Solita [Completed]

Epilogue

Martin III

I pulled the black velvet box from the study drawer.  A gift for the love of my life.

I penned a short message for her, something simple yet earnest. Tomorrow would be her success ladder and hardhat ceremony. The final chapter of her journey in architecture course.

Her sketches had always been sought after. Every time she picked up a pencil, it was as if her hands were guided by something divine.

At first, she disliked the attention. She hated the sound of her name echoing in conversations she never intended to join. But her brilliance was undeniable. Her works spoke louder than her hesitations, and soon enough, she found herself the talk of every social circle.

I never clipped her wings.

If she wanted to step away from the corporate grind and walk the raw soil of the field, it would never be an issue for me.

As her husband, I was so fucking proud of her.

Yet, I couldn’t always help the gnawing jealousy that clawed inside me whenever others made it blatantly obvious how much they wanted her. She was married, for God’s sake, but that didn’t stop those bastards from circling!

My wife was young.

Breathtakingly gorgeous.

A temptation no sane man could ignore.

And there were days I thought about locking her away from the world to shield her from their greedy and wicked stares.

Men were natural-born animals, and the way they ogled her ignited a primal rage within me that I could barely contain.

If it were up to me, I would have buried them all long ago. But I swore to myself like a sacred vow that I wouldn’t be the kind of man who killed his wife's joy. It took years and more patience than I ever thought I had to master myself, to be the husband she deserved.

I remembered the years when I would beg her to marry me, yet she would gently refuse. I understand. She wasn’t ready then I had no right to demand anything from Arsinoe.

Everyone said I stole her youth. It's true.

They were right.

She never had the chance to explore, to be reckless, to be wild the way a young woman should be. When she chose me, she gave up the world she could have conquered. I robbed her of experiences she would never recover.

And for that, I would spend the rest of my life making it up to her. I wanted to give her freedom not a gilded cage. We started wrong. We loved against reason, against rules. But we could change. We could be better.

Everything that chained me to the man I once was I burned it to the ground.

I changed, not because she asked me to, but because I wanted to be worthy of her love.

Arsinoe had endured enough pain. All I ever wanted was for her to be truly, utterly happy.

I turned the doorknob to our bedroom.

Laughter greeted me, bright and lilting.

"Momma! You can't wear that!" Malchus whined from the bed, while his twin, Monsour, wore a matching frown. They sat cross-legged, eyeing their mother as she modeled different formal outfits for tomorrow’s event.

She stood with her back to me, her slender frame dancing slightly with laughter, her long wavy red hair swaying like fire along her hips. When she turned around, cheeks flushed and grinning ear to ear, my heart damn near exploded.