She had snapped. "Like hell! What do you mean, Daniel? I am your wife! Your wife!" She had been shocked to her bones.
This was not the man she fell in love with.
He had scoffed and told her, and replied, "Then know your place, wife! I do not expect you to understand that since"….he had paused, then continued. "I am from a traditional family, and women should know their place. You are my wife, is that not enough?!" He had gone on another trip and returned a week later, while she was in the tea room. He sat beside her, sighed, and made some excuse for his behavior.
She believed him, loved him even more, but he had missed their anniversary, as well as her birthdays. He had suddenly cut off her monthly funds; anything she wanted had to be routed to Julian.
She had been so shocked at the dynamic of things, it wasn't even about the money; she barely touched the ones he had given her all those times. It was the caginess, the invisible iron cages she had allowed him and his mother to reign in around her.
What had she not done? She had even learnt his language and culture, but just as she took her baby steps in communicating, he had laughed and told her it wasn't necessary back then. His mum had scoffed at her disdainfully, telling her she was like a kettle trying to become a pot. Whatever that meant, it stung.
To make matters worse, the tutor she had hired was never to visit the manor for the lessons.
Luckily for her, she had the internet, and so far, they hadn't restricted her from going home to visit her parents.
She thought about home, her dad and mom; they were the average American parents, who had nurtured her in love and believed in her dreams. Dreams she had abandoned because she fell in love. They had supported her always, and her dad would always ask if she was happy.
It's been a long time since she was happy.
The couple in the café had stepped out and walked towards Daniel's car, which she hadn't noticed was packed some steps away.
Natalie waited, looking at Daniel, her breath held so tight, hoping he would see her, and he did. Stopping momentarily in his steps, his face an unreadable mask, he walked the lady to the passenger's side of the vehicle, opening the doors like a perfect gentleman.
He brought out his phone in an attempt to do something with it while he walked over to the driver's seat and drove off.
Natalie stood in shock. What was she to him now? Could the past five years be a very bad dream? Why did she love him so much?
Then her phone buzzed. It was a two-word message.
Go home.
Just that.
She looked again in the direction Daniel's vehicle had driven, and something snapped inside her.
Go home?
She rushed to her vehicle, hopped in and started the car, and then chased.
How could he do this to her? If he didn't love her anymore, all he could do was just say it. Maybe coming to his city made it pretty clear that what they had in NYC was a dream.
He was her first man, her first in almost everything. She had paused her dream of being a surgeon. Her working as a paramedic then was her way of saving up for her tuition while she studied earnestly.
She had believed he loved her, let herself go for him, changed her urban style for his mother's so-called traditional wife guide, thinking it was what he wanted and the best way to get closer.
She had slaved in her own matrimonial home, gotten disrespected by his mother, gotten cheated on countless times by him, and gotten brushed off by him. If he hadn't been generous to her in the first two years of her marriage, she would have been penniless, too.
She finally saw Daniel's car; he was pulling up to the front of a luxurious five-star hotel. She wasn't thinking. Her mind was clouded with rage and raw pain, her eyes clouded with her tears, and she slammed into his car with a force startling everyone. But she didn't care; she was high on adrenaline with some spice of a lover's rage.
She immediately jumped out of her car and swung the driver's side door open, stretched in to grab him out while she hurled profanities at him. Daniel was 6 feet, while she was 5 feet 6. She honestly had no thought for what she was doing; all she knew was that she was mad as hell!
He stepped out while she held his shirt, hitting and hitting him, while hurling profanities.
Her rage began to subside while her tears sounded broken. "You man whore- man whore- I hate you, I hate you----after everything. I loved you. How could you do this to me, to us?" Then she looked up, and her face turned pale.
She had held the wrong man.
Dang! It wasn't Daniel.
She knew every top elite in Daniel's world, despite having been away from the social buzz for three years, but she didn't know this man.
He had striking grey eyes with a gaze so deep, she visibly shuddered. His face was as though it had been molded by the gods of beauty themselves. He looked heavenly, and she could count how many people she could describe as heavenly.
She was about to apologize when she saw a flash of light behind her and felt the paparazzi around.
She panicked. Oh God! She was screwed BIG time! How could she explain this mess? She could imagine her reputation in the headlines, and her mother-in-law, what would she say about her this time? In a swift moment, she heard him speak. "You have some explaining to do, woman".
He swiftly carried her while she buried her face in his clothes to shield her face.
The man spoke quickly to someone, giving some orders while he walked into the hotel. This moment he strode in with her in his arms seemed like forever. She knew they were in the elevator because of the dinging sound. Then she finally summoned the courage to look around her and sighed silently, seeing no one.
The elevator opened into a penthouse suite, and she braced herself for him to drop her, which he did as though he had sensed her thoughts.
Her mind reeled at the mistake she had just made. And who was this man?