Hard to speak of happiness

I’d been married to Henry Harrison for eight years.

He’d brought ninety-nine women home during that time.

I stared at number one hundred, a young, pretty girl, standing in my living room.

She looked at me defiantly, then turned to Henry.

“Honey, is this your useless wife everyone talks about?”

Henry leaned back in his chair, a lazy “Yep” escaping his lips.

The girl sauntered over and patted my cheek, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Tonight, you’ll learn what a real woman sounds like.”

That night, I was forced to listen to their moans echoing through the house.

The next morning, Henry, as usual, told me to make breakfast.

I refused.

He seemed to have forgotten our marriage was a business arrangement.

And today was three days before the contract ended.

Henry looked surprised by my refusal.

It was the first time in eight years I’d denied him anything.

He sized me up, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Mia Williams, did last night fry your brain or something?”

I stayed silent, my gaze unwavering.

After a moment, my stare seemed to unnerve him.

He waved a dismissive hand.

“Fine, don’t make it. Stop staring, it’s creepy.”

He called the housekeeper to prepare breakfast.

Yesterday’s girl sashayed towards me, a triumphant grin on her face.

“So, how was the show last night? Exciting?”

Before she could continue, Henry pulled her back.

“Don’t be rude. Go get ready for breakfast.”

She just raised an eyebrow at me, her eyes brimming with smugness.

At the breakfast table, Henry and the girl were all over each other.

I kept my head down, my mind racing, planning my escape.

Suddenly, I felt a tap on my arm.

I looked up to see Henry standing there, a frown etched on his face.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

I hesitated for a second before answering honestly.

“I’m thinking about what to do next.”

Henry scoffed.

“What can you do? Besides cleaning and cooking, you’re useless.”

His words, dripping with disdain, didn’t even sting anymore.

I’d become immune to his insults over the years.

For eight years, I’d revolved my life around him, neglecting my own dreams and aspirations.

I’d almost forgotten who I used to be.

Eight years ago, my mother was critically ill, and I desperately needed money.

Henry appeared like a knight in shining, albeit slightly tarnished, armor.

He offered me five hundred thousand dollars.

The price? Marrying him, becoming his beard for the Harrison family.

For my mother, I agreed.

For eight years, I’d watched him parade a string of women through our home.

Once, drunk, he’d looked at me with unusual seriousness.

“Mia, we’re from different worlds. Don’t get any ideas.”

I used to think he was incapable of love.

Then, last year, I learned about his deceased first love, Jennifer.

Yesterday’s girl bore a striking resemblance to Jennifer.

So, seeing them together at breakfast didn’t surprise me.

It just solidified my resolve to leave.

Henry snapped his fingers in front of my face, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I said, what are you thinking about?”

I blinked, refocusing on him.

“I’m thinking about getting a job,” I said calmly.

He snorted.

“You? Maybe you could clean toilets at Harrison Corp. You’re not even as good as Molly, fresh out of college.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but just then, Molly emerged from the bedroom.

“Henry, honey, how do I look in this?”

She was wearing one of the dresses Henry bought every year in memory of Jennifer.

The last time I’d touched it while cleaning, he’d slapped me.

Now, he gazed at Molly with undisguised admiration.

“Beautiful, baby. You can wear whatever you want underneath.”

Molly preened, then turned to me with a smug smile.

“Mia, do you think it looks good on me?”

I nodded sincerely.

“Yes, it suits you.”

My genuine response seemed to throw her off.

Before she could recover, I turned and headed back to my room.

Three more days, and I would be free. Time to pack.

2.

I hadn’t been in bed long when my phone rang. It was Henry.

“Molly needs a ride back to school. Take her.”

I frowned. “Don’t we have a driver?”

His voice sharpened with irritation. “Is it that hard to do something I ask?”

Before he could explode, I agreed.

“That’s better,” he said, satisfaction dripping from his voice.

When I got outside, Henry and Molly were waiting in the driveway.

“Hurry up! Molly has an exam. Don’t waste her time.”

Molly chirped, “Thanks, Mia.”

As Molly and Henry said goodbye, they shared a passionate kiss right there in the driveway.

Once in the car, Molly turned to me, a smirk on her face.

“Sorry, Mia, Henry gets a little carried away. Does he ever get like that with you?”

I didn’t answer.

“A man like Henry would never be interested in you,” she continued, her voice dripping with venom.

“You’re old and boring.”

Perhaps bored by my lack of response, she finally quieted down.

As we neared the school, a car suddenly swerved into our lane.

I reacted instantly, wrenching the steering wheel.

Despite my efforts, the impact was unavoidable.

The car spun, coming to a jarring stop. I felt a searing pain in my leg.

Molly’s whimpers filled the air.

I looked back at her, seeing only a small cut on her hand.

I assumed she had internal injuries.

Paramedics arrived quickly.

My left leg was broken.

Molly had a minor scratch on her arm.

As the doctor bandaged her up, Henry arrived.

He rushed to Molly’s side, his voice full of concern.

“Baby, are you okay?”

Molly whined about her hand.

Henry immediately ordered the driver to take her to the hospital for a full checkup.

He passed me twice, his eyes never meeting mine.

