Clara stared at the small bottle of pills in her hand. The bottle had been a part of her life for the past five years. It contained contraceptive pills that she had to take every day on her husband Sean's orders. The small object felt so heavy, as if it contained not medicine, but all the sadness she had been harboring since their wedding day.
Yes! Sean didn't want Clara to get pregnant.
The large, magnificent family room was filled with expensive furniture: Italian leather sofas, abstract paintings that were said to be worth hundreds of millions, crystal vases on marble tables.
But none of that could warm Clara's heart. Their house was just a building without a soul, without love. She lived in a palace but felt like a prisoner locked in a silent cell.
With trembling hands, Clara opened the bottle cap and swallowed a birth control pill. Her tears fell before she could close the bottle again.
"I hope you come home early today," she whispered, almost inaudibly, more like a hope she threw into the empty air.
They had been married for five years. For five years, Clara's life had been hurt. Clara's love for Sean was never reciprocated. In this arranged marriage, only she loved. Only she fought. Sean? He never even tried.
Clara stood up, wiped her cheeks, and forced a fake smile at her reflection in the large mirror.
"I have to look happy," she said to the woman she saw in the mirror. "I have to be strong... for the love I chose myself."
*
*
*
At exactly 8 p.m., the roar of a car stopped in front of the big house. Clara's heart immediately beat faster, like a small bird trapped in a cage. She hurried to the door with the smile she had prepared since morning.
The door opened. Sean appeared with a tired and cold expression. The man looked handsome in his black suit and slightly wrinkled white shirt—but not because he had been working. Clara knew. She knew too much.
"You're finally home..." Clara's voice trembled, but she covered it up sweetly.
Sean walked past her without a single glance, without a single word in response. He threw his car keys on the nearest table, then walked towards the bedroom, as if Clara's presence was meaningless.
Clara followed her husband from behind, her steps hesitant but still clinging like a shadow begging to be noticed.
"Do you want me to prepare dinner?" Clara dared to ask.
"I've already eaten." Sean's answer was very short, as usual.
Clara nodded slowly, even though she wanted to ask: with whom? Who else but Moana, the woman who was a real threat to their marriage.
Sean unbuttoned his shirt and threw it carelessly aside. Clara stared silently at the collar of Sean's shirt, where there was a burgundy lipstick stain, a color she never used. She knew exactly who had left that mark.
Her eyes welled up again, but she swallowed the pain quickly. She was used to this kind of treatment.
"Honey..." Clara tried again, this time in a softer voice. "Can we talk for a minute?"
"I'm tired. Don't start bothering me again." Sean cut her off immediately, his tone like a whip that struck Clara's heart.
"I just want to—"
"Stop, Clara! I told you not to bother me!"
Clara stopped. Her gaze fell on the cold marble floor that reflected her own despair. Sean then went into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.
Clara stood stiffly for a long time until she finally understood: she wasn't the wife he loved, she wasn't someone important. She was just an obligation in a marriage Sean never wanted.
*
*
*
That night, Clara sat alone at the dining table. The plate of food she had prepared with all her heart now lay untouched and cold. The small candle she had lit had melted halfway.
Yes! Even though there were two maids in the house, Clara always took the time to cook delicious meals for her husband. Well, even though her efforts were always in vain.
Clara stared at the empty chair that Sean should have been sitting in.
"Why am I still holding on?" she whispered, her voice breaking.
But suddenly, another whisper came from within her heart:
"Because I love him."
"Love is blind."
Yes! Love made her refuse to realize how much she was being hurt.
Clara touched her flat stomach. She wanted to be a mother. She wanted to carry the child of the man she loved. But that dream was always shattered by Sean.
"I don't want to have children with you," Sean once said with a sharp gaze. "I'm not ready to be more deeply committed to you."
Clara covered her face with both hands. She wanted to scream, but her voice was stuck in her dry throat.
"Honey! Why is it so hard for you to accept me?" The woman sighed deeply, then enjoyed her dinner alone.
*
*
*
It was almost midnight when the bathroom door opened. Sean walked to the bed. He picked up his cell phone, then sat back down on the edge of the bed. He seemed busy typing a message with a small smile, a smile he hadn't given Clara in a long time.
"Moana?" Clara couldn't help but ask.
Sean glanced sharply. "That's none of your business."
"I'm your wife..." Clara swallowed hard, pain threatening to fill her eyes. "Don't I have the right to know?"
Sean stood up and approached his wife. His face drew closer, but not to show affection. Quite the opposite.
"Clara, listen to me carefully," Sean said coldly. "I married you because my family forced me to, not because of love. Don't ever think you can have my heart."
Clara felt the ground collapse beneath her feet.
"I love you..." she said softly, her voice almost gone.
Sean laughed softly, a mocking laugh. "That's your problem, not mine. That's your business, not mine!"
The man returned to the bed. He turned off the light without looking back. Clara remained standing where she was, hugging herself because there was no one else to hug her.
In the thick darkness, she cried silently. As if her pain had no right to be heard.
Actually, tonight she wanted to make love to her husband. However, it seemed that Sean was satisfied with Moana's services. Well, like most humans. Even though Sean never loved his wife, they still had sex regularly to satisfy each other's biological needs.
*
*
*
The clock read 2:00 a.m. when Clara stepped out onto the balcony. The night wind blew against her wet face, her hair fluttering gently as if to comfort her. The city below looked beautiful, full of twinkling lights. But Clara's world remained dark.
"Am I wrong to love him?" Clara gazed at the star-filled sky. "Am I wrong for believing in a love I fought for alone?"
She didn't know any answers. She only knew one thing: She still loved Sean.
Even though that man broke her heart every day. Even though that love only brought her pain.
She closed her eyes, letting the wind dry her tears.
"I'll stay here," she said to herself. "Until one day... he sees me."
Clara took a deep breath, then went back into the room and lay down next to her husband.
"Honey." The woman stared at her husband's sleeping face.
But who would have thought that Sean was only pretending to be asleep.
"What? What's wrong? Do you miss my touch?" The man grinned.