2

CHARLOTTE

“Rogerio,” I whispered as he shut the door behind him and stepped into the night. The clock ticked softly in the corner of the room as my heart pounded against my chest. I clutched the sides of my stomach to steady my body as a sharp pain shot up my spine, and my eyes ached terribly.

I stood up a few seconds later to look at myself in the mirror again. My reflection stared back at me as my heart broke into a million pieces.

“I did everything right!” I yelled and sobbed loudly. I heard the door open and looked up, expecting to see him and hear that he had changed his mind, but it was the door that led to the staff quarters, not the one he had walked through.

I felt whatever was left of my dignity shed as Maria stepped into the hallway. “Signora,” she said and ran towards me, enveloping me in an embrace. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“I did everything right, Maria,” I repeated in between sobs. She sighed and patted my head.

“Let’s get you into the bedroom. This has caused quite a stir. We can’t let the other staff see you in this state. Come,” she uttered calmly, and she led me down the hallway to my bedroom.

I let her guide me, as I could barely make sense of what had happened. I had gone from being happily married to tearing up divorce papers. “How did I get here?” I asked no one in particular as she led me to the bed, and I sat down.

“Stay here, I’ll be back with...” Her eyes roamed my entire body, and she smiled wistfully. “A lot of things. Stay here, Signora, please.”

I exhaled and nodded in response. I had sobbed so much that my throat was sore, and I was scared to say anything so I wouldn’t break into a fresh batch of tears. I slipped to the floor as she shut the door behind her and stared at the picture placed on the wall in front of me.

It was the only picture Rogerio, and I had of our wedding. I had placed it in the sitting room, but his mother showed her disapproval when she visited, and his grandfather made a snide comment. The next morning, he asked the staff to take the picture in the bedroom.

I sat up and looked around the room. We spent only one night together in this room, and that should’ve told me everything I needed to know at the time. But I had fallen in love with him; I didn’t mind how terribly his family treated me. He still paid attention to me at the time; he made me feel the same way I felt the night he walked into the bar.

Rogerio and I had met under what you would call ‘regular circumstances,’ but our marriage had been a tad different. He walked into the bar where I was working one evening, looking sad and lost, so I kept the bar open just for him for the next two hours. During that time, we got to know each other better, and he invited me to have dinner with his family that weekend.

On our way to the venue, he informed me that his girlfriend had abandoned him a few weeks before their wedding, and his parents were insisting that the only way he could claim his inheritance was by getting married. He asked me to marry him and convince his mother and grandfather that we had been dating for a while now, but they sniffed out the lie before it could be told.

When we arrived, they told him that they were disappointed he wasn’t marrying someone who belonged to their class but didn’t object to the wedding. I paid no heed to their caustic remarks at the time; I had been nice to a guy for a few hours, and he was offering me a better life than what I had bartending, and I was ready to grab it with both hands.

The weeks following that meeting changed my perspective. I realized I wasn’t just interested in Rogerio for his money. As we spent time together planning the wedding, I got to see a different side of him. His ability to organize things and still schedule dates for us to have some fun and get to know each other more left me feeling things I would never have considered for him. A month before the wedding, I was certain I was in love with him.

I could swear on my life that even if he didn’t have all this wealth, he was still someone I could look forward to being with for the rest of my life. Our wedding was the talk of the city.

I cried midway through the reception. I knew no one in attendance, nor could I invite any family members to come over. Dead people don’t get invites to parties, and you can’t really invite family members who have never cared about you to your wedding.

While the audience fawned over me, thinking my tears were those of a happy bride, I felt a little alone and decided that I would make the best of this opportunity to build a family with the Thuthais. All of that had been taken away from me in one night.

“We’re getting a divorce,” I repeated and smiled as tears streaked down my cheeks.

My thoughts shifted to the relationship my parents had before they died. I had been born into a caring family. My parents, Chloe and Larry Edwards were loving parents; they were high school sweethearts who stuck with each other and got married after college. I grew up in a family that set an example of the type of family I would want for myself.

My parents made it easy for me to grow around warmth and love; I never witnessed them having a single argument up until that terrible accident that took them from me. Their lessons about life and empathy set the tone for the type of home I wanted to build with someone I loved.

Love at first sight and a beautiful home filled with love were all I ever wanted, but I quickly learned that things can go south. My attention turned to the door, which was being pushed open.

Maria stepped through the doors carrying a tray with warm towels stacked high and pills in a small container. She set them down next to me and left the room to grab a bowl and a jug of water.

When she stepped back into the room, she handed me the painkillers and started cleaning the food off my body and hair. I had spent two years married to Rogerio, and she was the only person who treated me like an actual human being.

“Signora, I’m going to get the bath running now. Would you like something to eat?”

She dropped the stained towels onto the tray, poured some water into the cup, and handed it to me. “Drink up; it’ll help you feel better.”

“I don’t think anything would help me feel better, Maria. I’m not even sure how I feel,” I responded, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Signora, I don’t think it’s in my place to say anything, but I’d like to ask this. Now that you know Signor Rogerio doesn’t want to be married to you anymore, what next?”

“Why do you always have to be the one that says what everyone else is thinking, Maria? I’ve been trying to avoid that.”

“I’m sorry, Signora,” she apologized, lowering her gaze. She picked up the tray and rose to her feet.

“Rogerio isn’t serious about breaking up,” I started, and she let out an exhausted sigh. “I know you don’t believe it, but there was a time Rogerio loved me. I just need to remind him about that.”

“He said he’d keep sending the papers until you sign them, Signora.”

“Good thing I can also use my hands to tear them up. I’m going to fight for our marriage, Maria. When he returns, I’ll talk to him. He’ll be calmer, and we will have a conversation about couple’s therapy or some other way to make our marriage better.”

She looked at me long and hard, then shook her head slowly. “Alright, Signora, I’m certain you’ll always know what’s best for you. Rest now; you’ll need your energy in the morning. I’ll run the bath and will be in the staff quarters if you need me.”

“Thank you, Maria,” I said. She nodded in response and left the room. I stood up from my seated position and crawled onto the bed. The drugs had started to take effect, which left me feeling drowsy. My eyes closed as soon as my head rested on the soft pillows.

I needed all the strength I could get for tomorrow. “Roggie’s coming,” I muttered, and I slipped into a deep sleep.