Chapter - 3 I Will Not Live With Him.
1102 Words
When I open my eyes, I’m in a white room.
“Ella.” My mother’s voice.
“Mom,” I whisper.
Mom and Dad immediately rush to my bedside. I break down in tears the moment I see them, and Vincent’s mother is also here.
“Don’t cry, hija. Mommy’s here. Don’t worry,” my mother whispers, hugging me tightly.
“You’ll be fine, hija,” Vincent’s mother adds, gently rubbing my back.
They tell me I fainted at the VincElla Hotel. Vincent rushed me to Doña Feliza Hospital. They also say I’m fine I only need rest and good food.
“I miss you, Mom, Dad,” I say through tears. I’ve been separated from my parents for four years. I can count on my fingers how many times they visited me in England, which makes seeing them again even more emotional.
“Stop crying, princess. It’s not good for you,” my father says from behind my mother.
I quickly wipe my tears and sniffle before hugging them. “I miss you, Dad.”
“Miss you too, princess.”
***
After an hour, I’m discharged from the hospital. The doctor says nothing is wrong with me—only exhaustion, which caused me to faint. I just need rest, proper meals, and less overthinking.
“Where is Vi—Vincent?” I ask in a low voice.
Since I woke up, I haven’t seen him. I know it was Vincent who brought me to the hospital because before I fainted, I saw him catch me as I fell to the floor.
“He went back to the hotel,” my father replies.
I can’t help but feel sad. It feels like Vincent doesn’t even care. He simply left without checking on my condition. But what else should I expect?
“Go home with us first while your husband isn’t there. Rest at home,” my mother says gently.
I almost flinch at the word husband. Yes, Vincent is my husband. But he’s never treated me like one. He despises me.
“Right, hija, Vincent will pick you up later,” Vincent’s mother adds.
“Huh?” I say, confused, looking back and forth at them. “Why did Vincent bring me to his house earlier? What does that mean?” I ask hesitantly.
They exchange looks.
“Hija, Vincent is your husband. It’s normal for him to bring you to his house. That is your home,” Vincent’s mother says.
“But we can’t live together,” I reply quickly.
“We can talk about this at home,” my mother cuts in.
“But Mom, I—”
“Ella, you need to rest. Don’t think about it. Vincent will take good care of you. He is your husband,” Vincent’s mother insists, kissing my forehead.
“But, I mean—”
“Don’t think about it, hija,” she interrupts before leaving.
“Mom, Dad, what’s going on?” I ask after Vincent’s mother leaves.
“Ella, Vincent is your husband. You need to live together like a normal married couple,” my father says firmly.
“What? Why?!” I shout in shock.
My mother holds me immediately, worried I might faint again.
“Ella! You are married to Vincent. It’s only right that you live together,” my father says. “We’ll talk about this later. I still need to go back to the hotel,” he adds, his tone holding restrained anger.
“But Dad, I don’t—”
“Mariella, please. Drop it.”
My father’s authoritative tone stops me immediately. I know that tone. When he uses my full name, it’s final.
I stay silent and get into the car. The family driver greets me. I smile faintly in return and look back at my parents. They seem to be arguing. I know I’m the reason, and I feel guilty.
***
As we enter the large gate of our house, my eyes wander around. I miss this place. After all this time, not much has changed only an additional gazebo and more flowers. But it still feels the same.
I still feel like I belong. I’m still welcome.
My mother leads me straight to the kitchen. Food is already prepared.
“Eat first, hija.”
“Mommy, did Dad bring me back here because of Vincent?” I ask, ignoring the food.
“Ella, hija,” my mother begins, sitting in front of me and holding my hand. “Your father thinks four years apart is enough. We thought maybe now you and Vincent could try to live together.”
“No, Mom! Four years is not enough to erase the pain Vincent caused me!” I cry.
“Ella, calm down—”
“I was happy in England with Grandma! I was finally forgetting everything that happened in San Miguel! And now you bring me back? For what? To live with Vincent as if nothing happened?! I can’t do it!”
“Ella—”
“I can’t live with Vincent as his wife! Not now, not ever!” I break down completely. “I don’t want it! I don’t want it!”
“Shhh… stop crying, honey. Mommy’s here,” my mother hugs me tightly. “I’ll talk to your father tonight, okay?”
“I can’t live with him,”
***
After I eat, I go upstairs to rest. Mom doesn’t come with me, saying she’ll call Dad at the hotel. I know what they’ll talk about. Vincent and I. And the problem I’ve become.
***
When I enter my room, I freeze.
Pink. Everything is still pink.
My pink room. Pink ceiling, walls, cabinets, curtains, lampshade everything.
I sit on the bed with pink sheets and pillows. I miss it. I miss my life before everything broke. Before him.
Before lying down, I change my clothes. I remember what happened at the airport with the spilled coffee. I look at the stain on my skinny jeans and quickly take them off, along with my white top.
I’m left in my underwear.
Then I remember my clothes are still in Vincent’s house.
I open the cabinet. My old clothes are still there, untouched for years. But I hesitate to wear them, unsure if they’re still good after so long.
So I go back to bed and lie down. I’m exhausted. I don’t want to think anymore.
Not about what will happen if my parents force me to live with Vincent again as his wife.
I don’t want to think at all.
Whatever happens, I will not live with Vincent.
- Writer
