CHAPTER 2

Chapter 2

Justina's POV

I decided to bail on the honeymoon vacation.

It wasn't really much of a honeymoon vacation after all if my spouse wasn't coming along. The deposit was lost but I hardly cared.

Instead, I held my breath, my senses tingling as the car I was inside parked outside the mansion, which is now called my marital home.

Just for good measure I dialed my newlywed husband's phone again.

Straight to voicemail

Another deep breath. I can do this.

With steps as heavy as lead, I threaded into the mansion, to the bedroom, to knock off my shoes and dress comfortably to wait for him.

But down the hall, I could already hear it. At first, it was dismissible muffles of sound that grew louder as I got closer to the bedroom. It got clearer, too. Deep, animalistic moans. By the time I reached the door, the smacking sounds of rapid copulation filled every corner of my ear.

“Baby faster! faster!!”

“You’re really asking for it aren't you?”

After hearing Mark's voice I forgot to breathe for a second, I backed away then I realized that the door was slightly ajar by two inches or so, it gave me a slim frame that showed their bodies becoming one over and over again, sweat dripping over their skin muscles flexing and stretching, deep cries.

It was like the ground beneath my feet was beginning to fall apart, I clutched my chest.

Part of me wanted to walk away, to pretend I saw nothing.

The glimmering diamond on my hand said I was Mrs Grey, the position I had sought after for years. Confronting him now would mean…No, he doesn't get to do this!

He doesn't get to make a fool of me.

My self-respect forced me to burst into the room; instantly, both of them jerked away from each other. The woman's first instinct was to grab the duvet and cover herself hiding behind Mark's broad shoulders.

Mark's face went from shock to a light surprise when he saw me.

“What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at the airport waiting for the flight?” He said casually, reaching for his boxers and having a conversation with me as if there wasn't a nude woman shivering behind him, as if he had not spat on our wedding vows when they were less than a month old.

“Is that all you have to say to me, Mark?” I asked, tears beginning to well up in my eyes. “We haven't even been married for 2 months and you are already cheating on me!”

“If we're being technical,” he said bringing his boxer up to his waist and standing up, “I was cheating on Lucia with you not the other way around,”

I looked between him and the woman, through her messy hair and freckled face, I recognized Mark’s personal maid, whom he had been oddly fond of, and my whole body went stiff.

“I don't understand…you've been dating her before you proposed to me?”

He nodded easily.

“Yes, our relationship spans several years,”

I knew it looked desperate, I knew it was pathetic, but it asked anyway: “Is it just physical?”

It was so humiliating to ask, as if this marriage could be fixed if he told me that there were no feelings involved, as if it would wipe away the hurt of his being with another woman.

He shook his head, and it was like a sledgehammer. He turned back, cupping her cheek, a look of adoration swelling in his eyes that had never been directed at me, and he said, almost like a whisper.

“It was never just physical,”

Now I was crying full on tears and not hiding it anymore, I took a few steps forward, closer, maybe to see if there was any guilt in his face.

There was none, or maybe it was so minimal that I couldn't see it at all.

“Then why did you marry me?” I asked my voice rising up to the roof, “Why bother being with me when you wanted to keep sleeping with your maid?”

“Don't be silly Justina..”

I was thrown back when he called me by my name, something that he did either when he was angry or very serious.

His face seemed to age about a decade, lines appearing that I didn't even know where they were before.

“My parents would rather be dead and buried than ever allow me to marry someone they consider a ‘low life' you should know how they are,” he said and I did, there was a time my family was going through a bit of a slump in our business and it was quite saddening how I wasn't able to visit Mark then.

On the days I did manage to enter their home, his parents, who were normally nice, became cold and distant; that was when I understood that only money mattered to them.

My parents' company was eventually able to pick itself out of that slump, but I never saw Mark's parents the same.

And now I don't think I'll ever be able to see Mark the same again.

“So what am I to you?” I asked as my entire world tilted on its axis.

Mark stepped forward and squeezed my shoulders.

“My best friend…what else?”

I was frozen for a second, then I slapped his hand away as if it had burned me.

“Your wife!” I blazed at him then held my ring finger up to his face, “... The one you said vows to cherish through sickness and health, to be with you till the end of your days, don't you remember?” I yelled in his face the saltiness of my tears brushing into my mouth, “You took advantage of my feelings! How dare you, Mark?!”

He attempted to hold me again, but I pushed him off even more roughly than before. Now I was standing, and I was not just sad, I was burning with a lit rage.

“Mark, I want a divorce!”