The President's Wife

Charlotte Hayes’ POV

Warning: Abuse

They say that marriage is a happy ending to everyone's life. However, not all fairy tales end happily. The crowd's attention was drawn to me as the pressure began to bind me. "Charlotte Hayes! You've been married for nearly two years! Do you have any comments about your husband?" I was hesitant to answer the question. But it didn't take long for me to put a faint smile on my face and say, "My husband and I continue to fall in love with each other as another day passes; words cannot express how grateful I am to have such a wonderful husband."

And, as usual, the journalists would be captivated whenever I mentioned 'him.' But I'm not. I'm sick and tired of explaining the same thing over and over when it's obvious that those explanations are lies. Abuse and misery lurk behind those lights, cameras, and actions. "Have you gone insane?! Why did you hesitate to respond to the f*cking question?! What if they are skeptical of us?!!" Bruises on my face as my body lays in pain on the ground. "What are you afraid of exactly?" I asked, my eyes welling up with tears.

My husband is verbally and physically abusive to me. In public, I put on a happy face, but at home, I cry. I was never happy when I married my childhood friend, actor Jake Peterson. I gradually fell in love with him despite not knowing his true behavior. Reality sets in when we marry. Every day, his rage over something will be directed at me. I've been blamed for everything and hurt for everything... I've come to feel like a doll whose actions are determined by who pulls the strings. Do I still have the right to speak and move?

I flinched as Jake raised his hand to slap me, blocking his fist with both of my arms. "Why, this b*tch!" he exclaimed. When I look in the mirror, I notice bruises all over my body. Your face and body are your most valuable assets as a model; a scar is a source of anxiety. However, cosmetics can help, just as a smile can conceal your pain.

As Jake fell asleep and his rage subsided, I decided to go for a walk around the neighborhood because it was quite cold that night. I was strolling around in the dim light through the dark hollow space. It wasn't frightening, at least not to me. What frightens me... is my husband. I kept walking barefoot, not knowing where I was going. Then I heard something. "Come kitty kitty," it said in the dim light. When I turned around, there was a man caressing a wounded kitten. The kitten reminded me of myself: bruised and without anyone to lean on. 

"This kitten had a difficult life, but it is still standing, strong, and yearning for life," the man said. I admired the man's attractive appearance, and he returned my gaze, revealing his blue eyes. For some reason, he appeared shocked. "Ah," I held my cheek, realizing I hadn't yet applied makeup to cover up the bruises. The man stood up, placed the kitten back on the box, and walked towards me.

He caressed my cheek with his gentle hands and looked at me with a sad expression. And as my tears fell, he asked, "Are you okay?" "Ah.." My heart sank, because no one had ever asked me that question. "I..." I stammered. He grabbed my arms and whispered, "Don't worry. It'll be okay." I was in a warm embrace by someone I didn't know. But it was reassuring. That man became a ray of sunlight in these gloomy, void spaces. I kept crying as he patted my head. After a while... "Sorry," I sniffed. "What for?" he asked, smiling.

I remained in his arms. "I'm sorry for crying so suddenly; it's getting late, and I should go," I tried to get out of his arms, but it was futile. "Say... aren't you Charlotte Hayes?" He asked, looking through my eyes, his broad, strong arms completely wrapped around me. "How did you know?" He chuckled, "Well, who wouldn't know a famous model like you?" I bit my lower lip and stared at him.

"Are you going to tell the press?" I asked, my face flushed with rage and fear. He laughed, his eyes widening. "Oh no, don't get me wrong. Actually... I'm a fan of yours," he said, his cheek flushing. "A fan?" I asked again. In response to my question, he nodded. "I'm hosting a modeling event tomorrow evening. Do you want to come? I've been meaning to invite you since I planned the event," he said as he brushed the strands of my hair to my ear. "Just...Who are you?" I asked, perplexed. "Well, you'll know the details from your manager. Tomorrow..." he continued, "Make sure to come, okay?" It was the first time in a long time that someone looked at me with those soothing, compassionate eyes. This sensation... revitalizes me.

As the sun rises, I get out of bed and go to the bathroom. Jake, as usual, would not be there for me in the morning. I wore a long garment with long sleeves after my morning shower to cover up the majority of the bruises. I entered the kitchen. A model's diet is extremely restrictive. "I guess a sandwich will do," I said as I began to make my breakfast. It was 7 a.m. when I arrived at 'Glammy,' the modeling agency where I work. When I walked into my CEO's office, I was greeted with the office air.

The scent was divine. "Oh, Charlotte! Come sit!" says the CEO, Johnson Lee, motioning to the sofa where my manager, Hanes Jones, is sitting. "Manager, you're here too?" I said as I moved closer to the sofa. Hanes smiled and nodded silently. The silence in the air faded as the CEO began to greet us with small talk as the three of us sat still. "I've come to tell you something, Charlotte," he continued, "you've been invited to a modeling event tonight, hosted by a billionaire!" "A what?" I asked, astonished.

Little did I know that It was on that day forth, that my life gradually changed.