I belong to a stranger (PUBLISHING) Belong Book 1 - Unedited

Chapter 23 - Plucked to Perfection

 

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Chapter 23 – Plucked to Perfection

It was a promise or was it a prayer? It was a prayer. My inner voice replied honestly.

It was everything I had meant for it to be, but I knew somewhere in the corner of my heart that all I could do was to pray really hard to God, that my heart is never up for the bets between Hamilton and me.

While I knew that I had to stay in this marriage because of my family, I had never expected Hamilton to actually stay that out aloud after meeting my family. He was too hard, to hard to be with, too hard to figure out, too hard to understand. I didn’t even know why I had been trying.  

By the time we had gotten back to New York, it was night. After that conversation, neither of us uttered a word. At times I felt that Hamilton was angry, but I failed to understand why he was pissed off, given the current situation I should have been the one furious. But I was not furious; I was just tried, tried by moving back and forth between his flipping personalities. It had really taken a toll on my emotional elasticity. The only thing I wanted was to get back home and complete these six months of prison.

With a numbing sound he killed the engines, turning to my side I suspected he wanted to say something. But I wasn’t ready to hear anymore of him. Quickly I opened the door and sprinted out. Without daring to turn back, I tapped my residence card and got into the elevator.

Tap. Tap. Tap

 

Oh, this felt so familiar. I was glad the Hamilton had no tried to follow me in the same elevator. My only goal was to change into my night suit and brush my speed faster than he gets here. So by the time he gets into the house, I can be pretend sleeping.

The elevator’s door opened after what felt like eternity. And just like before I dashed inside the living room to the guestroom and took out the first thing that came in my hands. Within the next two minutes I had done everything, and lied down on the bed in the guestroom waiting for him to come.

Silence took over the house, and I tried controlling my panting. I couldn’t have slept on his bed anymore. I would keep every distance between Hamilton and me possible. If he gave me an inch I would push for a mile. Nothing was in my control, but I wouldn’t quit trying. Sleeping in another room was another form of rebel.

As Gandhi said, non-violence is the best form of rebel!

 

I realized that it had been over ten minutes, but Hamilton had not returned. What was going on? Maybe he was down attending some call. He was literally always on phone. What I failed to understand was there a connection between how rich you are to how many calls you get per minute? I wondered if he had any friends. But he didn’t seem like he was the sort who made friends, or even needed them. My thoughts wondered to how Mr. Stevenson, who I had met on our wedding reception had looked at Hamilton with love.

Maybe being in the position Hamilton was in, he had a lot more enemies than friends. I guess Mr. Stevenson was one of the rare of actually liked Hamilton. Although I did not blame the people for not liking Hamilton, his my way or the high way attitude made it hard for anyone not want to kick him.