Chapter 3 Date

Chapter Three

Diana's Point of View

Date

As soon as I finished preparing lunch, I hurried down to the bathroom, eager for a long, relaxing shower. I wanted to feel fresh, beautiful, and most importantly, ready for him.

Tonight, I planned to wear my favorite lingerie, the one that made me feel sexy, desired, and irresistible. I wanted him to look at me and remember why he chose me.

I couldn't help but think of him-David, my husband, the man who had taken my virginity so carefully, so tenderly. The memory still made my heart race.

But lately, his touch had become rare, fleeting... almost nonexistent. I wondered if it was me. I sniffed lightly, almost embarrassed at the thought, but the aroma that greeted me was fine-clean, soft, comforting. No, the problem wasn't me.

For so long, I had been starving-for intimacy, for affection, for the simple warmth of his hand on mine. I had tried to reach him in every way I could imagine, but he was always consumed by business. Meetings, calls, deals... it never ended.

On the rare days he was home, he claimed exhaustion, insisting he had no strength left for anything else. And I swallowed it all. I swallowed the disappointment, the loneliness, the growing ache in my chest. Because I wanted this marriage. I had prayed for a man like him for years, and I refused to throw it away.

What would society think if I divorced him after all these years of longing, waiting, and sacrificing? I had to be patient. I had to hope.

And yet, as I finished my shower and wrapped myself in a soft towel, a flicker of doubt crept in. Curiosity got the better of me. I pulled out my phone and decided to search for the woman who now handle my former empire. Eleanor.

Nothing. No social media accounts connected to his surname. No traces linking her to him at all. My heart sank a little. Perhaps she wasn't active online, or perhaps... the lie was bigger than I imagined.

I shook my head, dismissing the dark thought. I set the dinner table meticulously, lighting candles, arranging plates neatly, making the place inviting, warm, romantic. I wanted him to feel at home, to feel the love that still coursed through me despite the coldness that had crept into our marriage.

Minutes turned to hours. I checked the clock. Nothing. No sign of him. My phone lay beside me, silent. I dialed his number. Nothing. Not even a missed call notification. Not unusual-he always claimed he didn't answer calls during meetings.

I fidgeted, biting my lower lip. Why? Why now, of all days, would he ignore me? Why leave me waiting, hopeful, vulnerable? My chest ached, my heart shattered yet again into a million tiny pieces.

I should have been used to disappointment by now, but I wasn't. Hope lingered stubbornly, whispering that one day, things would go back to the way they used to be-before distance, before neglect, before this constant ache of longing.

I checked the food again. The dinner had gone cold. I sighed, dished out a portion for myself, and sat down to eat, the silence of the mansion pressing in on me.

A knock on the door made me startle.

I turned to see my closest friend smiling at me, her presence like a warm ray of sunshine cutting through the shadows of my thoughts.

"Hey, girl," she said, stepping inside and wrapping me in a comforting hug.

"Hey," I replied, my voice low, moody.

"What's up?" she asked, concern lining her expression.

"Nothing," I muttered quickly, not wanting to bore her with my marital problems. I wasn't sure I could even put the heartbreak into words yet.

She didn't press at first, only leaned closer, holding me with gentle insistence. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

I hesitated. But then, the dam broke. "Fine," I whispered. "I don't know what to do. David has refused to make love to me... and I am not getting any younger."

Her eyes softened, and a hint of worry crossed her face. "Hmmm... this is serious," she murmured.

"Have you spoken to him about it?" she asked.

"Well... yes. I have tried. I have made up my mind to bring it up tonight," I said, trying to sound determined, though uncertainty gnawed at me.

Lindsay rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly. She had advised me against marrying David, but I hadn't listened. And despite everything, she remained a pillar of support.

"You're only thirty-four, Diana," she said gently. "You're still vibrant, still full of life. Don't let this consume you. Breathe a little, honey."

I managed a small nod. "Okay... I'll try. But you know how I get sometimes-I worry too much."

She pulled me closer. "Just give him time. Once this deal is over, he'll have all your attention, like he promised."

I smiled faintly. "Thank you... you've been a good friend," I said, feeling the warmth of her presence settle in my chest.

"Now, let's eat before the food gets cold again," she said, moving to plate her own portion from the microwave.

We ate together, talking and laughing, sharing stories of recent admirers, business ventures, family pressures. Lindsay never missed a beat, offering advice, teasing me, keeping me grounded even when my heart threatened to spiral.

When she finally left, the mansion fell silent again, the echoes of her laughter lingering in the air like a ghost. I sank into the chair, the emptiness of the house pressing against me.