Chapter 1
I got alexithymia, never been good with emotions, just born that way.
Maurice Raymond always saw me as clueless, but his family still made him marry me.
That year, when Maurice hated me the most, he brought home woman after woman, as if trying to rub it in my face.
He'd get all cozy with them right in front of me, without a shred of shame.
Maurice would say, "Yasmin, you wouldn't understand. This is just how normal people show affection."
To make his new girlfriend laugh, he even tricked me into wearing some seriously revealing clothes and doing a suggestive dance in front of everyone.
He just stood by and let her film my awkward moves, then sent the video around the lab, trashing my reputation for good.
He was convinced I was emotionally numb and clueless about everything.
But he had no idea that under the table, my ankle was already teasingly brushing against his sworn enemy's calf, sending a subtle, flirtatious signal.
It wasn't until I heard the laughter that I realized I'd been played.
I froze, then awkwardly yanked off my blindfold.
That was when I saw I was barely covered, just a tiny scrap of fabric leaving most of my body exposed.
Shame made my whole body tremble.
The girl was curled up in Maurice's lap, laughing so hard she nearly doubled over.
"Maurice, that glass-cleaning move she did just now was too funny," she said, still giggling.
Maurice pulled her close and kissed her cheek, looking completely smitten.
"Feeling better now? Not mad anymore, right?" he asked.
The girl shyly snuggled closer into his arms. "Not mad anymore. You're so sweet to me."
Maurice's friends burst out laughing.
"Making the little idiot do a sexy dance? That's hilarious! What was that even supposed to be? At least idiots are supposed to be flexible, right?" one of them snickered.
"She might be an idiot, but damn, that waist is slender, and her skin's so perfect," another added.
"Come on, let me show you how she moved just now. Does it look like a duck?" one of the guys joked.
He started making all sorts of ridiculous, embarrassing moves.
The room burst into laughter again, and Maurice just held the girl in his lap, enjoying the show, not even bothering to stand up for me.
Shaking, I glared at him. "You lied to me."
A week ago, Maurice suddenly said it was our second wedding anniversary and that he had a surprise planned for me. He told me I should get something ready for him too.
He said he wanted me to dance for him.
For once, he didn't seem to hate me, and that made me really happy.
I wanted to make him happy too.
So I said yes and started learning from the person he picked out.
Today was our anniversary, and he sent someone to pick me up.
He even had me put on a blindfold while someone else got me ready, saying that was the real surprise.
Maurice shot me a bored look, his arm still around the girl in his lap. "And how exactly did I lie to you?"
I said, my voice trembling, "So, making your sweetheart laugh is the surprise you had for me?"
No, this wasn't right. I knew it wasn't.
But I still had no idea how to put my feelings into words.
All I could say was, "I'm leaving."
Maurice scoffed, "Tch, didn't I say? She's not gonna react to anything."
"Yasmin, pour my girl a glass of water. Her throat's sore from laughing so much," he ordered.
"Didn't you always say you wanted to make friends? Well, here's your chance. Show some manners and help out," he added.
Every time Maurice brought a woman home, he'd just boss me around like I was his maid.
After they finished fooling around, he'd always tell me to go change the sheets in the guest room.
"The sheets are all wet. The guest can't sleep like this, Yasmin. You're the host, aren't you supposed to make sure our guests are comfortable?" he'd say.
Watching them all crack up together, I kept my head down, fidgeting with my clothes, feeling awful. "I'm going home."
But Lexie Duffy, still curled up in Maurice's lap, grabbed my arm. "Yasmin, don't go! We're just trying to help you be more social, you know?"
"I even recorded your dance and sent it to everyone at your lab," she added with a smirk.
I felt like I'd just been struck by lightning. When I grabbed my phone, the screen was blowing up with messages.
My awkward dance video was all over the work group chat.
In the video, I was wearing barely anything, clumsily doing some risqué moves.
I looked like a total clown.
The work group chat was blowing up with messages.
It said: [She always seemed so innocent, but who knew she was into all these shameless acts behind our backs.]
[Total disgrace. Academic scum.]
Some guys who could never measure up to me took the chance to trash me in private messages.
One of them sneered: [Wow, such a slut. Bet all your academic achievements are just from sleeping with men.]
Vicious rumors spread like wildfire, everyone was talking behind my back.
Even the dean messaged me, sounding helpless: [Yasmin, you'll need to take an unpaid leave for now. Someone's accused you of academic misconduct and falsifying research.]
I was shaking with anger as I glared at Maurice. "Why? Why did you have to do this?"