Foolishly Falling for You

5

Anita

There isn't much to do in this place. I've grown tired of my books and loneliness is setting in, sinking into my stomach like a stone. I want to get away from here, but there's nowhere to go. Besides divorce is almost unheard of.

It'll be a pain to go through. I relax in my chair and close my eyes.

"You've been so quiet I thought you dead, wife."

I look and there he is. Clad in his military uniform, his dark hair slicked back, tall handsome. Perfect.

As long as you don't expect to treated well, at least.

"I don't mean to disappoint," I smile.

He frowns at my comment, deeply, almost a scowl. "Don't make me out to be some villain," he scoffs. "Why did I think you'd changed?" He murmurs in disbelief.

There's no need to defend myself. If there is something bad to be believed about me, my husband will believe it and the more I attempt to prove my innocence the more he will condemn me. It's useless.

Loving him is useless.
Believing in him is useless.

So I say nothing, but he doesn't leave. He looks around the room and clears his throat. "I came...to talk."

"About what?"

He throws his hands up in exasperation. "I don't know!" He exclaims, his brow furrowed in frustration and disdain, "You're always complaining I don't talk to you. You tell me!"

I purse my lips. "You're clearly irritated at just the thought of speaking to me. Don't force yourself."

"I'm not—" he pauses and looks down. "I'm not some evil man okay? I just don't want all of these things you keep demanding of me—"

"I am not demanding anything of you anymore," I inform him, with a sigh. Why can't he leave me alone? I'm doing what he asks. I'm staying out of his way. Can't I have peace? I guess this is how he felt. How annoying I must've been. I'm embarrassed.

"You don't have to go out of your way to speak to me, or eat with me, or anything. Just do what you've always done."

"What does that mean?" He demands with an edge. "I speak to you! I have dinner with you every night!"

I purse my lips and shut my mouth. This is just another argument I'll be blamed for. Another reason for me to be in the wrong. Another reason to ignore and dismiss me.

"I'm sorry," I say instead, trying to ease the tension. Once his ego deflated he'll remember he doesn't want the things he's tying to inspire me to do, and he'll leave. As long as I don't engage. As long as I don't defend myself.

He huffs, and crossed his arms, content I've conceded to him again, throwing away my pride to appease his. "Look...j don't know what you want just come out and say it."

Maybe he's right. Maybe this is the easiest way.

"I sincerely apologize for trying to force my feelings onto you. I see now how uncomfortable I made you. I just want us to live our lives, the way you wanted. I'll keep to myself." I bow my head, and then I look up finding an odd expression on his face.

"Well...I wa—I mean—that is—" he blinks. "You don't have to bow your head like that, like we're strangers."

Ah. Always fault finding. I tell him I'll do whatever he wants and apologize for being a burden and he tells me he doesn't like how formal my apology is.

"Sorry," I say simply.

"No I just mean...this is all so sudden," he looked away. "Why now? What's changed?"

To this man, his ego is everything. To say I don't love him anymore will lead to more trouble. It's best to play along, play the dutiful wife.

"I just want to heed your wishes."

He frowns and turns around. "Well...good. Good."

He pauses. "The King will probably be calling me to war shortly."

I nod. "This year do you think?"

He nods. "This year or next. By '74 at least."

"Admiral!" I admonish him without thinking.

He rolls his eyes. "Year of our lord, 1874, at least. Must I say the whole thing every time even when it's just us?"

I sigh. "Sorry. Habit. Say whatever you like."

He leaves with that. He resents me, I think for my background, for some reason. Which is odd, since he comes from an even status than I do. He is born of a powerful military family, with a talent for war. It suits him. He's cold and stiff, calculating. 

War suits him. Marriage, not so much.

"Anita Castillo?" He called from down the hall. 

He calls me by my maiden name when he's upset, like a disappointed father. I ventured out and peeked out of the door.

"Have I done something?" I ask.

"Will you assist me--where are you?"

I sigh, edging toward his room. He doesn't like maids or servants. If I weren't here I doubt he'd have any. He doesn't like strangers touching him, or dressing him. Once in a while, he'll call for my help. 

I enter his bedroom, as bare as he is. 

"Help me with my cuff links, please," he calls, holding his hands out. "I have no idea why I am having such trouble."

Neither do I. He does it every day. But I help anyway, buttoning his cufflinks. His eyes rake across my face.

"I will be back soon, wife."

I nod and pat his wrists letting him know I'm done. He adjusts them, his shirt tight across his broad chest. He's always been so remarkably handsome.

"I will be here," I smile softly.

He nods, and leaves. I don't ask where he goes and he doesn't tell me. It's just as well.