Chapter 2

The morning was like what it had been for the past two years – tense.

Michelle woke up that morning and didn't feel like going to work. But she knew that despite the bustling activities at Bernard, Cole, and Dylan, it was the place that offered the abandonment of her miseries. A day filled with signing of documents and speaking with the firm's clients didn't offer her much time to recount her woes, and when she returned home, she was too tired to dwell on them. But the mornings came with the hurting reminder that Oliver was not the man she fell in love with two years ago. Maybe he was still that proud and rich guy who was able to take away a table from two ladies, maybe he wasn't even proud. Michelle could barely say five correct things about the man who stood at the end of the aisle, watching her, while she adorned herself in a white gown, and promised to be by his side.

Oliver hadn't lived to his promises.

It had been bearable to conceal her worries during the first few months of their nuptials until Michelle couldn't keep it a secret anymore. Oliver Shane never hit her – he was a man who could never subject himself to hit a lady – but there were days when Michelle wished he could tell her what she had done, even hit her, and reconcile their differences. But Oliver had his way of dealing with his wife. And it hurt Michelle to see their love quickly fading away, leaving nothing but latent indignation, voracious hatred, and excessive change.

All Michelle wanted was to please her husband, and by a miracle, receive the affection she used to enjoy during the days when they dated.

Oliver wanted her to change her wardrobe after they got married and Michelle had willingly tossed away her fitted and perfectly sized work clothes, to clothes that were not sewn for her size. She buried her full-length mirror in the lower drawer of her dressing table alongside the many items she had loved to use in beautifying her looks. Now, all she stared at in the morning was a palm-sized mirror. She caught her reflection on the reflective surface and forced a smile. Even without the make-up, she was still beautiful. And irresistible to her reticent husband most nights.

She dashed out of the room and met Oliver in his usual morning position.

"Good morning, babe," she said, hoping he would take his gaze off the magazine in his hand and smile his response.

Oliver hesitated. Maybe he could ignore her greeting or pretend he didn't hear her. "Good morning, Michelle." His eyes never left the page, even though the words inscribed on the pages were becoming invisible. He gripped the edges of the Morning Digest and focused on the biography of the man of the month. After being recognized as the best business mogul in Chicago for months, Oliver was looking forward to seeing his picture appear on the front page of the magazine again.

Michelle never had an appetite for breakfast but she knew how important it was if she wanted to cope with the stress at Bernard, Cole, and Dylan's law firm. She fetched some coffee from the coffee machine and four pieces of cookies on the saucer.

Oliver raised his head from the blank pages and watched her.

It's too difficult, he told himself. Just too difficult.

At first, he thought he could live with her sin, forgive her, and move on. But he kept thinking about the photos that proved everything he had heard about her. He had excused her that she was drunk that night but over the past few months, Oliver wondered if he had not made a mistake donning his suit and standing by the altar while his disloyal wife-to-be walked to him. Maybe he could have said "I don't" and walk away. But he couldn't hurt her. Now, all he did was hurt her. Even when he made love to her.

He tried to forget about her treachery but he wasn't sure if she was a repentant sinner. When Michelle turned her head to face him, he returned his unfocused gaze to the magazine.

"I left some cookies in the jar," he heard her say. Oliver knew Michelle was dying to have a conversation with him, but he was past indulging her. He closed the Morning Digest and walked out of the room.

Michelle swallowed the hurt painfully and wished the tears wouldn't fall again. She pursed her lips and blamed herself for trying too much. Maybe she could learn to hate him. But how could she hate a man she loved so much?

She pushed the rest of her breakfast aside and took a quick glance at the sitting room she had decorated in their first month as a couple. Michelle had many things she wished to do, but Oliver was killing her slowly. She grabbed her bag and steadied out of the house.

Oliver was watching her through the window as she slid into her car and drove off.

He placed a call. "Follow her and tell me where she goes."

He sighed and pushed his back to the bed, realizing she could be opening her legs to every lawyer at the firm.

***

Michelle could never say she was strong enough to ignore Oliver's attitude. Her heart yearned each day for his affection and her eyes poured out her emotions every morning in the solitude of her car. Her eyes were blinded by the tears that freely escaped as she drove on along Harlem avenue. It was Beverly that helped her sanity.

"Bev…" she cried into her phone.

Whenever Beverly got a morning call from Michelle, she knew it was about Oliver.

"Michelle." She rolled on her bed and sat up. From the opposite window, she glanced at the busy street with workers brisking on the sidewalk. "How are you, my friend?"

Michelle began sobbing harder. "I'm freaking tired, Bev. I wanna give up." She sniffled.

"No," Beverly cautioned. "You can't do that, Mich. What happened this time? Did he hit you?"

Michelle closed her eyes briefly and released the tears hanging on her lids. "No…I wish he did. If that would make him sorry and talk to me."

Beverly sighed. "Maybe he's going through a difficult time at work."

Michelle scoffed. "Difficult? He was on Forbes two months ago and his face was on the Morning Digest three times. Oliver was the same during those months."

"Maybe you should talk to him."

"Again? The last time I did, he called me a slut. God knows I've been faithful to my marriage with him. It hurts so much when the person you love changes too much…I've done everything he wanted me to do for goodness sake."

"I'll come over today. How about that?"

Oliver was always calmer whenever a guest was around. It was those moments of pretenses that Michelle dwelt on. Those were the times when Oliver will look at her and offer a smile. They were the times he used endearments. And the aftermath hurt her more because it was a reminder that Oliver was deliberately hurting her.

"You should," Michelle surrendered. Maybe she could revel in the pretenses and begin to live in the lies that they were in love.

"I'll be there by six. What time do you close today?"

"I don't know. If there's not much to do, I'll be home by 5."

"Call me when you're coming. And Michelle…please, be happy. At least, you're married."

That was no solace.

Michelle scoffed. "That's satisfying. I miss our little space. I miss how I use to think about what to buy every month."

Beverly rolled her eyes and plopped on the bed. "You spent a fortune decorating when we should have used the money to go out."

And the first outing I take you, you grab a good guy, she added subconsciously.

Michelle chuckled. Beverly always knew how to make her feel better and make her heart bear lesser sorrows. "At least, you appreciated it. Guess who else loves my creative designs? Nobody."

She made a turn into 82nd street and joined the traffic of vehicles at Nottingham avenue.

"Oliver is a good man," she heard Beverly say. "Be patient with him, my friend."

Michelle sighed. "I'll do my best to be the best wife. I'll stop being naughty."

She stopped at the traffic light.

"I didn't mean that, Mich."

Michelle stared at the moving digital timer attached to the traffic light. "I know. I just lack the strength for humor sometimes."

The traffic began to flow again and she joined drivers along the double carriage road. She made a stop at Bernard, Cole, and Dylan's law firm. It was a large structure overlooking 83rd street.

"I've got to go now, Bev. It's going to be a busy day."

"I'll see you tonight."

"Sure."

Michelle killed the engine and slid out of the car. She stared at the daunting building. It was another day of work. Angry lawyers and angrier clients.