Chapter 2 - The Perfect Husband Returns
The hospital room door creaked open,
slowly,
deliberately.
I didn't need to turn my head,
I knew his scent immediately.
Sandalwood,
mint,
and the faint metallic smell of his absolute arrogance.
Daniel stepped into the room,
carrying a massive bouquet of white lilies.
Funeral flowers,
I thought bitterly,
staring at the pale petals.
He placed them gently on the table,
arranging them with the same careful precision he used to wipe the oil off his shoe.
He pulled a chair close to my bed,
sitting down with a heavy,
theatrical sigh.
"Elena,"
he whispered,
reaching out to stroke my hair.
I forced myself not to flinch,
forcing my muscles to remain relaxed under his touch.
His fingers felt like spiders crawling across my scalp.
"You scared me to death,"
he lied,
his eyes wide,
swimming with fake tears.
"When I saw you on that floor,
I didn't know what to do."
You wiped your shoe,
I screamed inside my mind.
"I'm sorry,"
I said aloud,
making my voice tremble,
playing the part of the pathetic wife he expected.
"I was so clumsy,
just like your mother said."
Daniel smiled,
a slow,
comforting smile that didn't reach his cold eyes.
"It's okay, darling,"
he murmured,
leaning closer.
"We all know you get easily overwhelmed.
My mother is just worried about you,
we both are."
He squeezed my hand,
and I noticed the slight pressure,
a silent warning disguised as affection.
"The doctor asked me some strange questions,"
Daniel continued,
his tone casual,
but his grip on my hand tightened.
"He seemed to think the burn patterns were odd.
I had to explain your anxiety to him,
how you panic when you drop things."
He paused,
waiting for my reaction.
This was a test,
a cruel interrogation hidden behind a husband's concern.
"I told him I slipped,"
I answered,
keeping my gaze fixed on the white blanket.
"I told him the floor was wet,
and I pulled the pot down."
Daniel relaxed,
the tension leaving his shoulders.
He let go of my hand,
patting it softly.
"Good,"
he said,
his voice returning to its smooth,
measured rhythm.
"That's exactly what happened.
Memory can be so tricky after a trauma,
especially for someone with your emotional struggles."
He reached into his tailored suit pocket,
pulling out his sleek phone.
"I'm handling all the medical bills,
of course,"
he stated,
not looking at me.
"And I transferred the rest of your personal savings into our joint account,
just to make it easier to pay for your recovery."
My blood ran cold.
He wasn't just managing the bills,
he was draining my resources,
making sure I had no money to run away.
Cages work better when they are built slowly,
one bar at a time,
and Daniel had just locked the final gate.
"Thank you,"
I whispered,
swallowing the bile rising in my throat.
"You always take such good care of me."
He smirked,
a fleeting expression of pure triumph.
"Rest now, my love,"
he whispered,
kissing my forehead.
As he walked out of the room,
I stared at the white lilies,
May you like
promising myself that when this was over,
I would be the one bringing flowers to his grave.