I smiled a bitter, silent smile.

The physical pain was nothing compared to the ache in my heart.

At the hospital, I overheard nurses gossiping.

“Henry Harrison is so good to his girlfriend. Just a little scratch, and he’s calling in every specialist in the hospital.”

“So attentive, and rich! Marrying a man like that would be a dream.”

Silently, I thought, “Marrying Henry Harrison is a nightmare.”

As they wheeled me into surgery, I saw Henry and Molly approaching.

“How are you?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

“You should pay more attention when you’re driving. Luckily, Molly’s fine.”

Molly sniffled beside him. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have asked Mia to take me.”

Henry pulled her close, murmuring soothing words.

“It’s not your fault, baby. You’re hurt too. Come on, let’s get you some dinner.”

The doctor informed me that the surgery was ready.

Henry glanced at me, surprised, but Molly’s whimper quickly redirected his attention.

The surgery went smoothly.

The nurse asked if I wanted to contact my family.

I paused.

“No, I don’t have any family.”

3.

During my hospital stay, I hired a nurse.

Henry and Molly were gallivanting around town, Molly sending me pictures of their adventures.

Beach trips, snorkeling, romantic dinners.

Kissing in every photo.

I felt nothing.

I was busy planning a biotech startup with my friend, Carla Jennings.

For the past eight years, I’d been helping her with product development in my spare time.

She’d been urging me to start a business with her, but I’d always refused.

My friends said I’d wasted eight years on a sham marriage.

But I had no regrets.

Back then, nothing mattered more than my mother.

Now, my contract with Henry was over. I was free.

The day I was discharged, Henry called.

“When are you coming home? The house is a mess.”

“Still in the hospital?”

I chuckled dryly.

“Don’t the maids do anything anymore?”

He sounded exasperated.

“You know I don’t like anyone touching my things. And I need you to organize some files from work.”

I glanced at the time, about to tell him I was busy, when the nurse called me to settle my bill.

Henry overheard and urged me to hurry home.

I ignored him, paid my bill, and hopped into Carla’s car.

“Free at last?” Carla asked, grinning.

I smiled, a genuine smile this time.

“It’s over. I’m filing for divorce as soon as I can.”

Carla was even more excited than I was.

“Let’s go sign that contract, then celebrate with hot pot!”

I nodded enthusiastically.

As we discussed the contract details, Henry called again.

I glanced at the screen, then flipped my phone over, letting Carla continue.

She raised an eyebrow. “Really over him, huh?”

Carla was the only one who knew I’d once harbored feelings for Henry.

But those feelings had long since evaporated, eroded by his constant cruelty.

I stared at my phone, a strange calmness washing over me.

“Some people are just from different worlds.”

Carla nodded in agreement.

After signing the contract, we went to our favorite hot pot restaurant.

As I took the first bite of spicy beef, tears welled up in my eyes.

Carla laughed, asking if it was that good.

I just smiled.

Since being with Henry, I hadn’t touched anything with a strong smell.

He’d claimed it was unfitting for a Harrison.

There were a lot of things deemed “unfitting.”

Laughing too loud in public, speaking my mind…

For eight years, I’d been an emotionless robot.

Now, I could taste freedom, and it felt bittersweet.

I got home around ten. Henry was waiting in the living room, his face like a thundercloud.

He’d called a dozen times.

“Where were you?”

I took off my shoes, washed my hands, and replied calmly, “Dinner with a friend.”

He stepped closer, his face twisting in disgust.

“Hot pot again? It reeks.”

I smiled. “Molly eats it. Does she reek?”

His expression darkened.

“You’re not Molly. She’s not a Harrison.”

I didn’t reply.

Not yet, anyway.

It was obvious how much Molly meant to him.

4.

The next day, Carla flew overseas to set up our new office.

I contacted a lawyer to draft divorce papers.

Staring at the words “no alimony,” I signed my name.

Just then, Molly sent me a video.

It showed a lavishly decorated hotel ballroom.

A banner on stage read, “Welcome to the Engagement Party of Henry Harrison and Molly Davis.”

Henry was talking to the hotel manager.

“I just mentioned wanting to get engaged, and he throws this huge party. He’s so romantic!”

“The party’s in two days. You should come!”

Two days. My thirtieth birthday. The day I was flying out.

I blocked Molly’s number.

I looked around my tiny, ten-by-ten bedroom.

Time to pack.

I’d accumulated nothing in eight years.

I’d arrived with one suitcase.

I was leaving with one suitcase.

As I zipped it closed, Henry walked in.

“Make me some seafood porridge.”

His tone was as entitled as ever.

One last time, I thought.

I made the porridge.

As I set it down, he looked at me curiously.

“Why have you been so quiet lately?”

I used to chatter endlessly, even though he rarely responded.

“Sore throat,” I mumbled.

He tsked, grabbed the porridge, and left.

He didn’t return until the day of his engagement party.

I placed the eight-year-old marriage contract, along with the divorce papers, on the table.

I grabbed my suitcase, took one last look at the house, and left.

Just before boarding the plane, Henry called.

I declined the call and threw my SIM card in the trash.

From this moment on, I was running towards my own future.