betrayal (3)

with a trembling hand, I put the cursed phone down on the small table, chocked back a threatening sob and left the room. The world was suddenly too dark, too cruel, I couldn't believe that this was happening to me. Why me?? why?? why did he choose me? endless, hot tears fell down my cheeks, I was dying, suffocating, I had to do something, oh god I had to do something. I brushed the relentless tears furiously and headed back to the living room. I nudged him hard, as hard as I possibly could. He stirred, one eye opened and then the next, confusion evident in his beautiful , lying face. " Why?" I whispered, tears falling down my cheeks. " What? What is it??" He said gruffly. " I know everything. I want d-divorce" " What the hell are you talking about?" He was suddenly alert. I could see wariness in his face. " I saw your texts, everything" I spat out. "I want divorce" " It's not what you think..."He said carefully, panic evident in his beautiful features. "It's.." "I'm not stupid Mubarak I want divorce!!" " The hell you're getting one!" He yelled. " you have no right to talk to me like that, you lying, cheating bastard!" I cried. " I never chose you, my mother did" He shouted. "I didn't fucking cheat on you, now quit the fucking drama, ever since I married you it all stopped!" " what??? what?? the fact that you still have her texts and pictures!!!! god, Mubarak, what are you?? what have I done to you?? why did you marry me??? why didn't you marry her? I don't get it, I'm a fucking fool, I loved you! god I loved someone I don't know, I thought you were decent, I thought...oh god" I was sobbing and yelling at this point. I've lost it, I was dying inside. " Why didn't you marry the fat, ugly bitch?" " Don't you dare!" I sobbed harder, the fact that he was defending her was more than I could bear. This was a nightmare. " Listen to me Shaikha, don't you dare talk to me like that, ever! now Calm the fuck down and hear what I have to say" He said almost dangerously calm. " I married you because I had to. I'm going to provide everything you need. Any expensive shit you want, you'll have. All my money is yours, in return I want babies. I can't offer love I'm sorry, I'll respect you and we'll try to coexist together." " Respect?" I gave a humorless laugh. " I'm sure after what I saw-" " Shaikha!" He yelled. " Forget about divorce. you're not getting one" " please" I whispered brokenly, suddenly feeling trapped. " I beg you" " Forget it. I'm sorry you had to know the truth this way and I'm sorry, I can't change it and I won't divorce you" I later discovered the full ugly story. The damage was already done, we were married; it was too late. He fucked me. It was too late. He was with her for five years, a Delicate Saudi princess; the love of his life. People said it was the greatest love story. A Kuwaiti powerful, beautiful young man, and a princess, they met in a foreign country and couldn't stay away from each other. Everyone thought it was the most romantic story, except his mother. She hated the idea of her only son, living away from her, and married to a woman she didn't know. She wanted a local girl from a family she knows and trusts. Me, the clueless child bride, who'll make beautiful babies and shut her mouth. Little did she know that I wasn't what I seemed. I'm make his life a living hell, and then I'll get divorce. I wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt me, I wanted to see him fall. He created a monster and the monster had a plan. Divorce can wait, I had to destroy him first, ruin his life and kill him first. My tears as if in a cue dried instantly. " Okay, fine" I said. " I'll forget about divorce for now. We have a plane to catch" He was shocked, or furious or both and I didn't give a damn. I had to leave the room. Now! " Excuse me" I miraculously made it to the airport with him. I even looked nice. My dirty blonde hair curled to perfection, my fair skin radiant, nothing some BB cream and blusher can't fix. And some mascara and lip gloss. I wore my most flattering sweatpants and a white T shirt. He was a beautiful giant in sweats next to me, we turned heads. We happily ignored each other on the plane. I had movies, a book, a super comfy seat and sleeping pills. This should be enough. It had to be. I didn't want to lose it here, not now. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. I had to win this. I was nudged awake several hours later. " we've arrived" The husband announced. Without looking at him I pulled myself together, gathered my stuff and prepared to leave the aircraft. We were in Rome. The city of love. It was a cruel joke and I had to laugh. The minute I stepped into our honeymoon suite I wanted to scream. Honeymoon was written all over it. Damn it, it was the most romantic thing I've ever seen. This was proving to be harder than I'd anticipated. The room was absolutely gorgeous, and I specially loved the bathroom; I decided to take a bubble bath, someone had to take good use of it, such a waste.. Between my long luxury bath and unpacking, I didn't see him and I was glad. I needed the solitude, and I was too exhausted to act strong. I needed to wallow in self pity a little. I soaked the crisp white, soft pillow with my tears, and dark oblivion finally claimed me. I dreamed of them. Of my heart bleeding, it was too graphic, too vivid. So much for taking refuge in sleep. I woke up exhausted and miserable. The bastard was already up. Sipping his bitter coffee (I knew how he took it), and reading the paper in Italian. In fucking Italian! I wanted to scream. So much for trying to destroy him, I was the one who was hurting, I was in love with him...The day haven't even started and I already felt deflated. Stupid, stupid Shaikha! I shouldn't have came here. I shouldn't have yielded to this, oh god this was a huge mistake, I could've fought and left him and... My phone beeped, interrupting my venomous thoughts. I immediately checked it, nothing important. I was so glad I had my phone with me; it gave me a fake sense of security and I could at least pretend to text if things got awkward between the two of us. And then a sudden thought occurred to me. I was hurt and miserable, but so was he! He was away from his beloved, in a honeymoon with another woman, whom he didn't give a flying fuck about. He was hurting, even if he didn't show it. He was as miserable as I was and I could make it worse, I had to make it worse for him. My spirits soared a little, I decided to make the best of this trip. I showered slowly and luxuriously, did my hair and makeup and carefully picked my wardrobe. I chose a little floral dress that showed off my tiny waist and instantly felt better. Amazing how one can feel good when one looks good.. I took my breakfast in the lobby. A frothy cappuccino with some delicate pastries. This was actually quite nice and I wasn't pretending! I loved hotels, I wish I could live in one. Room service, luxury, white, always clean bed sheets and no heartbreak and husbands who loved other women, the idea was too good to be true. Right after I finished my breakfast I went out to discover the city. Alone. I took long walks and hit the shops. I was actually enjoying myself. It was gorgeous, I was in love with the city, everything looked ancient and stunning, it made my heart ache. heartbreak was much tolerable in a beautiful city like Rome. When I finally went back to the hotel, my arms were loaded with shopping bags and I was down right exhausted, I was gone all afternoon, shopping and walking and I desperately needed a power nap and some refreshments. " Where the hell were you?" Mubarak's vehement voice came as soon as I entered the suite. " why do you care?" I asked, defiantly. " Shaikha!" " I'm not in the mood to fight" He reached me in two strides, fuck he was too big, scary.. " I said, where were you?" " Shopping, discovering the city." " mat3arfeen tgooleli?" " I just did, now may I go to bed?" I said and walked past him, not giving him a chance to more verbal abuse.