It was quiet at Harrington’s mansion when the clock struck midnight. The only sound echoing was the soft rustling of curtains brushing among themselves and light footsteps trying to reach their destination, seemingly in a hurry. The footsteps came to a sudden halt in front of a grand door. Pushing it open, the person moved closer to gaze at the woman in bed.
Ophelia Harrington, the lady of the manor, lay asleep, softly snoring. Unaware of the gaze on her, she shuffled around to get comfortable.
Suddenly, feeling something brush against her leg, she jolted awake in panic. She opened her eyes in confusion and panic, frantically looking around in the dark. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized who it was.
It was Julian Harrington, her husband, who was currently trailing his hand up her leg. Not knowing whether to relax or panic more, she just lay there.
“Julian…” she tried to say, only to fall on deaf ears as he continued his actions. His expression was as cold as ever. Even in this intimate moment, he couldn’t be bothered to show her a hint of gentleness. In the past two years of their marriage, he had never bothered to be at home with her more than a handful of times.
Ophelia’s face was pale. She bit her lips as she tried to stay awake, but her consciousness gradually faded. In the end, she fainted under Julian’s assault.
As the morning approached, sunlight filtered through the gap in the curtains, casting a soft glow on the bed. Ophelia, still in slumber, only stirred awake when the soft sunlight turned harsh. Slowly opening her eyes, she sat up looking around to find her husband. She let out a bitter laugh as he was nowhere to be seen, leaving the space beside her already cold. As always. She was used to it.
Carefully, Ophelia got up from the bed, her movements slow due to the unbearable soreness coursing through her body. She picked up the clothes from the edge of the bed and put them on. Wobbling to the bathroom, she then freshened up.
She averted her gaze, unable to bear the sight of her own body, and walked out to retrieve her clothes from the closet. Just as she finished picking an outfit, she heard a slight noise behind her.
Turning around, her eyes widened in surprise to see Julian walk in, ready to go to the office. But what surprised her was him coming to meet her the morning after. He had never done this before ever. “You haven’t gone to work yet?” her voice a bit stunned.
Julian ignored her and handed her a bottle. Subconsciously, she accepted it. Looking down at her hands, she turned the bottle around to read the words on it. ‘Contraceptive Pills’, she read. Her head shot up to look at Julian.
“Take them.” He ordered.
“Julian… I can’t-” Ophelia began, only to be interrupted again.
“Eat it.” Julian frowned.
Ophelia’s eyes grew dim. She pursed her lips. Opening the bottle, she took one out. She picked up the glass from the bedside and gulped the medicine. Drinking the water right after to wash the bitter taste away. In truth, the reason why she didn’t want to take them was because she was allergic to them. However, Julian never knew. He had never cared about her. Even if she told him, it would be useless. Ophelia put the glass back.
Thinking, this would be the end of the conversation, Ophelia turned around to take a shower in the bathroom. Shortly stopped by Julian’s heart-shattering words.
“Ophelia, we need to get divorced.”
The words struck her like a blow, leaving her speechless. She turned around, looking at him in disbelief. Only after a long silence did she find her voice again. With a lump in her throat, she fumbled helplessly, “Why…? Why now…I…Our-” Tomorrow was supposed to mark their second anniversary.
Julian’s voice was calm and indifferent. He didn’t even look at her as he spoke, interrupting her again, “Ophelia, you know that I don’t love you. I married you because I needed someone to marry, and you were willing enough. That’s all. And...”
“And...?” Ophelia spoke up, wanting him to finish his words.
“She’s back.” He completed, shamelessly.
She was back. Ophelia didn’t know who “she” was or even wanted to, but one day, accidentally stumbling upon Julian’s wallet, she saw her photo secured. The same way “she” is in his heart and the way Ophelia could never be. She knew that Julian could never love her the night she heard him whispering “her” name in sleep. Ophelia’s eyes were bloodshot. She subconsciously reached for his arm in an attempt to stop him.
Her mind racing with memories of their wedding day. Julian didn’t hesitate to pull away, his voice cold and direct, “You can ask for as much money as you want.” Ophelia’s hand froze in mid-air. She asked, still dazed, “So, that’s how you view me? A gold-digger?” Did he think that she married him for money?
Julian frowned. Wasn’t that it? He remembered how happy she was when he gave her the extra credit card. “The house in the suburbs will also be under your name. You can pack up and go to the courthouse in the afternoon to finalize the divorce. I have already registered for the papers to be ready.”
“But Julian, we can-” Ophelia tried to argue back.
Just then, his cell phone rang. He quickly took it out and, seeing the caller ID, his eyes softened. "Hello, darling…Yes, we’ve already agreed. And you? Good girl, I’ll be right there.” After hanging up, he turned around and left without saying anything else.
Ophelia stood dumbfounded at his leaving back. Her legs gave up as she fell on the floor. In the moment of panic, Ophelia felt short of breath She was trying to fill her lungs with oxygen but fell short of breath. Her wailing haunted the servants of the manor.
Quickly, one of her maids ran up to her room. Seeing Ophelia sobbing on the floor, the maid sat beside her to console her. After a while, Ophelia sobered up. The maid glanced at her worriedly. She looked the exact opposite of what she looked like daily. Polite and kind lady of the house.
Ophelia stood up and took her phone and purse. She headed out of the room and the maid followed her steps quickly. Like a crazy person, Ophelia descended the stairs and headed out of the mansion. The servant stopped her, worry evident in her eyes.
“Madam, are…are you okay? Where are you going?” Ophelia’s voice was hoarse, barely a whisper “I am fine. I'm going out by myself.” She wandered the street alone lifeless, not knowing where to go. But she knew that if she stayed in that house, she would suffocate!
Suddenly, her phone buzzed. She halted. Someone had sent her a picture. Ophelia unconsciously bit her lips as she opened it. The photo showed a couple. A slender woman was clinging to a man as they hugged each other intimately. Her heart ached so much that it felt like it was about to split open.
She had to bite her lips harder to stop herself from crying, which caused them to bleed. Her entire body was cold and trembling, her eyes out of focus. In her shock, she stepped off the curb without looking. The blaring horn of the truck barely registered in her mind. The driver, unable to stop in time, swerved desperately but couldn’t avoid her.
All of a sudden, a passer-by waiting at the traffic light, screamed sharply, “Watch out!” Before Ophelia could react, she was knocked into the air by the truck.
The truck’s front bumper struck her with a bone-jarring impact, sending her flying through the air. She landed with a sickening thud on the asphalt, her phone skidding across the road. The sound of screeching tires and gasps from onlookers filled the air as she lay motionless, her phone still clutched tightly in her hand.
