Always The Second Choice

11. Anymore

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Nicola turned on her heels.

"Yeah, you are right. I make up scenarios in my head and judge people. Because, as you said, I am a selfish, judgmental bitch." She walked back to the island and placed the plate and glass down as Dominic got off his stool, ready for a fight.

"Let's look at my fake scenarios then, shall we?"

"What are you-" Dominic started but was cut off with a raised hand.

"My husband does not love me." She said. "True or false?"

"What?"

"True or false?" She shrugged. "It's just a one-worded answer, Dominic Grant. Does my husband love me or not?"

"This is stupid." He averted his eyes. He had answers to a lot of questions. This one was one of the exceptions.

"He doesn't." Nicola nodded to herself. "Does he wish he was married to Natasha Cunningham instead of me?"

"Nicola-"

"He does."

"That's not true."

"Shut the fuck up." Dominic was stumped by the coldness her voice held.

"My in-laws hate me, my parents hate me, and all my sister feels is guilt towards me. My husband takes someone else's name on OUR wedding anniversary. But I am not allowed to care. I am not allowed to react. I am not allowed to just have enough of it. I am not allowed to ask for a divorce. Because that makes me a selfish, judgmental bitch, doesn't it?"

Dominic took a step back. 

Nicola was not aware of the tears, but they were falling... Falling like they should have for all these years. Falling like they were scared there wouldn't be a next time for a long long time, because there probably wouldn't.

 It was his first time witnessing his robotic wife's emotional side—her tears. 

And it wrecked him. For inexplicable reasons.

She believed that everyone hated her. It just wasn't true. They were just mad at her. But how was he going to make her understand while she was in this state?

"And then you also have the audacity to ask me why I am happy with the people who actually make me happy!" She wanted to throw the wine in his face, and she should have too. Alas, she wasn't a fan of violence of any kind or wastage of good liquor. 

"Nicola, listen to me." Dominic took steps toward her. "I think there's been a terrible misunderstanding. You have misunderstood all of us."

Nicola grimaced when she finally became aware of all those wretched tears. She wiped them off as if they had burned her skin and glared at him. "Now he has the audacity to question my intelligence!"

"That's not what I meant!" 

"Save it, Dominic Grant. Your reasoning is not something that I am interested in entertaining." Nicola shrugged, her mask coming back in place. 

"No. Don't do that." He took a step forward. 

Nicola narrowed her eyes, not budging from her spot. "And what exactly am I doing now?" 

"You are going ice-cold again. Don't do that. Talk to me." There was a newfound desperation in his voice. He thought he could fix this. Fix this misunderstanding or whatever misconception he believed her to be having. 

Nicola let out a visible sigh. "No." She said, every bit of evidence of her outburst had disappeared by then and she looked as composed and indifferent as ever, except for her red puffy eyes. "And I am sorry for bursting out at you like that. It was not my place." 

Dominic winced at the conviction with which she believed and said it.

But he did not know what to say. 

What could he even say? It was not like he knew this woman, knew what she thought or believed.

He did believe that what he heard was just the tip of the iceberg and there was more to it and he needed more information, more data, to be able to take on this project. 

Little did Dominic Grant realize that he was taking this on and analyzing it as if he would analyze a problem at his work. He was still not seeing her as his wife or someone he cared about, just another inconvenience that he needed to settle. And that was one of the problems in the first place. 

No one saw Nicola for the human she was. 

For her parents, she was the spoiled last-born who would never do anything that they told her to do just because she was stubborn and didn't like being told what to do. 

For her sister Stacia and therefore her brother-in-law Malcolm, she was the scapegoat in their love story, the one who had to take the brunt. They couldn't see past the guilt to find their baby sister who still existed there somewhere. 

For her in-laws, she was an inconvenience and now trouble. They didn't care much about her other than that.  

For Maverick, she was a reminder of a wish gone wrong. He felt guilty towards her too. And pitied her three. 

And for her very own husband, she was just a nobody. A woman - no - a girl that he had to marry to make his grandfather happy. He never tried to get to know her, see past the mask. 

Had Nicola ever tried to get to know him? Show herself past all her layers? Well, that was a completely different story. One that she did not like to recollect.

Nicola squared her shoulders. 

It was usually Blair or George who had seen her outbursts. She lost her cool for a moment there. It was a mistake but she was too stubborn to admit it to herself. 

"I don't care." She told her mantra out loud.

"What?" Dominic was confused. He had not said anything. He was not aware of the motto, the mantra, the sacred words etched in stone, of his wife's life. 

"I. Just. Don't. Care." She shrugged, enunciated every single word, and then added as an afterthought. "Anymore." 

"Don't say that." Dominic was simply throwing words at this point. He did not know what to say or how to get her to say more. 

At that moment, he truly realized how little he knew Nicola Montgomery and how much of a stranger they were to each other. 

Nicola smiled, a genuine sweet smile. 

Dominic was stumped. He was stumped every time he saw her smile or laugh, which was seldom directed at him. But now she was smiling at him. 

"Thanks for listening to my bullshit, Dominic." She said. "You should charge me." 

"Why would I-" 

"Anyway, the food is getting cold." She did not give him a chance to speak and went back to the kitchen island and settled down on a stool and started to scoop her pasta into her mouth. 

Dominic stood rooted to the spot for a while but he knew the conversation was over. 

The twenty-two-year-old drew the lines and set the boundaries in their relationship. 

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Hello my sunshines, I was supposed to update this chapter on the same day or the next day as the last chapter because that was one shitty cliffhanger but as some of you might know, I am in med school and med school is a bitch. I got caught up with shit. 

But here you go, it's not much but I tried my best at a confrontation. Failed confrontation.

All the love in the world,
Moonie