Page 9 of Veiled Vows

There is a short moment of silence before she talks once more, her attitude cold. “Make sure you are not neglecting how you look for this job. In a few days, you're scheduled to go to the hair salon for a bleaching treatment on your hair. “

“No,” I say firmly, putting a stop to this nonsense. “I won’t change my appearance to impress you or anyone else anymore.”

“Serena, don’t be silly,” she screeches. “You know how important it is for you to—”

“I don’t care!” I interrupt, feeling a surge of anger. “I’m done with all of it. I’m done with the constant pressure to look perfect, to be perfect. If you can’t handle that, then maybe you should stop calling.”

I can almost hear her fuming, searching for the right words to regain control of the conversation.

“You’ve lost your mind,” she finally says. “You’re making a mistake, Serena. You’ll regret this.”

“Maybe I will,” I reply, my voice softening slightly. “But it will be my mistake to make. Goodbye, Mother.”

After ending the call, my hands tremble. This is my first time confronting her so openly, and the sensation is both thrilling and frightening. I inhale deeply, attempting to calm myself.

I place my head in my hands and chuckle, the sound softly reverberating in my office. I finally expressed what I had been wanting to communicate for all those years. It feels like freedom. My vision blurs with tears of relief and laughter, and I quickly wipe them away when I hear a knock at the door.

"Come in," I call out, still smiling.

A few of my colleagues enter. Despite my short time here of just two weeks, I have loved every moment of working in this place. The people are just wonderful.

Sasha plops down on my desk, while Daniel leans against it, his usual calm self.

"We're heading to the club tonight with some folks from the firm to blow off some steam," Sasha says with a grin. "You in?"

The idea of a night out sounds like exactly what I need. "Absolutely, I’m in."

Daniel fingers the ring on his finger and looks at me thoughtfully. "You can tell your husband to come as well if you like," he suggests, his tone casual but probing.

I shake my head, keeping my smile in place. "No, he's quite busy. Maybe next time."

I can tell Daniel is curious, probably wondering about my marriage, but he doesn’t press further. Instead, he nods and says, "Alright, we'll see you tonight then."

I can't help but wonder about his curiosity. Is it because our marriage is always discussed in the tabloids, painted as a fairy tale? Or is he interested in me personally? Both options are less than ideal. I shake off the thought. I don’t need more stress.

They leave, and I feel super excited for the evening ahead. For once, I’m making decisions for myself, enjoying my life on my terms.

I look around my office, the place already giving off a feeling of being a second home. I've discovered a space where I can truly be who I am and I am extremely proud of it.

As I head back to the mansion, dread fills me. I know Salvatore won’t like my plans for tonight, but I don’t care. I’m my own person, and I’m not going to let him dictate my life anymore.

The moment I open the front door, he is there, greeting me immediately. He takes my purse from me with surprising gentleness, sets it aside, and even kneels to help me out of my heels. The gesture is so out of character that it catches me off guard.

"I made Alfredo pasta, your favorite," he says, his voice almost hopeful.

I thank him coldly, not wanting to encourage his behavior. "Thank you."

I notice the flowers he put on the table as we sit down to eat. He’s been giving me an extravagant bouquet every day, it’s weird. They are pretty, but I don’t comment on them. The only sound in the room is the clinking of our forks against the plates. The silence is thick.

"Do you like it? I asked Lucia for the recipe," he asks, breaking the silence.

"It’s okay," I reply, not giving him a single compliment. I don’t want to praise him for the bare fucking minimum.

The silence stretches on, becoming almost unbearable. Finally, he snaps. "Please, Serena. Please, just talk to me."

I glance up, surprised by the raw plea in his voice.

"How was your day? Did you finish that series you told me about? What did you do at work today? Baby, please, just talk to me," he begs, and it’s then that I notice the dark circles under his eyes, how his cheeks are sunken in. He looks worn, almost desperate.

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