Say you got into the typical wealthy family adult plan. The one where your parents would set you up in consecutive blind dates with other wealthy kids.
Say you hit the jackpot when you completed an instant engagement with a HOT guy. Said guy got the perfect face, perfect body, very smart and charming. Not to mention, marrying him would help both family's business grow.
He's the textbook example of a perfect match for a wealthy gal like yourself.
You both got along fine. You both had similarities and difference in both habits and thinking, but it's fine. Because you aren't perfect :) .
So a 15 minute conversation with your fiancé is no problem. Physical contact? Also no problem. Apparently you fit his "type" and vice versa.
Fast forward six months later with little get-to-know-each-other-dates spread in between and you have a luxurious wedding. Everybody, and I mean every single soul in the city you live in know you are both married to each other.
On that very night, you did your spousely responsibility.
It hurt, admittedly, it took some "work" to fit it in and slowly work up to feeling good. And not to mention, he ended pretty fast the first time.
His face turned red in embarrassment and he wouldn't look you in the eye, only pursing his lips muttering that he'd work a little harder.
That was the first time, under the dim lighting that you thought he was pretty "cute".
But yeah, the sex was pretty much A-okay after that first one.
So, every now and then, when one of you felt in the mood, you'd play a little game to seduce the other. It was cute, like a little thing you shared with only each other.
Within four months, you got pregnant.
During this time, he'd stay by your side, drive off to buy whatever you were craving. His earnest happy eyes always fell upon your belly. He'd put his hands on it, rubbing it slightly with his thumbs and smile saying the baby is getting bigger, as if he measure your growing belly everyday.
You gave birth alone, because he got called away on an urgent business trip. But it was okay, you didn't feel sad as you held your baby boy.
He apologized on his knees. He kissed your fingertips one by one, saying he'd never missed the next one.
But you never got pregnant again.
He would come home tired, you would be tired because you stayed home to watch your child.
You cooked, cleaned, and did all the chores around the house, and you felt happy. A sense of achievement because this is your home now and it was your responsibility.
It took two years for you to realize that your relationship with your husband was becoming stale. As in, he no longer was as soft as he was before. He never paid attention to you as closely as he did in the past.
It was like he got tired of you.
But even so you tried to make it work, because you had a child.
Ten years later, all your hard work on trying to keep this family from falling apart went down the drain.
Your husband wanted to divorce, your precious baby son wanted to stay with his dad.
You got into an argument with him and accidentally cut your hand. Mostly because the idiot told you when you were making dinner.
It hurt a lot and all he told you was to go disinfect it and bandage it.
It was then that you gave up. There's no point in continuing like this.
Because if he'd had cared, he wouldn't have been so nonchalant about you getting a cut on your hand.
Because you're a musician. You're the kind that lives and plays with your hands.
So you signed the damn papers, went through the official process of divorcing and then you vented by tossing your wedding ring at your ex husband.
The very same wedding ring you guys took 3 hours to pick out.
You packed up all your stuff moved it into a villa under your own name and high tailed it out the country.
You needed a damn vacation.
So you're laying down on a nice comfortable sunning chair. You got a coconut drink with a straw and you're just chilling, enjoying the massage a hot guy is giving you.
And then your phone rings. It's your ex husband and he wants to "get back".
You tell him, "Hell to the fucking no."
He pleads, begs, says he can't live without you. He even made your son act cute saying, "Mommy I miss you."
But you don't fall for it. Because that man had been seeing some other girl behind your back for the last 3 years and he even took your son to meet up with her. So yeah, your son got comfortable calling someone else mom.
Seeing as nothing worked, he asked if you missed the times you had together, if you missed him.
You told him straight out, "No." and that "you were pretty good but you could be better. And I met better right now."
Then you hung up. And the guy giving you a massage wiggled his brows with a smile asking "Am I better?"
You answer, "Maybe" and told him to go higher.
Then you spent a couple of years fending off your ex, and while you did some nice things for your son you certainly weren't as close as you were in the past.
Oh and you got married to the guy who gave you a massage. His massages were the ones that won you over.
So you lived the rest of your life like this, with your Mr. Better.
Oh and your son grew up and sometimes he visits you but does it awkwardly. And you just watch him squirm with a smile on your face.
Yeah, it's been years, but you're still pretty damn petty.
The End.