Kazia
I stare down at the printed paper my stepmother-in-law has just handed me. It contains the rules I must follow in the house and my duties as a wife. No one informed me that I was auditioning for the role of housemaid rather than a wife.
After spending months intensively learning sign language, I'm now also required to take cooking classes from the family chef. Apparently, I will be in charge of cooking and running errands for the family. Does my father know this is what his beloved daughter will be doing in her husband's home? If he does, did he really allow it? I have so many questions, but there's no one to answer them. I can't leave, even if I want to—this marriage alliance is for my father's business growth.
"If there's anything you do not understand, feel free to ask," the butler said. I do have questions, but can he provide answers?
"Well, I do have a question..." I said to him.
"Has your household fallen on hard times, that you had to dump the responsibilities of a housekeeper on your wife?" His expressionless face changes to an amused one as soon as he hears my question. I don't know what part of it amuses him.
"This is an order from the madam," he replied.
"I assume your madam and her daughters also work in the house, and I won't be the only one doing this?"
"Your stepmother has given me prior warnings about you—a rude and mannerless girl indeed. Don't worry, I know just how to deal with you."
I heard an elderly female voice behind me—it was my stepmother-in-law, the infamous Mrs. Armani. I guess she's not as kind as the media portrayed her. What did I expect? Anyone who's friends with my stepmother could never be kind.
"Such an ungrateful child.
Ungrateful child? What exactly has she done for me to be grateful for? I am so angry right now. All I need is to contact my father; I'm sure he wouldn't want me to be where I don't want to be. To hell with this marriage—I'm leaving.
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It's been two weeks since I moved into the Armani mansion, and I haven't set eyes on my husband; the last time I saw him was on our wedding day. I initially planned to leave, but I haven't been able to access my bank accounts, so I have no money to move out. It dawned on me that I was stuck in this marriage when I couldn't contact my father or his P.A. I don't know if I've been abandoned by my father but I'll have to accept my fate for the time being, at least until I figure out what to do.
The alarm on my nightstand rang, reminding me that it was four in the morning and I had to get to work—house chores, actually. I slammed it shut angrily before it could ring for another minute. I haven't slept well since I arrived; it's been chores from morning till night. How long will I continue to live like this?
I put on my work clothes and headed to the second floor, where I was assigned to work for the rest of the week.
Even though only ten bedrooms are used in the house, we're required to clean all 63 bedrooms every day. Mrs. Armani is a clean freak and won't tolerate any dirt.
By the time I got to the nineteenth room, I was exhausted. I still had two more to go, but I was already worn out, and it was nearly noon. I hadn't eaten breakfast and was afraid I might pass out from exhaustion if I continued. But I can't go back downstairs; I won't get food until I'm done with my work.
Opening the door in front of me, I was welcomed by the sweet aroma of coffee and a freshly cooked meal. My eyes quickly scanned the room, looking for any sign of a person, and there he was—my husband, whom I hadn't seen since our wedding day. My gaze caught on his chiseled, bare chest; he was wearing only a pair of joggers.
"How can I help you?" he signed, looking at me with a furrowed brow. How can he help me? Is he seriously kidding right now?
"Your wife is being treated like a slave, but here you are enjoying a nice breakfast," I said out loud in anger. I hoped he could read lips because I wanted him to get the message without me having to sign it.
"My wife?" he signed with a questioning gaze. He can read lips after all. What kind of irresponsible man doesn't recognize his wife?
He pointed towards the wall in his room, where 'Aidan' was boldly written, then pointed back to himself. "What's your name?" he signed. "Your wife!" I signed back. He mused at my reply. He closed the door behind me and led me to sit by his kitchen island. This room is different from the others I've seen in this house; it's like an apartment of its own, with a kitchen, small dining area, and living area. This must be why I haven't seen him since our wedding—he's totally secluded from the rest of the world.
He put a plate in front of me, serving two scoops of scrambled eggs, four slices of bread, two strips of bacon, and a cup of hot chocolate. My mouth watered as the aroma filled my nostrils, and my stomach grumbled at the sight of the food. "Thank you," I signed, and he nodded. Maybe he's not as bad as I assumed, though I won't forget how he ignored me for over two weeks. He didn't even remember my name!
I couldn't stop stealing glances at him every now and then during breakfast. He's drop-dead gorgeous. "My children will never have to worry about being ugly if I procreate with him," I had said out loud before I realized my thoughts had slipped out. Thankfully, he won't hear—unless he reads my lips. I can talk freely; he won't hear me anyway.
"It's sad you'll never hear me call your name. You have no idea how beautiful I could make it sound."
"Aidan," I called seductively, waiting to see if he'd hear me. He didn't respond as his gaze was solely focused on his food.
"Aidan," I called again, this time more seductively. I saw his body tense before going completely still. All this happened in seconds, but I caught it. Did he hear me? Can he hear?
"Aidan?" I called in a normal voice, but he didn't respond. I tapped the table to get his attention. "Are you alright?" I signed. "Yes, I am, though a bit cold," he signed. I sighed in relief—he hadn't heard me after all.
I bid him goodbye as soon as I finished eating, and just like that, the hatred I had felt for him over the past two weeks dissipated. All it took was his beauty and a nice breakfast.