Chanter 6
After the interview, we walked through the hallway toward the living area.
Marcus walked ahead, not saying a word.
Near the corner, he suddenly stopped and turned back.
ay that?
“Why did you say
Ah!
I was checking my figure in the mirror wall on th
the
I bumped straight into his back.
right – I’d finally gained some weight recently, and I was pleased with my curves.
“Say what?” I asked, confused.
He pressed his lips together, paused, then said, “That you don’t love me anymore.
I rubbed my sore nose.
“Didn’t you say I needed to express stronger emotions?”
He fell silent, staring at me with heavy eyes.
I brushed past him without expression.
The program was humane
enough not to install cameras in the bedrooms.
I stood frozen before the large double bed.
Marcus and I had been sleeping in separate rooms for a year.
It started with our argument over chang
Afterb him.
changing my agent.
he sided with Victoria and rejected my request, I struggled to accept it. When he came home late one night wanting intimacy, I refused
physical desires.
Marcus was a man with strong phys
In the early days of our marriage, he was almost insatiable, deeply infatuated with my body, seeming to never tire.
During tender moments,
she would lean down and whisper passionately:
“Rachel, you’re mine, Every inch of you”
I still remember that ni
night vividly–him standing half–naked by the bed, looking at me coldly.
“You don’t want to? Fine. Have it your way?
From that day
<
From that day on, he moved to the guest room.
I spent countless nights crying silently under my covers, imagining him coming through the door, holding me gently, soothing me:
“Rachel, I miss you. Let’s not be angry anymore, okay?”
But it never happened.
Once, I swallowed my pride and went to his room under the pretense of asking for advice.
He spoke normally, answered objectively.
But when it got late, he just stared at me coldly and said:
“I need to sleep. Was there
there anything else?”
After that, I stopped going.
Eventually, I learned to sleep alone.
When Marcus came out of the bathroom, I was already wrapped in blankets, sleeping.
The bed was huge – I hugged the edge, making it somewhat bearable.
I thought I would lie awake with anxiety, but surprisingly, I fell asleep quickly.
I suddenly opened my eyes when I felt
I felt his large hand slowly sliding under my clothes at my waist.
Shocked, I turned my
my head.
He immediately pressed his lips to mine, his emotions violent, his breathing hot and heavy with rough pants.
My body instantly tensed, instinctively trying to pull away.
nary and reckless.
He noticed r my resistance and froze momentarily, then became even more aggressive, clearly angry
He had already torn my clothes half–open.
“Marcus, stol
.stop!”
Ishouted.
He stopped.
“What do you mean, stop?” His voice was su
suppressed, almost grinding his teeth, “Don’t you want this? After so long, don’t you want this?”
I pushed him away, quickly fixing my cloth
clothes,
and
I got out of bed.
In the dim moonlight filtering through the window, I saw his bloodshot eyes staring fixedly at me.
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had looked at me that night.
I stood by the bed, looking at him just as he had
“Sorry, I’m not used to this anymore.
We faced each other silently in the darkness.
He suddenly punched the bed and stormed out.
