The Last Mistress's Wife

I thought it was done out of love until the gender of the baby was revealed.

He was shaken, and then I conceived the second child as a girl.

“You…you want to cook? But Boss…” She goes off to say something, but I interrupt with a wave of hand.

“Don’t worry about his responses. This is what my instruction says.”

For I thought to myself, "It was time I stopped relying on Richard and started doing things I cherish."

She nods without questioning further. I can tell she wants to say more but thinks against it.

Then I go up the stairs en route to my bedroom on the second floor.

While I'm locked in, I pull down my dress and walk nakedly to the bathtub in the restroom, where I exfoliate my body with a gentle scrubber.

Stepping out of the bathtub with water dripping from my body, I head straight to the bedroom.

I open my wardrobe, reach out for an old red silk dress that hasn't been worn in years, and take two steps to stare at my reflection in the mirror close by.

The woman looking back at me feels like a stranger.

Eyes dull, shoulders drooped, and beauty faded under months of loneliness and regrets.

A tear drops from my eyes without restraint.

I slip the dress under my feet, wearing it to my satisfaction whilst looking down at the reflection of my lean figure. The same dress Richard hated with passion.

Leaving the room, a hint of a satisfactory smile tugs at my lips for the first time in years.

Downstairs, I begin cooking the meals meant for dinner. At this time, most of the ingredients were already arranged by the servants.

Martha moves swiftly as she hands me whatever I call for. When the time comes for the chopping of the vegetables, I do so effortlessly to the amazement of the watchers.

For a moment, everything goes peacefully, forgetting my current predicament and the nightmare that I face.

I don't think about anything else, just the stirring of the pot and the humming sound I make to myself.

Until some loud footsteps echo from the hallway and pause right at the entrance of the kitchen.

This action makes almost everyone turn in the direction. Except me.

“My Lady.” A guard greets, bowing slightly. “The Boss seeks your presence. He's in the living room.”

My spoon stills midway. My heartbeat increases a thousand times. Every hair in my body springs up.

Whenever Richard outrightly sends for me, things do not end well.

I wipe my hands on a dishtowel and follow the guard, careful to keep my face blank.

When I reach there, Richard is relaxed on a couch, blankly staring at the TV far away and tapping his lean fingers thoughtlessly.

Perhaps he heard me coming because he briefly turns aside, then back at the TV.

“I wanted to inform you not to wait up for me tonight.”

I blink, not understanding what he is speaking about. “What's going on tonight?”

Still not diverting his attention, he sighs tiredly. “I have long past falling for your schemes and filthy approaches, woman.”

“If you are dumb, you might as well get yourself admitted into a psychiatric hospital for proper treatment.”

My shoulders droop in defeat, and all I hear myself saying is, “Okay.”

He glances at me for a fleeting moment, sending that kind of gaze that is somewhere between indifference and deep loathing.

“I heard you're cooking. And whatever you cook shouldn't be given to anyone under this roof. Your incapability shouldn't be passed.”

My throat tightens. Not just from sadness but also as a feeling of utter disdain.

This is what I have gone through in my few years of marriage.

He grabs his keys, springing to his feet, and pushes me off the way till I stumble. He walks away without a second glance.

I should weep. I am supposed to cry, but no reaction comes from me.

All I do is stand there for a while, staring into space.

And as soon as the sound engine of his car is heard, a migraine comes in my head.

I grip my forehead, feeling everything slowly blur and move in circles.

I fall to the ground, grasping the side of my head as the pain intensifies.

My stomach starts churning, and nausea develops. I hold onto my head tight, hoping someone comes to my aid.

Just when darkness is about to kick in, I hear a frightened voice screaming my name.

“My Lady!” Martha appears right by my side, her fearful eyes immediately searching my face. “Are you okay?”

I smile, and I nod even though I'm far from it. “I am.”

She sighs, picks me up from the floor and checks my temperature with the back of her palm.

“I am no doctor, but it is certain you've developed a high fever. Let me inform the family's doctor.”

She moves to take the telephone by the side of the first couch, but I grasp her hand before she can do anything.

“Don't do that. It's all fine. It's just a small headache.” I say in dismissal.

She studies my face carefully, then exhales, moving closer, her old hands hovering over mine.

“Then you must take a good rest. Stop getting yourself worked up concerning this matter. Go to sleep.” She advises.

I force a smile, though it's weak, almost invisible. “It’s all right, Martha. I'll take a nap.”

She stares longingly at me, then taps my shoulder. “You don't deserve this kind of maltreatment. Whatever decision you make, you have my full support.”

Reaching the stairs, I take a sudden pause and look back at her wearied eyes.

Perhaps she thought the worst had happened to me.

“What day is it?”

“30th of July, ma'am.” She answers confusingly.

I nod. “What comes up at that time?”

She pauses, contemplating whether to tell me the truth or not. “The date was set aside for you and Boss to produce more babies. Particularly a male child.”

“Oh!” I say, wondering why I couldn't recall. “I'll go sleep now.”

Closing the door, I rest on it for a brief time. By the time I have laid on the bed, I have thought on what decision to make.

Something to heal the pain and stop it from recurring. Something to ease the sleepless nights and unstoppable silent tears.

I need a divorce.