Cracks in the cage

ISABELLA'S POINT OF VIEW

I woke up with a heaviness in my chest that refused to go away. Felix’s words from the night before played over and over in my head, clinging to me like a curse. You’re not going anywhere. Be a dutiful wife or your family pays the price.

The morning felt colder than usual. Two guards lingered by the door of my bedroom, pretending to stand at ease but really making sure I didn’t step foot outside without permission. Even when I went to the bathroom, I could feel their presence just beyond the door, like shadows that refused to leave me alone. My life had always been under Felix’s thumb, but now the leash had been pulled so tight I could hardly breathe.

The hours dragged. I sat by the window for what felt like forever, staring at the trees swaying outside and wondering what freedom would taste like. I was stripped of even the simplest choices. I couldn’t walk out, couldn’t call anyone, couldn’t do a single thing without permission.

By evening, the silence of the day was replaced with activity. Maids bustled in and out of the room with clothes, makeup, and jewelry, preparing me for Felix’s gathering. He wanted his wife to look perfect, the flawless ornament he could display at his side.

They zipped me into a silk dress that clung too tightly, the fabric suffocating against my skin. I painted on a smile in the mirror, though it never reached my eyes. When I stepped out, Felix was already waiting in the hallway, dressed in a tailored black suit that screamed power. His eyes swept over me, and a slow grin curved his lips.

“You look stunning,” he said, but there was no warmth in his voice. Just possession. His hand grazed my waist, firm and claiming. “Now, let’s show them what perfection looks like.”

My stomach twisted.

Downstairs, the living room had been transformed into a grand reception. Crystal glasses clinked, laughter filled the air, and men in expensive suits circled the room like wolves hungry for business deals. Women in glittering gowns whispered behind manicured hands, their gazes darting toward me as Felix led me in.

His grip on my arm was tight, his fingers digging into my skin with every step. To everyone else, we looked like a powerful couple. To me, it was just another prison, dressed in velvet and diamonds.

“Gentlemen,” Felix’s voice boomed as he introduced me, “my wife, Isabella.”

Eyes turned toward me, admiring, some even envious. Compliments floated around, praising my beauty, my elegance, my “grace.” I smiled politely, bowing my head the way Felix expected, but inside I was screaming. Every kind word felt like poison because they didn’t know. None of them knew what it cost me to stand here, smiling at men who thought my life was a fairytale.

Then Felix laughed, his arm tightening around me. “She wasn’t always like this, you know,” he said casually, almost teasing. “It took me years to tame her.”

The room went silent.

Every smile froze, every glass halted mid-air. My cheeks burned, humiliation rushing through me so fast I couldn’t move. Tame. Like I was an animal he had broken into submission.

I forced my lips into a stiff smile, blinking hard to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. I could feel every pair of eyes on me, some filled with curiosity, others with pity. And Felix? He just smirked at my side, pleased with the power he held, pleased with the way his words caged me even here, in front of everyone.

I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. But all I could do was stand there, playing the role of his perfect wife, while inside, my heart cracked a little more.

I could feel the weight of it pressing on me. The laughter, the fake smiles, the clinking of glasses, all while Felix sat beside me with his hand resting heavy on my lap. His grip was firm enough to remind me not to move, not to try anything stupid. I wanted to scream, to push his hand away, but instead I forced myself to laugh at a joke one of his associates made. My cheeks burned, my stomach twisted, and my heart pounded like I was in a cage gasping for air.

Every time I shifted, Felix squeezed just a little tighter. I wanted to stand up, to walk away from that suffocating table and leave them all staring. But the moment I even thought about it, his hand slid higher, pressing down hard on my thigh. His lips curved into that cruel grin, and he whispered without moving his eyes from the guest across the table, “Sit still.”

The rest of the evening dragged on. I heard my name dropped once or twice, accompanied by a mocking laugh or an admiring glance. Felix puffed his chest, bragging about how lucky he was to have me. Then, as if he needed to assert ownership, he said something that made the entire table fall silent. His words cut through the air like knives, and I felt every eye on me. My face burned with humiliation, but I smiled, pretending it did not bother me. Pretending was the only way to survive.

When the last guest finally left, I bolted. I ran up the stairs, my heels clattering against the polished floor, and locked myself in the room. I threw myself on the bed, my chest heaving, tears spilling down my cheeks. I was so tired of this, so tired of pretending, of playing his puppet. My hands clutched the sheets, my voice cracked in the empty room as I whispered, “God, please, I can’t do this anymore.”

The door creaked, and I froze. Felix stepped in, his expression softer, almost gentle, like a man who hadn’t just humiliated me in front of a table full of strangers. “Isabella,” he said calmly, “don’t cry.”

I shot up, glaring at him through my tears. “What do you want from me?” My voice was loud, trembling but loud.

His calmness snapped. “What do I want? You almost embarrassed me tonight. Do you have any idea what that could have done? You think this is a game?”

His voice thundered against the walls, and something inside me snapped. I had had enough. I darted off the bed, heading for the door. Freedom. I could taste it. My fingers grazed the handle, but before I could pull it open, his hand wrapped around my ankle. I screamed, kicking, clawing at the floor. “Let me go!”

We wrestled. My nails scratched his hand, my legs kicked wildly. My heart pounded in my ears, and desperation gave me strength. I grabbed the nearest object from the table, a heavy glass ornament, and swung it. It connected with his head. He groaned, stumbling backward.

This was my chance.

I scrambled to my feet, my chest burning, my mind racing. Run. Get out. Get away.

But then, a thought struck me. What if I stayed? What if I gave him what he wanted? If I became the dutiful wife, maybe one day he would let me go. Maybe that was the only way out.

I froze at the top of the stairs, my tears blinding me. Do I leave and risk everything, or do I play the game until he grows tired of me?

“No,” I whispered to myself, shaking my head. “I have to leave. I have to start over. I can’t live like this.”

And before my courage could vanish, I ran. Out the door. Into the night. I didn’t look back.