Page 37 of Something Old

I can’t sleep.

My mind is fighting with itself. My heart is begging me not to give up.

But all that is happening is that I am getting more and more hurt over a man who doesn’t want me. I don’t deserve to feel this broken, this worthless, this rejected.

By my husband.

Just before I fall asleep, I promise myself to close my heart and rather be numb towards him that risk any more pain.

It’s for the best.

Life isn’t a fairytale. And I am not a princess.

Over the next week I do my absolute best to stay out of his way.

I spend a lot of time out of the house too. Shopping. Walking around the city garden. Visiting friends. Browsing bookshops. It doesn’t really matter. I just need to distract myself and create distance between Mas and me.

When I am home and he’s around, I try not to be in the same room as him.

Sometimes, in the morning it’s awkward as we are making coffee at the same time and it’s impossible not to exchange a few words.

But I keep my answers short and get out of his way as quickly as I can.

I don’t even think he has noticed. If he has, it’s a relief for him to not have to fake being nice. Not that he was very good at being nice. Even in a fake way. If I am brutally honest with myself,he hasn’t been nice to me once. And I was blindly going about thinking I was in love with him.

I sigh as I carry my coffee cup up to my bedroom.

I was in love with him.

But I had to turn it off. I had to block my heart and stop my feelings.

It still hurts. I can still feel it there - the hope - but I have to drown it.

Nothing good can come of being in love with Masaccio Vece.

I drink my coffee and get ready for another day where I will leave the house to get out of his way. “Is this my life now?” I say, talking to no one at all. “Is this what the rest of my life is going to be like? Married to a man who doesn’t even want to speak to me - not even comfortable in my home—lonely—” I stop talking because if I carry on, I will cry again.

This sucks.

This is the worst possible outcome I could ever have imagined when I was told I would marry Masaccio Vece.

Mydreamman.

I pick up my handbag, sip the last of my coffee, and head downstairs to my car.

“Where are you off to?” Masaccio’s voice comes from behind me as I reach the bottom of the staircase.

“Just out for a bit.” I say coolly.

“You’re hardly around anymore.” He walks down the stairs and stands close to me. Too close. I can smell his cologne. I can feel the heat from his skin.

It annoys me.

I want to roll my eyes. ‘Oh, you noticed I’ve been going out a lot lately did you.’ I’m surprised.

But instead, I just nod. The less I engage with him the better. I take a small step away from him, trying not to be enticed by his scent. Or his body.

It even hurts to look at him because I still think he is the most gorgeous man alive.

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