loving you was a mistake

It started subtly. A missed breakfast here, a sharp response there. Aurora, once the very definition of grace and warmth, had become a shadow of herself.

Mark had noticed it days ago how she no longer waited for him to get home before eating, how her once vibrant eyes dimmed during their conversations, how she would randomly walk out of the room mid-discussion as if reality had become too heavy to hold.

He sat at the edge of their bed, lacing his shoes, and glanced at her through the mirror. She stood by the window, arms folded, still in her robe, her eyes lost in the clouds.

"Rora, are you okay?" he asked gently. "I'm fine," she said too quickly, too stiffly. You sure? You haven't said much all morning."

"Not everything needs to be said." Her tone was clipped, cold. She turned away from the window and disappeared into the closet.

Mark sighed. He was growing used to this routine tiptoeing around his own wife like a stranger. He finished dressing and walked to the kitchen where Miriam, their housekeeper, had already laid breakfast. Aurora came down five minutes later, wearing a black dress and no makeup. Her beauty still glowed, but it was distant now like looking at a star from across the galaxy.

"I'll be heading to the office later. Do you want to stop by for lunch? "No." Her answer was flat, her eyes avoiding his. Mark clenched his jaw but kept calm. "Okay. We could watch a movie later? Just us?"

She didn't respond. Instead, she picked at her toast like it offended her. "Aurora, please talk to me. I know something's wrong." She slammed her cutlery down. "Why do you keep assuming I'm depressed or something?!"

Mark raised his hands in surrender. "I didn't say you were—"

"But you implied it! I'm not some fragile doll, Mark. Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe I want space. You ever think of that?" He stared at her in silence for a moment before replying, "Of course I do. I just… miss the way things used to be."

"Well, maybe things change, and we all learn to live with it." He didn't push further. He knew that tone, the walls behind it. So instead, he nodded quietly. He walked over, placed a soft kiss on my forehead, and lingered for a moment. "We'll be fine, Aurora. Everything will be okay."

I nodded, unsure if I believed him.

After breakfast, Mark gathered his briefcase and keys. "I'll be back earlier today. Let me know if you want to have dinner out."

I didn't respond. Just gave a half-hearted nod and watched him walk out, the sound of the front door closing behind him ringing louder than it should have. Moments later, I pulled myself together, showered, dressed in a soft peach blouse and cream trousers, and headed to my father's company. It was supposed to be a fresh start. Something to keep me from spiraling.

But as I sat behind my desk, looking over files and sitting in on meetings, the buzzing anxiety never left me. Every smile from a colleague felt forced, every kind word twisted into pity in my mind. Maybe they were all wondering when the heiress of the mighty Riversons would finally bear a child. Maybe the whispers were real.

By late afternoon, I was emotionally drained. I didn't say goodbye to anyone when I left. I just wanted to be home. As soon as I stepped into the house, I took off my heels and dropped my handbag on the side table. Mark was already home, sitting in the living room with a book in hand. He looked up the moment I walked in.

"There she is," he smiled. "How was work?"

I froze mid-step, my heartbeat thumping like a warning drum in my chest. Something snapped. I didn't even understand why.

"Oh, so now you care about my day?" I fired.

Mark blinked, confused. "Aurora, I was just asking— "You never ask how I feel when I'm curled up in the bathroom crying, or when I lie awake next to you unable to sleep. But today, suddenly you care because I stepped out of the house?"

His brows furrowed. "Sweetheart, that's not fair— "What's not fair is you walking around like everything is okay!" I yelled. "Like this house isn't suffocating me. Like I'm not dying inside every time someone asks when we're having a baby. Do you know how humiliating it is? To be me and feel this empty?"

He stood, calm but firm. "Aurora, I understand that you're struggling but you can't keep taking this out on me. "Oh, so now I'm the problem again?" I scoffed, tears threatening to fall. "Maybe I should just stop talking altogether so I don't keep ruining your perfect day."

"Aurora—" he stepped closer.

"Don't!" I warned, holding up a hand and stepping back. "Just… don't." Mark sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what else to do to reach you."

"Maybe you shouldn't try. Maybe you should just leave," I muttered, heading upstairs and slamming the door behind me. Behind the closed door, I finally let the tears fall. I hated this version of me. But I couldn't stop it either. I didn't know how.

Mark's heart thudded, his patience slipping. He clenched his fists, holding back the wave of emotion threatening to rise. She doesn't mean this, he reminded himself. She's hurting.