“So what? Have I ever denied you money? Are you starving? Lacking clothes? Can you stop making a fuss for no reason? It’s not like I ever called you useless!”
He never understood what that one form of address truly meant to me.
And by now, I was too tired to explain.
“If you won’t sign, then fine, we’ll settle it in court.”
“Starting tonight, I’m moving out. If you change your mind, you know how to reach me.”
By midnight, I left the villa with my packed suitcase. Behind me came his voice, loud and uncontrolled.
“Eliana, remember your words! Even if you beg me on your knees, don’t ever think of coming back!”
“There are plenty of women lining up to marry me! If I hadn’t met you first, do you think you’d even have had a shot?”
Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t turn back.
I walked out of the residential complex and hailed a taxi to the apartment I had bought before marriage.
Memories flooded in.
When I first met Maverick, he had been nothing more than an arrogant, reckless heir.
Back in college, he was infamous, known for fights and chaos, the kind of trouble that made everyone stay away.
Used to chasing after flashy, arrogant rich girls, Maverick noticed me on the very first day of school.
“Hey, are you in this major too? We’re in the same class, why not add each other on WhatsApp?”
I avoided him like the plague. “Sorry, I don’t have WhatsApp on my phone.”
His smile stiffened, pausing mid-air for two seconds. He clearly hadn’t expected to be brushed off.
I didn’t bother explaining. I simply turned and jogged back to the dorm, missing the flicker of curiosity that lit up in his eyes.
My roommates later said Maverick waited outside the girls’ dorm every day.
But I was too busy juggling part-time jobs, struggling to survive, and barely spending any time on campus at all.
We kept a peaceful distance for half a semester, until I got a phone call from the hospital.
They said my father had committed domestic violence again, and my mother had been seriously injured.
I rushed home after filing for leave, but by the time I arrived, the hospital had already discharged her. We couldn’t afford the bills.
She was kneeling on the cold cement floor at home, bruised, disheveled, and utterly broken.
My father reeked of smoke and liquor, cursing with foul, vicious words.
"You filthy bitch, had a child and still won’t behave. Where have you been? Cheating, huh? Don’t think I don’t see right through you. Trying to run? Dream on!"
"If it weren’t for your damn womb, do you think I would’ve married you? You were a cheap deal for the dowry, and you can’t even give me a son! If I’d known, I would’ve just killed you back then!"
My mother sobbed uncontrollably, her entire body trembling.
"You say you won’t give us money, but still want meat to eat. Where am I supposed to find money for groceries? Eliana has school, and we have tuition to pay. If I don’t work, how will we survive?"
I had seen my mother in that pitiful state far too many times.
She was nothing like the glowing, carefree girl in those faded yellowed photographs.
Once upon a time, my father had been drawn in by her beauty and grace, but he never nourished that rose with even an ounce of love.
That rose slowly withered, burning away her entire life for this home, only to be repaid with scorn and cruelty.
For the first time, I felt I had truly grown up. I rushed forward and shielded my mother.
I told them I would take responsibility for our living expenses and my tuition.
I thought my father would finally relent and spare her.
But I was wrong.
He turned all his fury on me instead, cursing me for not being a boy, accusing my mother of having a worthless womb.
He barked that girls didn’t need education, told me to drop out of school, and go on a blind date.
The bride price was eighteen thousand dollars. The match? A fifty-year-old disabled man.
My mother, burning with every ounce of love she had left, stood in front of me and begged me to run.
To never come back. But I refused to leave.
Drunk and raging, my father grabbed a kitchen knife.
And in that critical moment, Maverick appeared.
