Aria
I had been staring at my wedding photo for almost half an hour, trapped in the memories.
In that picture, I looked like a goddess's flawless body, radiant beauty, the kind of woman who turned every head in the room.
Back then, I was still Mr. Jones's daughter, the princess of a wealthy businessman. Back then, I was Damon's favorite woman.
How I missed those days.
But now… now I am no longer the goddess Aria. My husband had given me another name, Pig. And maybe, in his eyes, I deserved it.
I had grown fat, so fat that my waist had disappeared beneath the weight. My father, once a powerful businessman, had lost everything after marrying Tessa the same woman who used to be my best friend. Now the three of us were enemies.
I remembered my father's cruel warning, If Damon ever throws you out of his mansion, you'll end up on the streets. My wife won't let a pig like you live under the same roof with us.
His words meant only one thing: I was lucky Damon still kept me. I should worship him. Serve him like a slave.
And that's exactly what I had been doing for the past two years of my marriage ever since I lost my beauty and my father's fortune. Damon treated me like garbage.
For the first year, before everything collapsed, there was love, there was happiness. But those days were gone.
Now, Damon wouldn't even share a bed with me. He only touched me when he hit me. He looked at me like I was the most disgusting thing in the world. I had lost count of how many women he had slept with in our bed. And yet… I was still madly in love with him.
I yearned for his touch. I craved his embrace. So when I saw him come home alone, without a mistress trailing behind him, my heart raced.
For a moment, I wanted to throw myself into his arms. But fear stopped me.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he thundered, tasting the food I'd prepared.
"No—nothing…" I stammered.
He spat the food out. "Even your cooking is as bitter as you are. Aria, why are you so damn ugly? Just looking at you makes me want to vomit!"
He swept the dishes and pots off the table with a violent crash.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice trembling.
"I'm divorcing you! I can't stand living with a pig like you."
"Please, Damon!" I sank to my knees, tears soaking my hands as I begged him. "You know I have nowhere to go. Don't do this to me."
"Even your own father doesn't want you! How do you expect me to live with… this… disgrace?" His voice was thunder.
"I'll do anything, Damon! I'll serve you," I cried.
"What can you do, slut? You can't even satisfy me in bed."
His hands wrapped around my throat, squeezing hard until my vision blurred.
"You… never give me the chance," I gasped.
"With a body like this?" He released me with a shove. "Pathetic!"
"I'll—"
"Shut up, pig! Fine, I'll use you as my punching bag instead."
He kicked me, laughing like a madman. "Stop looking at me! Your eyes are terrifying."
Terrifying? Once, he used to say I had the most beautiful eyes in the world.
I dragged myself to bed, broken and burning inside. Sleep wouldn't come.
Late that night, I slipped out and wandered to the nearest bar, hoping alcohol might quiet my mind.
I drank and drank, but no matter how much I swallowed, I couldn't get drunk. I laughed like a lunatic, tears streaking down my face. People turned to stare. Some laughed with me; others laughed at me.
A couple kissed passionately nearby, and my laughter grew louder.
"You're too noisy. Can't you let us drink in peace?"
The voice was deep, commanding, and it sent goosebumps racing across my skin. I turned and almost choked on my drink.
He sat just a few stools away, yet his presence filled the entire room. Even seated, I could tell he was tall. His blue eyes gleamed under the dim light, sharp and intriguing. His lips looked so soft, so inviting, I wanted to taste them. His dark hair fell in a messy style that only made him more captivating. Beneath his slightly loose suit, I could see the outline of broad shoulders and strong arms.
I had never wanted a man this badly!
Maybe the alcohol was finally working, because before I knew it, I leaned closer and whispered, "Do you… want to sleep with me?"
It wasn't like me. Not at all. Two years without a man in bed had made me desperate, but never reckless. Especially not with someone like him! Someone too perfect for a woman like me.
He studied me like I was the strangest thing he had ever seen. Surely he was disgusted that I dared ask such a thing.
"Help me out… please," I groaned, pressing my palm against his chest.
His lips curled into a grin. "Sure. Let's do that."
"I'm serious, I—" But before I could finish, he grabbed my hand, led me outside, and pushed me into his car.