ANGELA

I didn’t know how to tell my husband and his parents once again that I had just been disowned by my father without an awkwardness settling between us.

Ethan was still staring at me, waiting for my response. His face was pleading, almost as if he was begging me to tell him that it was a lie.

“I have no rights as a member of the Diaz family anymore. They kept pressuring me to divorce you so that I could get my spot back, but I would rather stay with you, Ethan. I still have a job at the company which I had managed to secure. We can work together to build something as a new family, right?”

I saw Ethan share looks with his parents, but I didn’t care to decipher what those worried looks on their faces could mean.

“I’m not sure about this, Angela.” Natalia shook her head. “Having a bad relationship with your parents because of Ethan doesn’t sit right with us.”

“My father will come around,” I assured her, assuring myself as well.

It took a moment of them telling me their doubtfully thoughts before they gave in, and I followed Ethan into our bedroom, unpacking with him.

“It’s going to be okay, right? Luckily, he’s going to come around, right?” I asked, staring at Ethan, waiting for him to nod and agree with me about it.

He never replied. His brows furrowed, and he was deep in his own mind, too busy to give me words of assurance. I soon found out why.

~

Things had changed.

It had only been two weeks since I got married to Ethan, and our cloud nine was starting to dissipate from the sky, drawing me closer to a fall. My relationship with Ethan was stumbling, and so was my relationship with his parents.

“I was thinking about going here for our honeymoon,” I suggested one early evening as we prepared for dinner, pointing to the page of a small island that was affordable and had discounts for couples on a magazine.

Without sparing the magazine a glance, Ethan waved me off.

“It’s too late for a honeymoon, Angela. I’m busy, and we don’t have the kind of money to be spending on resorts when we’re fine where we are.”

His voice was monotonous, as if he had been waiting for the day to come so that he could give me an underwhelming response to break my spirit.

“I don’t understand, Ethan,” I voiced. “You don’t want to communicate with me anymore. You don’t enjoy doing things you used to with me. Even your parents are starting to seem quite strict. Did I do something?”

This seemed to grab his attention, and he snapped his head in my direction with a glare that made me shift in discomfort.

“Angela, you need to realize that the world does not revolve around you. I’m busy with a lot of things, you have your job, and my parents have their business—”

“And what about when we do have time for each other?” I cut him off. “We used to make love, Ethan. Now, all you do is use me for your pleasure and dispose of me. I don’t enjoy it.”

“If you feel that way, I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time.” He kissed me on the forehead and headed out of the room.

I hated how it took only a forehead kiss for my insides to flip and for me to start defending Ethan even to myself that he was not a bad person. He was simply going through a lot of stress.

In the past two weeks, I had called my dad about three times, but he only picked up the first time. When he found out that I was not willing to divorce Ethan, he hung up and didn’t pick up again, so I stopped trying.

Ethan’s parents now found every reason to criticize me anytime I tried to do something.

“The meal you made was too salty.”

“I don’t like sugar in my tea, Angela. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Ethan told me about how stressful this marriage has been on him in such a short amount of time. I think you should give him some space.”

There was always something negative to say to me and about me, and I found it strange that they were being cold and bitter towards me all of a sudden. It didn’t make any sense, and I had definitely not seen those signs before I got married to Ethan.

I got into my work clothes and headed for work, losing most of my focus at work as I spent most of my time thinking of what I may have said or done wrong in just two weeks.

Due to the overthinking, I had made a mistake at work, which cost me a penalty that entailed working late.

By the time I was done and decided to go home, I found Ethan sitting on the kitchen chair, staring at nothing.

“Hi,” I greeted, kissing him on the cheek and getting a glass of water to drink. “Work was so exhausting today. I had to stay back and write a more detailed exclusive report that I was supposed to do tomorrow, can you believe that?!”

Ethan turned to me, and my smile was wiped off my face as I saw how he was staring at me.

“So, where did you come from so late at night, wife?” The way he asked the question scared me, and I didn’t know whether to answer or not because I had just told him that I had to work well into the night.

“Work; I just told you,” I replied with a smile, hoping that he would smile back and let the whole interrogation be put to rest.

He only got off the chair and walked towards me, his face never changing from the cold and dark look he had on his face.

“You don’t get off work this late,” he said.

“I really just told you, Ethan; I was penalized for making a mistake, and my boss gave me work. He didn’t even go home early. He had to wait for me to finish the report so that he could go through it and—”

“So, you and your boss were alone in the entire office until about nine p.m.?” He raised his brow, crossing his arms.

I frowned as I tried to make sense of what he was trying to imply.

“Yes, because I was working and he had to supervise me.” I finished the glass of water and started to make my way towards the bedroom. I could hear him behind me, but I didn’t acknowledge it. I just wanted us to be the happy couple that we were supposed to be and not fight over silly things like that.

As we got into the bedroom, I turned to him with a grin, hugging him and wrapping my arms around him. Maybe it was a good thing that he was jealous. If anything, it showed that he still cared, right?

“Angela,” he said, his voice now thawing. “If I told you to do something for me, would you?”

“In a heartbeat,” I answered.

There was silence, and I couldn’t tell if he was thinking of what he wanted to ask of me or if he was just as immersed in the moment as I was.

“I want you to quit your job.”