After all the miseries my family put me through, I thought it had finally paid off when I heard the news: I was going to marry Christian Grey. The man I had admired from the moment I understood what love truly meant. He was my first love, the first man I ever desired. The first to touch my soul and heart.
Coming from a family where trivial dignity stakes were the highest, from a young age I have been nervous-wrecked, overly anxious.
What if any of my actions tarnished our family's reputation? What if I destr0yed their expectations once more? No matter how hard I tried to meet their standards, it seemed that disappointment was always lurking over my shoulder.
They would never be filled, rather they would never be haughty, With the exception of my grandma shelly Duvall – a person who cared for me, as no one ever had before or will.
Grandma was my shelter, my peace. Although she did everything she could to protect me from the cruelty of my father and stepmother, most of the atcrocities were secreted away from her.
I was always scared of her old age, her illness, and more importantly, I did not want her to feel more culpable as she already appeared.
She already had so much weight on her – as a leader of our family.
It was her who once brought the idea of Christian, an old family friend and associate, as my husband.
When she came forth with the announcement of our engagement, I thought that I would never be in pain anymore, that I would be able to relax, to be happy, to trust this was the beginning of something nice.
But I was wrong.
That's when everything truly started to fall apart.
"How do you feel now that you've finally trapped me?" Those were the first words Christian spoke to me after our wedding. His voice was cold, distant—cutting through me like a blade.
The moment I heard those words, my hands began to tremble. My throat tightened as I struggled to respond, my voice barely above a whisper. "What do you mean?" I asked, though deep down, I already knew. I just prayed I was wrong.
Christian let out a bitter chuckle, his eyes hard as he straightened his shirt cuffs with deliberate indifference. "Don't play innocent, Andria." His voice was sharp, each word laced with disdain. "Congratulations, you pulled off your little scheme."
My chest tightened painfully as I fought back the tears threatening to spill.
"Why do you think of me that way?" I managed to ask, my voice fragile
He paused, turning to look at me with a raised eyebrow. There was no warmth in his gaze, only cold accusation. "Still acting, huh? You're so good at it." His words stung like poison, and before I could even respond, he turned on his heel and left the room.
That was our first night as husband and wife. The first conversation we ever had after the vows were exchanged. And just like that, he left me—alone, broken, and defeated—in a room that was meticulously crafted for perfection. Yet, in that moment, I felt like the only thing in the room that wasn't perfect was me.
It was a smothering silence; it overpowered me. This was a big, posh room with gleaming chandeliers and faultless decoration; it felt like a prison. I stood there amidst elegance, yet felt absolutely empty.
five years later, the memories still haunt me because why did i let a man treat me like shit.
the memories with christian, the moments we shared they are all just now buried underground i will never dig up to the surface.
how can i ever love someone like him, why did i loved him? the guilt is still eating me alive.
suddenly i notice a notification popped up into my mails. it's a text from Sam, one of my closest friends. for these past five years he has been the one taking care of me. i stand where i stand now because of him and Sarah. they both have done a lot for me
" you won't believe what i just saw " he said, i can sense the excitement in his text even from so far. it's the emojis he's using
A small smile tugs at my lips as I type back," what?" i reply while trying to dry my hair. Andria Duvall the multitasker as always.
he sent me a link as soon as i replied him and i hurried to see the context with out wasting a second.
"Andria Duvall, the most successful singer of the decade." it's the headline.
That's the headline staring back at me. Another one of those articles. I roll my eyes slightly and type back,
" another one of those articles? "
"Yes, but check the next page—you got nominated for this year's Grammy, too," Sam replies with uncontainable enthusiasm. "You might win it again!"
Sam, he never lags behind to support me " what if i don't win this year " i type back
" you def will" he said.
And that's Sam—never failing to believe in me when sometimes I struggle to believe in myself. He and Sarah have been the light in the dark, reminding me who I am and who I can become. And as I stare at the headline again, I realize something important: I'm no longer the woman who allowed herself to be treated like she was nothing. I am Andria Duvall—stronger, wiser, and finally in control of my own story.