Can't Escape 3

Four

(Note: I have a question for all of you at the end, don't forget to answer it, the correct answer will gift you another two chapters for the story right away.)

The things she had endured with him as her husband for the second year seemed way more brutal than the past others. With every thought revolving around leaving the house to the thoughts where she had found him love her beyond no walls within them holding her right in place.

But the question raised everyday, "Was the sense of love way more important than her own well being?" She knew the answer was nothing she wished for but the turmoil of understanding things better for herself seemed to be lost in a dark mist.

She sat down on the floor, head resting against the bed frame, her thoughts drifting back to the beginning. She remembered their wedding day with a bittersweet clarity, the joy she had felt and the hope that had filled her heart. The man she had married had seemed so different then—charming, attentive, and full of promises of a future brimming with love and happiness.

The memory of their first real conversation as husband and wife came rushing back. It had been just after they returned from their brief honeymoon, a time she had hoped would be filled with tender moments but had instead been marked by his moodiness and impatience. The first evening in their home, he had called her into the living room, his tone flat and devoid of the warmth she had been expecting.

She had approached him nervously, the newness of their life together still a delicate thing she didn't want to disturb. He was sitting on the couch, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his eyes fixed on the view outside the window.

"Sit down," he had said, not looking at her. His voice was calm, but there was a coldness in it that sent a shiver down her spine.

She had perched on the edge of the armchair opposite him, her hands folded in her lap, heart racing. The silence stretched out uncomfortably, broken only by the faint clink of the ice in his glass.

After a few moments, he had finally turned to her, his gaze piercing. "There are things you need to understand about how this marriage is going to work," he had said. His eyes held a sternness she hadn't seen before, a hint of something darker lurking just beneath the surface.

She had nodded, her throat tight. "Of course," she had managed to whisper, trying to hide her unease.

He had leaned forward, placing his glass on the table, and clasped his hands together. "There are rules in this house, and I expect them to be followed. You'll have responsibilities, and I need to know I can rely on you to take care of things without having to tell you twice."

She had nodded again, her heart sinking. This wasn't the gentle conversation she had envisioned, but a set of demands being laid out. "I understand," she had said quietly, the weight of his expectations settling heavily on her shoulders.

His expression had softened slightly, but there was still a hard edge to his gaze. "Good," he had said. "And remember, I have high standards. Disappointment isn't something I handle well."

Those words had lingered in her mind, a subtle warning that hinted at the harsh reality she was only beginning to glimpse. From that moment on, she had felt the pressure to meet his expectations, to avoid the disappointment he had so clearly outlined. The love she had hoped would blossom in their marriage seemed overshadowed by a growing fear of his disapproval.

Back then, she had tried to dismiss her unease, convincing herself that every relationship had its challenges and that she would find a way to make it work. But as time went on, the conversations grew colder, his demands harsher, and the glimpses of affection rarer. The man she had married became a distant memory, replaced by someone who saw her as a possession, something to control rather than cherish.

As she sat on the floor now, those early days felt like a cruel illusion, a façade that had crumbled to reveal the harsh truth of her life with him. The warmth and affection she had once longed for had been replaced by a constant struggle to survive his anger and meet his impossible standards.

She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes. The love she had believed in had twisted into something unrecognizable, a trap from which she couldn't see an escape. The rules and expectations he had laid out had become chains, binding her to a life of fear and uncertainty.

In the quiet of the room, she allowed herself to mourn the loss of the life she had once imagined, the love she had thought would grow stronger with time. The man she had married was gone, and in his place was a stranger who controlled every aspect of her existence. Yet, despite everything, a part of her still clung to the hope that somewhere within him, the man she had fallen in love with still existed.

To be continued
I have a question for all the reader here [ What do you think is Taehyung's profession? ]. The correct answer will give you all a quick update. So don't forget to comment and vote.