Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You-Chapter 68: Her Fear

Matthew

I keep pacing back and forth in the living room.

I can’t believe she hung up on me!

Where the hell is she?

"Matthew, are you alright, son?" Marishka asks.

I stop pacing and look at her. "Err...yeah. Did you talk to Sarah? Is she coming home soon?"

Marishka raises her eyebrow. "She just told me she will not be home for dinner. Why, is there something wrong?"

I run a hand through my hair, my jaw tightening. "No, nothing’s wrong. I just...I don’t know. I expected her to be home by now."

Marishka gives me a long look, the kind that sees right through me. "You miss her," she says simply.

I scoff, turning away. "It’s not that. She’s out with Rebecca, and she didn’t even think to check the time. I just—"

"You miss her," she repeats, a small smile on her face. "It’s okay to miss your wife, Matthew. Especially your new wife."

I let out a frustrated sigh and slump onto the edge of the couch. There was no point in arguing with Marishka. She wouldn’t understand. "She hung up on me," I mutter. freēwēbnovel.com

Marishka arches a brow as she steps closer. "And did you give her a reason to?"

I look up at her, caught. "I might’ve... raised my voice a little. But she was out for hours, and she didn’t even say when she’d be back."

Marishka smiled kindly. "She will be home soon. Don’t worry, sweetheart."

I nod. "Can I ask you something?"

Marishka sits down on a couch in front of me. "Sure," she says, urging me to continue.

"Did something bad happen to Sarah when she was little? Something that would make her terrified of dark places?"

Marishka frowns. "Did Sarah tell you to ask me this?"

I shake my head slowly, watching her reaction carefully. "No. She didn’t. But, I saw...um...signs that she is afraid of the dark. And I heard her talk in her sleep."

Marishka’s expression darkens. "It’s not my story to tell, Matthew."

"Sarah told me she doesn’t remember," I say.

"And it’s for the best that she doesn’t," Marishka says.

I lean forward, my elbows resting on my knees, heart beating a little faster. "But she does remember, doesn’t she? Maybe not everything, but enough to wake up gasping, drenched in sweat. Enough to freeze when the lights go out."

Marishka exhales slowly, like she’s holding back years of pain. "Some memories don’t come back in pieces—they come back in feelings. In fear. In silence. And for Sarah...that silence is safer than the truth."

I want to know what happened, but I also know that Marishka won’t tell me. She is determined to keep the secret.

"Anyway, I am calling it a night. Getting too old to be staying up late," Marishka says and yawns.

I nod absently, watching her stand and walk toward the stairs, her soft footsteps barely making a sound on the hardwood. "Goodnight, Matthew," she says gently, pausing on the first step. "Try to be patient with her."

"Yeah," I reply.

Once she disappears upstairs, the silence grows heavier around me. I lean back into the couch, the ticking of the clock on the wall suddenly sounding way too loud.

What happened to her?

I pull my phone out and stare at the screen.

Still no messages.

Still no call.

Still no Sarah.

I debate texting her again, but stop myself.

Maybe her father knows something. If Marishka won’t talk, maybe he will. I make a mental note to have a meeting with him.

I hear the front door opening and jump up.

Finally.

I rush toward the door, nearly tripping over the corner of the rug as I skid into the entryway.

And there she is—Sarah. Her coat is half off her shoulders, her eyes wide with surprise as she steps inside and sees me standing there, clearly startled by my urgency.

"Matthew?" she says.

I don’t speak right away. I just look at her. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, and she looks tired.

"You are late," I say sharply.

Sarah frowns slightly, pulling her coat off fully now. "Matthew, not now. I am tired."

My jaw tightens again. "How dare you hang up on me?"

Her eyes widen a little, but she quickly looks away, setting her bag down by the door. "I didn’t want to argue," she says quietly.

"So you hang up instead?" I snap.

She turns back around slowly. "Why are you yelling at me?"

"I am not yelling at you!" I shout.

Sarah blinks. "How can you tell me you aren’t yelling at me while yelling?" she asks, shaking her head.

The irony isn’t lost on me, either.

"I don’t need to report my every movement to you, Matthew," she says, her voice tired but firm. "Can I please go to the bedroom now? I desperately need to lie down."

I huff and get out of the way.

She walks past me without another word, so I follow her.

"And what exactly were you two doing for over three hours?" I ask, shutting the bedroom door behind me.

She starts to peel off her clothes without looking at me. "We had dinner, and we went to the store to look at paint swatches."

I arch an eyebrow. "Paint swatches?"

She shrugs, heading to the bathroom. "Yeah, to paint the nursery."

I freeze. It’s as if I temporarily forgot about her being pregnant because hearing the word nursery made my heart stutter.

"Nursery?" I echo.

Sarah pauses at the bathroom doorway, one hand on the frame. "Yes, Matthew. Nursery. For our baby."

I swallow hard. "I see."

"You are more than welcome to help me decorate. It’s your baby too, as much as it is mine, whether you want to admit it or not," she says, disappearing into the bathroom.

I stand still for a moment before striding in myself. For a reason I can’t explain, I enjoy bantering with her.

Sarah doesn’t look up as I enter.

"So you and Rebecca spent hours discussing paint colors? That’s what was so important?" I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed.

She sighs, meeting my eyes before entering the shower. "Yes, Matthew. And baby furniture. And whether we should do a theme or keep it neutral." Her voice softens slightly. "These are decisions we should be making together, but you...you want no part in this. You said so yourself."

I feel a stab of something. Guilt, maybe, but push it down. "Yeah. I don’t. But..."

"I’m tired, Matthew. I don’t have the energy to be your punching bag tonight," she says, turning the water on and standing under the stream.

I watch for a few seconds before taking my clothes off and then quietly hopping inside the shower with her.

Sarah makes a groaning sound as if she is annoyed by it and I can’t help but smile.

Good thing her back is turned to me and she didn’t see me grinning.