Page 7 of I see you Beauty

I don’t want to let him win. Even though I rarely put up with arguments, I prefer to keep the peace. The way he treats me, looks at me, and talks to me goes too far. It hurts me too deeply. I can no longer tolerate being hurt by my husband.

“As long as my husband, who loves me, doesn’t treat me like his wife, talks to me disrespectfully and behaves like a cold ass?—”

“Careful, Cora!” Thomas interrupts me with a hiss. Reflexively and much too roughly, he grabs my neck with his hand, squeezing it to cut off my words, then pulls me close to him.

Startled, I looked up at him because he had promised—or actually sworn to—me last time never to touch me like that ever again. In tears and on his knees, he had begged me not to leave him. He swore to do better and so much more. I believed him, as I had many times before. But at the time, I thought he was serious. That’s why I can’t stop my hand from hitting his cheek with a slapping sound, not even a blink of an eye later. It’s like a reflex that guides me to protect myself.

His head jerks slightly to the side, and my palm burns like fire. The fact that we are still standing in front of the open front door in our hallway is irrelevant to me. I don’t even care about the motorcycle passing by, which seems to have slowed its speed and whose driver must have witnessed the scene. Thomas has massively crossed the line here, and he knows it.

“Don’t come home today!” I whisper, gasping, after his hand has released my neck.

I don’t want him in my house anymore. Not like this. Not if he turns into that monster of a man again. I can’t take it anymore. I put up with it for too many years and put up with everything he did to me because I didn’t want to deprive June of her father and, therefore, her perfect family. Then, when she started college and I no longer had any reason to stay with him, I was too afraid that he would no longer support June financially. I knew if she discovered why I was considering separation, she would help me and upset her father. I couldn’t put her through that. Everything I have ever done was to secure my daughter’s happiness. June is my everything, and I’d go through hell itself for her—even if it means sacrificing my wants and needs. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat and will continue to do so.

Abruptly, he lets go of me and looks at me with terror in his eyes. His red cheek is glowing angrily. He blinks rapidly, and a thousand thoughts seem to be running through his head. But I don’t care.

He has to leave. Now!

Thomas wants to say something and opens his mouth, but I don’t want to let him sweet-talk me into forgiving him again. It has happened far too many times. I was young, naive, and foolishly believed in the idea of first and only true love. But I'm no longer sixteen. I'm an adult, and I know how life works. He is my husband, and I love him, but I don’t have to put up with this.

So, I take another step back. I rub my hands over my neck, which is throbbing painfully, and although I will them to stop, tears spring into my eyes.

Thomas looks at me, nods gently for a long moment, and leaves our house.

I snap out of my daze and let the tears fall when he closes the door behind me. My entire body trembles and it feels like I can sense every punch, kick, and blow from all those years on my skin again. It’s as if all the countless bruises are reappearing and spreading across my body. I instinctively wrap my arms around myself, seeking solace in the comfort of my embrace.

It’s excruciating that he would dare to touch me like that again. After the last argument and his solemn promises, I had hoped it was indeed the end of it. His remorse seemed so genuine. We had enjoyed months of peaceful calm between us. Yet, over the past few weeks, he’s reverted to being controlling and distant. I should have seen it coming, but it still shocks me deeply.

Is it possible that he will ever change? And if not, will I have the courage to leave him…? I know the answer to both questions, which is simple: No, I won’t.

Tears are streaming down my face. I rub my arms repeatedly, trying to give my feelings an outlet, but it’s useless. They overwhelm me, dragging me down into the dark depths of my soul, into a terrible, deep black abyss from which I know I can't free myself alone.

I press my hand against my mouth to suppress the choked scream trying to escape from my throat. This can’t be happening again! I refuse to feel like this anymore, teetering so close to the edge and fearing I’ll fall into the abyss because of him.

Because he broke his promise. Again.

I know that if I don’t put a stop to it now, he’ll hit me again. And again and again. No matter the circumstances.

He’ll raise his hand when the food is lukewarm because he arrived later than expected, and I didn’t anticipate it.

He’ll grab me by the hair and push my head onto the ironing board when his shirt isn’t creaseless because it’s my job to iron it properly.

He will hit me if I talk to a strange man without his permission.

But I can’t and don’t want to live like this anymore.

Sobbing, I rush outside into my garden. Tears blur my vision and continue to stream down my cheeks. I run across our lush, perfectly trimmed lawn toward the pool. Standing before it, I remain rooted, gazing at the water’s shimmering surface.

I try to calm myself, wrapping my arms tightly around my torso, cradling myself like a distressed child seeking comfort and protection, yearning to be held and loved unconditionally.

The sunlight dances on the rippling surface, casting me into a trance. It’s like a gentle siren song meant only for me—beautiful, irresistible, and composed solely for my ears. In an instant, I feel utterly calm. No pain, no turbulent thoughts dragging me back to my painful past, forcing me to relive it. Inside me, there’s only a serene silence. Almost peaceful…

Yes, I feel peaceful. My tears are drying up. The trembling has stopped as I descend the first stone step. My foot sinks into the cool water. The second follows, reaching the next step. The water is slowly sloshing up my calves, eating into the fabric of my skirt, making it heavy, as heavy as I need it to be.

My heartbeat is steady. So is my breathing, even though I’m on the verge of stepping into the pool fully clothed. I shut my eyes and embrace the cool water as it slowly envelops me. It welcomes me like an old friend, and I eagerly accept its embrace, sliding into the water with arms outstretched, ready to be surrounded and consumed by it forever.

Suddenly, I felt pressure around my wrist.

Startled, I turn around and look into a mix of amber and gold. Ezra…?

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