Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“I won’t.” She pulled away from him, stepped inside the house, and he was close behind her, then grabbed her arm. It wasn’t too tight, but she tugged on her arm. “Get off me.”
“Damn it, Clarissa, when will you stop? When will you see this is pointless?” he asked.
“Pointless? You think all of this is pointless?” she asked.
“You’re doing this to punish me.”
She looked at him. “And you don’t think you need to be punished?”
“I’m your fucking husband!”
“And I’m your wife!” She never raised her voice. All her life she’d been told to always be amenable. To never make waves. To be a good little wife. “But you didn’t think about that when you told your friends how disappointed you were. Where was my respect that night?” She tugged her arm out from his grip.
“It meant nothing,” he said. “It was just a bunch of friends having a fucking joke.”
She let out a hysterical laugh and then started to clap her hands together. “How funny you were. I’m sure you’re all mighty proud of yourself. After all, we’re just women. We have no feelings. We’re told what to do and so long as we make no waves with our husbands, it will be fine. I’m sorry I can’t be stiff as a fucking statue out of the bedroom.” Clarissa then bowed down as if in servitude. “Forgive me, my lord and master.”
Again, she didn’t know where this came from. But without another word, she spun around and ran back to her sewing room. He didn’t follow, but then he never followed. She flicked the lock on the door and collapsed against it.
She was trapped in a loveless marriage in Hell, and there was no chance of escape. In the corner, mocking her, was the suit she was so close to finishing. She should tear it up, destroy it, but that represented months of techniques she painstakingly learned.
Tears filled her eyes, and she wrapped her arms around herself, not wanting to be here. Not wanting to even think about everything that had happened.
****
Lorenzo stood outside of Clarissa’s sewing space.
No one knew her grandmother had approached him. After her sister’s unexpected death, he wanted to end the agreement. However, he was told that wasn’t going to happen, and he would be married to Clarissa, the young sister. He hadn’t given it much thought, and seeing as it was a business deal his father had made, there was no escape for him.
He spent the ten years of their engagement enjoying women. Not once did he take a moment to see Clarissa. He did so on purpose. If he saw Clarissa as a ten-year-old girl, there was no way he would be able to go through with a marriage and have children with her. So, he stayed away and would never have the memory of her as a child.
Before her grandmother passed, she came to see him in this very house and told him Clarissa was a special woman and she would need her space. If he wanted to have a good marriage, he would need to provide a means for Clarissa to handle everything. At first, he thought the sewing room was ridiculous, but her grandmother wouldn’t be swayed. So, four years before they were set to marry, she helped him create this very fucking room that kept his wife so far away from him. He appeased the older woman because she’d been sick.
His father had wanted him to marry Clarissa when she turned eighteen, but he refused. He met Clarissa on their wedding day, and seeing her walk down the aisle, he’d been completely blown away.
There were many people who claimed Clarissa was the ugly sister, the dull one. She had long, brown hair, a beautiful smile, with full lips, and she had curves. The wedding dress had molded to her curves, and the instant hit of attraction had shocked him. He never expected to be attracted to his wife.
On the day of his wedding, he got a letter from Clarissa’s grandmother, who asked for him to be patient with his bride. To give her time. It was rather detailed and yet, it had left out a significant part. He didn’t know that Clarissa, at ten years old, had been there, holding her dying sister in her arms. No one had arrived on time. She held her sister until it was too late, and even afterward. No one told him. He learned that through listening in on a conversation with the girls, which explained everything.
After he learned the truth, he went to her parents and discovered so much pain about Clarissa. Sewing and knitting was her therapy. It was how she was able to deal with the memory of her dead sister. When she was in her sewing room, it meant she was having a hard time. He put his hand on the door as he listened to her sob.