I’d be damned before I let anything bad happen to her.
Chapter 21 – Celine
I was married to the monster who kidnapped me, stole my innocence, and got me pregnant. This was my reality. One I had come to accept at last.
I realized it was useless to fight a losing battle because he had already won a long time ago, when he made my body crave him nonstop. When he made a woman out of me and left a chunk of him inside me.
The wedding was just an event to solidify what already existed between us. The bond I never really admitted was there. It was a gathering of witnesses that made our union official in the eyes of the law.
I belonged to him long before the wedding ceremony. Even though I wanted to hate him for ruining my life, a part of me wouldn’t let me. That part that was starting to feel something for this monster.
Maybe I was a hypocrite for calling him a monster only when it was convenient for me. I never saw him as such whenever he made love to me and touched me in all the right places.
I never saw him as a cold-blooded murderer when his kisses burned through me like fire. Or when his face was buried between my legs. I only called him names when things weren’t going my way.
So maybe Iwasa hypocrite.
That realization was one of the reasons I decided to cease fire, coupled with the knowledge that my fate was sealed. Why fight when I could study this man and figure out how to relate to him?
At least I already understood that we both came from different worlds. And we viewed life through separate lenses. Histhoughts, ideas, and beliefs differed from mine—and maybe that was one of the forces pulling us together.
We were exact opposites of each other, which was why we had conflicts. If we could understand and accept our individual differences, maybe we could make this work.
Since I was always the one yelling and complaining, the change should start from me. Whether this marriage worked or not, Artur had nothing to lose. Not me. There were many things that could go wrong for me.
However, if things worked out in the end, it would still benefit me. Therefore, determined to turn a new leaf, I first had to accept two harsh truths.
One: that this was life now, and there was nothing I or anyone else could do about it.
Two: that deep down, I felt something for him—something other than hatred and disdain.
Accepting the second truth was a hard pill to swallow. But then again, acceptance didn’t mean confession. I wasn’t compelled to express my feelings, so it was easier to keep them all in.
After the wedding night and the breathtaking oral sex that went down, things had been smooth between us. We barely fought, and I hardly found a reason to be mad at him.
He was still pretty annoying, especially with the little things, like when he snored at night. But it wasn’t something I couldn’t handle. Besides, he only did that whenever he was exhausted and drained.
I was learning how not to react to everything he did. I ignored some things and talked about the ones I thought he should know about. Like dumping his sweaty shirts on the couch after a long day at work or leaving foam on the walls after showering.
Now that we shared the same bedroom, we both had to be intentional about what the other liked or disliked. For instance, he didn’t like sleeping with the light on. I did. I loved leaving the balcony door open at night. He didn’t.
These differences were the small things we needed to adjust to. And we did. Or at least, we decided to try.
Every time I thought back on our first experience with the light issue, I always found myself smiling. Although it wasn’t funny at the time.
It was a random day. He returned home late that night, and I was already asleep. Before sliding into bed with me, he turned off the light, thinking I had fallen asleep and forgotten to turn it off.
When I woke up in the middle of the night and realized everywhere was dark, I got out of bed and turned the light back on.
After I fell asleep again, he woke up later, found the light on, and turned it off.
The next morning, I asked him to call the electrician because the lights in our bedroom were flickering. He then looked at me and said he thought so too, that every time he turned them off and went back to sleep, they would come back on their own.
That was when it hit me. There was no electrical malfunction. We were the ones turning the lights on and off.
“Who sleeps with the lights off?” I’d argued.
“Everyone. That’s why it’s called ‘lights out.’”