Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You-Chapter 100: Not Welcome

Sarah

I wait for Matthew’s reaction, but he isn’t saying anything. "Matthew?" I ask.

"What did that bastard say to you?" Matthew’s voice is rough.

"He...he said he wants to meet me," I tell him.

Matthew’s jaw tightens. "He what?" he finally says, his voice a low growl.

"I said no, of course," I add quickly. "But Matthew, something else happened. He...he called me princess and I remembered something."

Matthew goes still. His eyes are locked on mine, searching my face, his own full of something between dread and disbelief.

"You... remembered?" he asks. "What did you remember?"

I nod, my throat suddenly dry. "Just a flash. But it felt real. He was there and he asked me to sit on his lap."

"That sick bastard," Matthew mutters.

"But I didn’t do it!" I quickly add. "I ran away from him. I always ran away. I think even as a six year old girl, I knew something was wrong about him. Like he was a bad man."

Matthew nods and wraps his arms around my waist. "Yes, Sarah. He is a bad man. And I have more proof of that."

I look at him with surprise. "What do you mean?"

Matthew hesitates. "I don’t know if we should discuss this. I don’t want you to be upset. I don’t want to put you and our baby at risk again."

I rest my hand gently over his as he holds my waist, trying to ground both of us in this moment. My heart races at his words, but I speak softly, calmly, "Matthew, I need to know. Whatever it is, please don’t keep it from me. I can handle the truth."

He studies me for a moment, conflict clear in his eyes. Then he sighs, rubbing his thumb over my side in slow, soothing circles.

"I can’t tell you everything right now. You have to trust me, Sarah. Trust me to make things better for you. But right now, you will have to let me keep this a secret," he says.

I pout. "But..."

He kisses me then. His lips press against mine, warm and firm, cutting off my protest. For a moment, the world goes quiet. The tension, the fear, the memories, all fading under the weight of that kiss. He’s not trying to distract me, not entirely. It’s more like he’s begging me to understand without words.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. His breath is shaky. "I need you to be safe, Sarah. That’s all I care about right now."

I search his eyes, trying to read the things he won’t say aloud. There’s pain there. Anger. But also a fierce, almost like love.

I don’t like being left in the dark, but I know I should trust him.

"You promise," I whisper, "You will tell me eventually?"

He nods slowly. "I promise."

A part of me still aches with curiosity and worry, but I let myself lean into his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him. His arms tighten around me.

"What about Rodrigo? He might call me again," I whisper.

"I will deal with him. Don’t worry," he says.

I look up. "Don’t do anything crazy," I say.

"I won’t," he says.

I’m not sure if I believe him.

Matthew strokes my back gently, his touch reassuring despite the storm raging behind his eyes. He’s saying the words he thinks I need to hear, but I think he is planning something.

"I mean it, Matthew," I say, pulling back just enough to look up at him. "Promise me you won’t go after him alone. No reckless plans."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. Then, with a sigh, he cups my face in his hands. "I promise I won’t do anything reckless," he says.

It’s not enough to satisfy me, but I nod anyway, knowing I can’t force him to do anything.

~-~

The next day, I am home alone as Matthew leaves for work and Marishka goes out of town to visit a relative.

"Are you sure you are going to be okay, Sarah?" she asked me, still hesitating to leave.

I gave her a bright smile. "Of course. You know you don’t have to be my nanny anymore, Marishka. I am all grown up."

Marishka had laughed. "Yes, you are, darling. And you are going to be a mother yourself. But you are not in good health, so maybe..."

"Please don’t worry. I will take it easy, I promise," I had said.

And now, I am lonely as the house is completely empty.

Well, except for our live-in maid, Millie.

I decide to go out in the garden again. It is going to be spring soon, so maybe it’s time for me to start planting more flowers. To make it mine, to shape it into something new and beautiful.

I imagine roses and marigolds, daisies and climbing vines, all opening under the sun. In the middle of it all, I see a small figure, laughing, playing. I stand out there, looking towards the bare patches of dirt and grass. I picture a little child running around the garden paths, chasing butterflies, hands covered in mud, cheeks flushed with joy.

I imagine my child running around and it makes me smile to myself. Maybe Matthew will agree to get a dog. I never had one growing up, but it would be so nice to have one that will grow with my baby.

"Hello, princess."

I freeze.

That voice. My body turns cold, unable to move as if the sound itself has paralyzed me. Slowly, I turn around.

Rodrigo is standing there, just inside the garden gate. He’s wearing an expensive suit, and his silver hair is perfectly styled. And his eyes...they are cold, calculating, like a predator’s.

"How did you get in here?" My voice comes out stronger than I feel, one hand instinctively moving to my stomach.

He smiles. "Your little maid let me in. You ought to teach her more about security and believing strangers."

My heart hammers against my ribs. I glance toward the house. My phone is inside on the kitchen counter.

"You need to leave. Now." I take a step backward, trying to maintain distance between us.

Rodrigo steps forward, matching my retreat. "Not before we talk. You’ve been avoiding me, Sarah. That’s not very nice." His accent thickens as he speaks, reminding me of fragments of memory, his voice in a dark room, telling me to be quiet.

"There’s nothing to talk about." I continue backing away, my eyes darting around for anything I could use as a weapon. "Matthew will be home any minute."

"We both know that’s not true." Rodrigo’s smile widens. "I’ve been watching. Your husband is at your company downtown. Won’t be back for hours."

"What do you want?" I demand, fighting to keep my voice steady.

"Just to talk about old times. About what you remember." He takes another step toward me. "About what you think you remember."