I've dreamed of the perfect marriage ever since I was a little girl: a marriage complete with a hardworking husband while I tended to the home and our children, preferably four little rugrats to call my own. I dreamed of a life filled with laughter...
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Otto pulls up to the house I've called mine for the past four years, a three-story Colonial I now realize never belonged to me. I might have lived there, but aside from a closet filled with my clothes and a single canvas print of Daniel and me on our wedding day, you'd never know I ever stepped foot in that house let alone lived there.
Never be a nuisance by intruding into your husband's space, Charlotte. You should always be like a precious piece of jewelry to him, not a leach.
Daniel stands rigidly inside the open front door with his arms crossed tightly to his chest. Light pours out around him, cascading down the grand steps. He looks like a king, decadent and powerful. My heart picks up pace, and panicked butterflies begin to flutter about my tummy like they always do whenever I'm in the overpowering presence of my husband. They've been like that ever since the first time I saw him. Even with everything he's done, my stupid heart and body yearn for this man to see me, to love me, and to choose me.
But, he won't. I know that now.
My jaw tightens and I straighten my shoulders as I attempt to override my pathetic response to this man. Be still, stupid bugs!
His demeanor is so composed, not like a man who's spent the past few hours completely distraught over his missing wife. While I was falling apart, breaking because of his words to her, he wasn't fazed at all by the fact he single-handedly destroyed me.
I don't want to face Daniel. Not right not. Not like this. Not tonight. But, I know there's no way Daniel is going to let tonight's event go so easily, not with the colossal level of embarrassment I brought upon him in front of his family.
Don't embarrass me, little bird.
As he begins descending the stairs, I know my time is almost up.
I watch him through the darkened glass as he approaches my side of the car. I'm a little taken aback when his face isn't reflecting anger like I expected, and it completely unsettles me. I know that face, stoic and calm. That's the face he wears when he's doing business, when he's controlling the game, and, more importantly, when he's pulverizing the competition.
Men like Daniel don't negotiate, Charlotte. They control, and you, as his wife, must follow his every direction.
With a deep gulp, my nerves flare up and my hands begin to quiver in my lap. I'm so out of my league here.
Be your husband's peace, Charlotte.
Daniel has enough stress in his life, Charlotte. He doesn't need you to become just another succubus.
Never be a nag, Charlotte. It's ugly.
Never, not once, have I ever so much as raised my voice to Daniel. Never, not once, have I ever argued with him. Never, not once, have I ever complained to him. I've always done my best to remain calm, peaceful, and doting. I've always done everything he asked of me, not only in our marriage agreement but even with his daily requests. I always chose to be the bigger person, the person to submit instead of push, to be patient instead of greedy, to respect instead of win . . .
