Wishing for my husband´s child

Finally, I married Mr. Feldman. He held my hand, radiant with happiness, oblivious to the stares or comments he might be provoking among the attendees.

There was no celebration. He led me directly to the car, where Eder was already waiting for us. I got in first, followed by him, and he closed the door firmly.

"We're going to celebrate our wedding night, my dearest Amelie."

My nerves betrayed me. My hands trembled so much I felt they were going to detach from my wrists. I could still back out. Perhaps jail wouldn't be so terrible compared to what awaited me tonight.

But I thought of Danna and Hanna, my sisters, barely teenagers, and my mother, too old to work. They depended on the company... and on my sacrifice.

"Of... course," I replied, my voice shaky.

He looked out the window, smiling contentedly, while I was consumed inside. It wasn't his age that perturbed me. Everyone ages. It was the thought of his hands on my body, of being possessed by him... God, no!

Eder drove for over an hour until we reached a country estate on the outskirts of the city. Another opulent place, full of luxuries that contrasted with the despair engulfing me.

I got out of the car and took a deep breath, seeking some relief in the fresh air. Mr. Feldman walked slowly. This time he didn't hold my hand. He simply walked ahead, signaling the way for me.

"We are going to spend our wedding night here, my dearest wife. I am dying to conceive a son."

I walked quickly behind him, lifting the train of my dress to avoid tripping.

"Mr. Feldman, I need to be honest with you... I cannot consummate our wedding night. Please."

He turned with an even wider smile, as if my words were irrelevant to him.

"Why not? You are my wife. That's what we got married for."

I didn't want to sound cruel or indifferent. Simply, my principles, my preferences, everything in me refused the idea of sleeping with such an old man.

"It's not that I don't want to, sir... it's just that... I'm on my period," I lied, lowering my gaze.

"I have no problem with that, my dearest wife. Come, let's go inside."

The door of the estate opened, and in the background, the living room sparkled with elegance. From an annex, a bubbling jacuzzi could be seen, a table with a bottle of champagne and two glasses ready to be served.

The atmosphere was warm, cozy, romantic... and for me, almost suffocating.

"The master bedroom is over there," he said, pointing to a wooden door at the end of the hallway. "You can change in there. What I want you to wear tonight is on the bed. Rest, take your time... and make yourself beautiful, wife."

I looked at him, perplexed, not knowing how to keep breathing.

"And you? Sir, what will you do?"

"Wait for you, darling," he smiled, showing his yellowish teeth. A shiver ran down my spine at the sight.

"Of course, Mr. Feldman," I nodded and turned to head for the room.

"Amelie," he called me.

"Yes, sir."

"You are a very beautiful woman. I know you will be a good wife. I'll see you at seven. Please, I want you to look sensual."

His insinuating tone provoked deep disgust in me.

"Of course, sir," I replied coldly before rushing to close the door behind me.

I fell, sitting down, leaning my back against the wood. I brought my knuckles to my mouth to stifle the sobs that overflowed, trembling with rage and pain.

My father was making me pay for my mistakes. Because yes, marrying Armando had been a monumental error.

I lifted my gaze toward the bed. On top, a tiny, provocative red lingerie. An outfit made to humiliate me. Disgusting old man! Did he really think I would wear that?

There was also essential oil soap and expensive perfumes. With fury, I threw everything onto the nightstand and collapsed into the sheets, crying inconsolably.

A buzzing in my purse made me react. The phone was vibrating. It was an unknown number.

"Hello," I answered out of inertia, trying to hide my broken voice.

"My love, why haven't you been answering me? I've been looking for you everywhere, darling."

"Armando?" My heart stopped for an instant. "What are you doing calling me?"

"I heard you married Rosalía's father. I know you, Amelie. I know you didn't do it for love, or for gain. We need to talk. I know I made a mistake, a huge one. I regret it, I want to be with you."

I let out a bitter, sarcastic laugh.

"And Rosalía?" I asked coldly.

"That woman is unbearable. She blames me because you married her father. She won't even make me a coffee."

"So, what you need is a maid? Pay for a service."

"No, my love, listen to me... I have plans for us."

Before he could continue talking, I hung up. I got up decisively, went to the bathroom, and got rid of the wedding dress. I stepped into the shower without looking back. I didn't know how long I spent under the water or how many hours I had been alone.

Finally, I put on the damn lingerie, painted my lips red, and sat down in silence, waiting, resigned to the cruel fate that awaited me.