As we arrived at the mansion, Darian grabbed me by the arm and shoved me into our bedroom. The coldness of his touch sent a shiver down my spine.
"I'm sorry, honey. I'll never do it again, I promise," I said, my voice trembling, the fear of being trapped in this house pressing down on me like a suffocating weight.
He didn't answer. Instead, he walked to the window, locking it before taking the keys from the dresser. It was then that the awful realization hit me—he was going to lock me in this room.
"Wait! Please, don't! I'm begging you," I cried, my knees hitting the floor as I reached for him, my hands gripping his tightly. "I'll never leave again, I'll never talk to anyone other than you and Theo. Please, don't lock the door."
But he shoved me hard, and I stumbled backward, crashing to the floor. Without a word, he locked the door behind him.
I scrambled to my feet, my heart pounding in my chest. I banged on the door with all my strength.
"Please, someone open the door! Please!"
I repeated it, over and over, until my voice gave out and I collapsed to the floor, sobbing.
What happened to you, Darian? I thought. You used to be so sweet to me. You never treated me like this before. What happened?
I hate you, Darian Thornwell. I hate you.
I awoke on the cold floor, the sting of the tears still fresh on my cheeks. The rain was falling softly outside, a distant memory playing in my mind.
It was when I was 15—back then, I didn't even know why I was crying. But someone had been there for me. A boy. He handed me a single strand of white tulip, and with it, he whispered, "Don't cry, Tulip. I'm here."
I woke up with a start. It was strange to dream about that moment—strange to remember a time when everything felt different.
I heard footsteps, and then the unmistakable sound of the door unlocking. Darian stood in the doorway, a smile that didn't reach his eyes plastered on his face.
"Hey, honey," he said, his voice calm and warm, a complete contrast to the night before. "Come here." He opened his arms, gesturing for me to embrace him as if nothing had happened.
I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I was being drawn back into his web of control, but I stepped forward and allowed myself to be enveloped in his arms. I was scared—scared that if I didn't comply, things would only get worse.
"Happy 38th birthday, honey," he said, his voice softer now, as if trying to convince me things were fine. He pulled away and handed me a small gift, his fingers brushing against mine.
I forced a smile, but it felt hollow. "Yes, thank you," I said quickly, my mind elsewhere.
"Happy birthday, Mommy!" Theo's excited voice broke through, and I turned just in time to catch him running toward me.
I swept him up in my arms, holding him tight. "Thank you, sweetheart," I said, kissing his forehead. "But why aren't you at school?" I asked, noticing his uniform had changed.
He smiled innocently. "I just came here to change into a new school uniform."
Something didn't feel right. I frowned. "But isn't that your school uniform?"
He looked at me, his face full of confusion. "Mom, didn't Dad tell you? Nanny Clara took me to the hotel. She said we were going to play there because you and Daddy wouldn't be home. She said I should stay at the hotel so I wouldn't be lonely."
A lump formed in my throat. Darian had taken Theo to the hotel so he wouldn't hear my screams at night. My heart sank.
Darian stepped in, his voice cool. "Now, now, get ready for school, Theo. We'll be celebrating your mother's birthday when you come home. All right?" He walked over, pulling Theo away from me and planting a quick kiss on my lips.
As they left the room, I felt the weight of the situation settle in.
I started to wonder: What would happen if I left Darian? If I filed for a divorce, what would Theo think of me? Would he hate me for it? Would he choose his father over me? He was only 8 years old—no child should have to carry the burden of their parents' broken relationship.
But then, I thought about what Darian used to be like. What if he changed back to the boy I knew when we were 16? Maybe, just maybe, we could be a happy family again.
For now, though, I had to endure it. I would endure it for Theo.
Until Darian changed, I would keep pretending. For my son.