The Rejected Quisling

VIVIENNE

As I sat in the conservatory of our mansion, I heard the distant babble of the home staff drift away. I had given them the rest of the day off.

Today was my birthday, but I was waiting for Zeke alone once more instead of celebrating.

I glanced at the small gift box on the glass table, accompanied by a bouquet of flowers which was delivered by Zeke’s assistant saying it was on my husband’s behalf.

The box was the same size as the ones I received over the years with no surprise.

I didn’t bother to open it. I bet it was the same gift he gave me last year and the year before that—a luxury car, just a different brand.

I was perfectly sure that it was only Zeke’s assistant doing his professional job. I did not even know whether Zeke remembered my birthday or if he just intentionally ignored my birthday for some reason.

I sighed and forced a bitter smile. Why was I still expecting? Ever since that incident happened, everything took a sudden turn for the worse between us.

Maybe, I just hoped today would be different, a chance to fix our relationship as Zeke had been distant and cold since when.

Neither of us wanted that to happen. Deep down, I thought I was the one to blame too. This realization only made the ache in my heart grow stronger day by day.

As the evening wore on, I resigned myself to the fact that Zeke wouldn't be coming home. It was late when I finally decided to head to bed, exhaustion and disappointment weighing heavily on me.

I was already asleep when the banging on the door startled me awake. Groggy and disoriented, I fumbled to turn on the bedside lamp. The pounding grew louder and more insistent. I hurried to the door, heart racing.

When I opened it, Zeke stood there, supported by his friend Andrew. Zeke’s eyes were bloodshot, and the smell of alcohol was overpowering.

“Finally,” Zeke spat, glaring at me. “What took you so fucking long?!”

“I’m sorry, I was asleep,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Andrew looked at me but didn’t say anything as he helped Zeke into the room. Zeke shook him off roughly, stumbling forward.

All of Zeke’s friends thought he deserved better. Although they never gave me a hard time, I knew they only showed politeness because of Zeke.

I was never truly accepted in their circle. Sometimes, I could see it in their eyes and hear it in their whispers when they thought I wasn't listening.

They believed I wasn’t good enough for him. The weight of their silent judgment added to the loneliness I felt in this gilded cage.

“Don’t forget Alex will be back tomorrow.” Before Andrew left, he reminded Zeke while had a confusing glimpse of pity at me but I did not pay enough attention to that.

My husband's usually composed demeanor was replaced by a disheveled appearance and the scent of alcohol clinging to his clothes.

But his drop-dead gorgeous looks were still noticeable. Yet, seeing him like this made me think that the man I fell in love with seemed so distant now.

Zeke opened his eyes and looked at me with longing for a moment as if he was looking for something through me. Soon, his green eyes turned sharp.

“Didn't I tell you I don't like when your hair is up?” His brows furrowed angrily as he removed my hair from a bun.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

His touch, once tender, now felt like control. My heart hammered so fast.

Then, my husband stated, “Take off your clothes.”

My eyes widened in utter disbelief. The intimacy I craved felt tainted by his anger and confusion.

I forced a smile, trying to hide my disappointment.

"Zeke, you're drunk. And I’m not in the mood—” I tried to argue but he already unbuckled his jeans and freed his hard shaft. It immediately stood proud, making me feel the heat. Still, I was not in the mood to do it.

“You don’t really think you could refuse me, right?” A sneer of scorn crossed his face.

“I thought you already knew your position. How could you still don't know how to behave?” His voice was faintly mocking.

“But—” Even before I said something, he already rose from the bed to be on top of me. I felt trapped, caught between my love for him and the fear of what he was becoming.

There was a great disparity of strength between us, and even my refusing seemed like another kind of welcome.

I soon surrendered to this rare intimate moment we couldn't have for some time. He raised the hem of my dress and made me bite it.

Kissing me aggressively, he parted my legs and positioned himself between them.

His right hand pinned both of my arms on top of my head while his other hand grabbed one of my breasts.

I let out a moan while he was kissing me because of the sensation he made me feel. Then when he got bored kissing me and squeezing my twin mountains, he fixed our position before he finally aimed his manhood at my sensitive spot.

“Z-Zeke—ahh!” My nervous caution turned into a moan as Ezekiel began to enter his long sword into my body. He kept groaning as he thrust in and out on me aggressively. I moaned in unison to his groans.

I was torn whether to stop him or to just enjoy feeling him inside me. The conflict between my physical desire and emotional pain was almost unbearable.

“Ezekiel, I’m cumming!” I gripped his arms which were firmly keeping my hips steady when I felt that I was about to reach my climax. His eyes darkened as he kept going faster.

“Ahh! Ahh!” I arched my back as I came and felt hot liquid from his member fill me.

My husband lay beside me as he relieved himself.

Somehow, bitterness crept within me. I must be silly to expect him to at least give me aftercare. But no. He acted like I was just merely an object to him.

“Take the pill after you clean yourself,” he said impatiently as he wore his clothes back.

My eyes welled up with tears because of his indifference as reality sank in.

He looked at me quietly without any feelings while I tried my best to steady my breathing in a misty of eyes but then his heartless words hit me harder like thunder exploded over my head.

“I want a divorce.”