, saw for myself how long I have with him to make him permanently mine. Three years. I told myself I could do it, I believed in myself.

And so I dedicated myself to him. I care for him, loved him so hard, and forgot who I was just so I could please him.

My identity was replaced with him. If he wasn’t happy, I wasn’t happy, and so I was almost never happy.

Three years exhausted soon enough, and he didn’t let me go. I thought to myself that I’ve finally owned him, even if all I had to myself was a stone version of him, but I thought it was worth it then.

Five good years into the marriage and he still never regarded me. Was always closed off, and distant. Never thought to appreciate or notice my devotion to him. As his housewife, his partner, and lover. He never did.

Because if he did, if he did just a little bit, then he wouldn’t have served me a divorce document after five years of marriage. He wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t have repaid my years of loyalty with such cruel betrayal. It’s not what I deserve, at all.

And I’d be damned if I don’t make him understand that. I’d be damned if he doesn’t regret his decision.