Page 79 of Plus-Sized Bratva Prisoner

She spends her free time in the library, reading, not talking much, giving short answers when I try to talk to her. Sometimes I sit with her, but she turns her body slightly away from mine and curls her legs up beneath her, as though she is trying to protect herself from me.

I don’t understand what changed. It all seemed to be going so well—then, suddenly, out of the blue, this happened.

If I move closer to her, she literally takes a step back. She turns her head away from me if I lean down to kiss her.

Each time she does this, it seems to break a piece of my heart. My body is aching to hold her, to feel her tenderness again. But it seems that those days are over now.

I’m beginning to panic, in all honesty.

Desperation has sunk into my bones like a nagging sickness, eating away at me.

Any day now—any dayshe is going to tell me she is ready for a divorce.

Any day now, she is going to step out of our agreement, and all I want in this world is to change her mind. But it seems that this fantasy I’ve been living in is coming to an end.

***

My feet feel heavy on the stairs as I carry coffee up to the library. It's Saturday, neither of us has to work today, and I have planned something for us. It’s an attempt to pull her back towards me. An attempt to show her how much she means to me, because I can’t just sit back and let this happen.

I step into the library. The early morning sunshine is filtering through the stained glass window, splashing colors across Tia’s face.

She looks up at me, a distance in her eyes, a coldness in her body language.

“I made you some coffee. I thought when you were done, you could come out somewhere with me.”

“Oh. I was just going to read today,” she says without emotion in her voice.

“Please, come out with me.” I’m not the type of man to beg, but for her—for her, I will do anything.

She sighs and bites her bottom lip.

“Alright. I guess I can come out for a bit,” she finally agrees, and I hold back a sigh of relief. I put the coffee down on the table next to her chair.

All I need to do is show her how special she is to me, and then she won’t want to leave anymore.

“I’ll be ready downstairs in about half an hour.” I smile, feeling nervous and tense, then walk out of the library, tellingmyself everything will be okay as my fists clench and unclench. When last did someone make me this nervous? I can’t seem to recall.

She has this effect on me that no one else does.

***

Half an hour later, Tia walks down the stairs wearing tight-fitting jeans that accentuate her gorgeous full curves, and a soft white cotton blouse that shows off her plump breasts.

Her hair is pulled up into a cute and messy bun on top of her head and her lips are tinted pink, bringing out the rose color in her cheeks. She smiles at me as she walks down the stairs towards me.

My eyes graze over her, and I think to myself, I can’t let her go. Whatever I do today, I have to spoil her rotten so that she never wants to leave.

“We’re going shopping,” I say, opening the car door for her.

“Oh. Was there something you needed?”

“No, I just thought we could browse together and have fun spending a bit of money?”

She smiles, but it doesn’t seem to reach her eyes. The drive to the mall is quiet. I hope this works. I hope she sees what she means to me when I try to give her everything.

At the shopping mall, as we walk around, I try to take her hand, and for a few minutes, she lets me, but then finds an excuse to let go—searching through her handbag for lip balm or checking her phone, then not taking my hand again afterwards. Inotice everything. Every move, every time she steps away, every time she won’t make eye contact with me.

Every shop we go into, if she looks at something and seems to like it, I buy it for her. Clothing, shoes, jewelry, handbags.Everything. I want her to feel like a queen, spoiled and taken care of. But the more we shop, the sourer her expression becomes, and my heart is weighing heavier and heavier in my chest.

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