Chapter 6

I glanced down at my right hand. On my middle finger was a silver ring, a replica of my graduation project. The design was inspired by the crackle glaze from porcelain, reworked into fluid, streamlined lines.

"Yeah," I said.

"Looks good," he said.

When he said that, his eyes were on me. They were not searching for someone else in my face, but really seeing me.

After that, I ended up canceling my flight to Modegan.

My mom asked me why, and I told her there was no reason. But, deep down, there was one. It was that look in his eyes when he told me it looked good. I took a gamble for that one look.

The wedding happened three months later. The Sterlings were an old-money family, so the whole thing was a big deal.

I stood at the entrance of the banquet hall in a white wedding dress, clutching my bouquet, my palms slick with sweat.

Morgan was right beside me, dressed in a black suit, his tie perfectly straight. People came over to toast him. He smiled and clinked glasses, polite but distant.

He drank a lot that day. By the time the party ended, he could barely stand, and the groomsmen had to help him back to our room. When I came out of the shower, he was sprawled on the bed, his tie loose, and two buttons undone on his shirt.

I walked over, meaning to pull the blanket over him. Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed my wrist.

"Belle," he whispered.

I froze.

"Belle, don't go." His voice was slurred, and his brows were furrowed, like he was lost in a bad dream.

I stood there, his grip on my wrist so tight it hurt. The bedside lamp glowed, casting light on the decorations my mom had cut out by hand. She'd spent three nights making it, saying it would bless us with a lifetime together.

I gently unclenched his fingers from my wrist, one by one. Then I curled up on the couch in the living room with a blanket and stayed there all night.

The next morning, he woke up, saw me on the couch, and didn't say a word. I didn't say anything either.

From day one, there was this invisible wall between us. We both knew it was there, but neither of us ever dared to break it. I kept quiet. So did he.

Married life was more uneventful than I'd imagined. Morgan wasn't really good to me, but he wasn't bad either.

He always came home for dinner, brought back little gifts from his business trips, and had flowers delivered on my birthday. He was polite. So polite that it felt like we were just roommates sharing an apartment.

The only time he ever crossed the line was three months after we got married. I came down with a high fever of 103°F and was completely out of it.

The housekeeper called him, but he said he was in a meeting and told the butler to take me to the hospital.

The butler took me to the emergency room, got me hooked up to an IV, then brought me back home.

That night, he came home late. My fever had eased a bit, and I was curled up under the covers, half-asleep, when I heard the door open.

Footsteps came over and stopped by the bed. A hand rested on my forehead. It was cool, carrying the chill of the night air.

The hand lingered there for a few seconds, then it disappeared. The footsteps went to the door, then came back. The mattress dipped as he sat down at the edge of the bed.

I kept my eyes shut. I had no idea how much time had passed. Maybe an hour, maybe three. Just before dawn, the mattress bounced back as he got up, and his footsteps faded away.

I opened my eyes. There was a glass of warm water on the nightstand, and next to it, a box of fever medicine. I picked it up and turned it over.

It expires in three years.

Out of nowhere, I smiled. And then the tears came.

*****

Belle first showed up in my marriage five months after Morgan and I tied the knot. It was my birthday.

Morgan said he'd booked a restaurant for dinner. I put on a new dress and waited in the living room until 7:30. I called him, but no one picked up. By the eighth call, someone finally answered.

"Morgan, where are you?" I asked.

A woman's voice came through the phone. "He's in the shower. Who is this?"

I hung up.

Later, he came home with a necklace, saying it was my birthday present and that a last-minute meeting had held him up.

I didn't ask why that meeting was held in Belle's place, or why she was the one holding his phone while he was in the shower. I just put on the necklace, smiled, and said thank you.

I later found out that the necklace was a new release from his company's jewelry line, priced at six digits.

I never threw it away, but I never wore it again either. It ended up tucked away in the back of my dresser drawer, together with a stack of unopened jewelry boxes.

All of those were gifts from Morgan. Every single one was pricey, but not a single one was personally picked out by him. His assistant had my measurements and handled everything.

I found out I was pregnant eight months after we got married. That morning, when the test showed two lines, Morgan was tying his tie. I stood in the bathroom doorway, clutching the white plastic stick in my hand.

"Morgan," I called out.

"Yeah?" He replied.

"I'm pregnant," I said.

He paused for a second, then went back to tying his tie. "I'll have my assistant set things up for you at the international department at Therin Medical Center. The facilities there are better."