Chapter 2 Nicole

Ever since I'd married Nicholas Jackwood, he had constantly been messing with my mental health. I thought he would be my chance to escape hell, but he apparently became hell for me. Now that I thought I could have a peaceful divorce, Nicholas had shut down any possibility of a clean break.

Since I married him, every public appearance, every business meeting, I have felt shadowed by the news of Nicholas' latest scandal. Rumors, like wildfire, spread through the business industry, threatening to tarnish the carefully created image I'd built.

My name, once identical to elegance and success, now carried a faint smoke of scandal, all thanks to my husband's penchant for public flirting. Defeat and exhaustion washed over me like a cold wave. The weight of it all pressed down on me. I'd poured my heart and soul into my career, and now, it felt like Nicholas' careless actions could destroy it all.

The anger that had prompted my initial confrontation simmered down, replaced by hopelessness. How much longer could I keep fighting this losing battle? How much longer could I endure it?

Here I am, preparing for the pomp he was invited to. Nicholas and I went to pick up a dress for tonight's event. This boutique was where I shop for my clothes. It has all types of dresses for all events. I have already booked an appointment with my hairstylist and make-up artist. Even if I wasn't happy, I had to look happy.

Looking around, I caught a glimpse of Nicholas lounging on a plush velvet armchair, flipping through a fashion magazine with a bored expression. This was our usual pre-pomp ritual. Me, stressed and running a tight schedule, booking appointments with stylists and searching for a dress that would just fit the occasion, and Nicholas, who is always in attendance just to make sure my dress suits his taste.

"Anything catch your eye yet, dearest?" he drawled, barely looking up from the magazine. His voice dripped with an infuriating nonchalance that grated on my nerves.

I forced a smile. "Not yet, but I'll get something soon." That was half the truth, the truth is I don't even want to be here I the first place. However, half the dresses here are not even up to his taste. Either the colors were "too loud," or the necklines were "too revealing," and anything remotely interesting was deemed "inappropriate." It felt like he was determined to turn me into a mannequin, a perfect accessory, rather than a woman with her own style.

A sigh escaped my lips as one of the sales assistants launched into a description of a gown that shimmered with a thousand silver sequins. It was breathtaking, but I knew before she even finished that Nicholas would dismiss it for being "too flashy."

Nicholas stood up from where he was sitting, he launched his search for a dress. His performance of playing a happy couple in public was exhausting. But for now, I played my part, flipping through racks of dresses with him, all the while yearning for the day when I wouldn't have to wear whatever he wants again.

The silence between us was awkward. If he could play the happy couple game, I could play along. "The people here are going to think you're the best husband in town," I remarked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Only I deserve that award, my wife," he countered with a smirk, the kind that never reached his eyes.

I scoffed, tossing the black dress I was holding back on the rack. This whole charade of dress shopping was a game I was growing increasingly tired of playing.

Picking up a fiery red dress, I felt a rebellious spark ignite within me. This dress was daring just by looking at it. I imagine how it will hug my curves in all the right places. I placed the dress in front of me, turning to Nicholas as a way of calling his attention.

"I don't like this one," Nicholas finally spoke immediately he saw it, his voice laced with disapproval. "Too revealing."

"Like I care," I retorted, surprising even myself with my newfound defiance.

"You are Nicole Jackwood," he countered, his tone clipped, a reminder that I am still his wife.

"Only on the paper," I shot back, my voice firm. The truth hung heavy in the air, a silent accusation.

He gathered his charm and moved closer to me, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent shivers down my spine, not of desire, but of apprehension.

"Be a good girl, Nicole," he breathed into my ear, his words laced with a veiled threat. "Pick the other red dress."

The air in the boutique grew thick with tension. This wasn't just about a dress anymore. I moved away from him before his presence choked me. A prickle of unease ran down my spine as I surveyed the rack for the other red dress.

Despite the little arguments and the ever-present shadow of the awkwardness we carried as a couple, we seemed to be the picture-perfect couple in front of others. As I looked around to see if anyone caught on with our little argument, heads were already turned towards us in admiration.

Ignoring the stares, I surprised myself by reaching for the red dress. Without a word, I disappeared into the changing room, the red silk cool against my skin.

Stepping out, I took a deep breath, half-expecting his usual "I don't care" attitude. But instead, his silence welcomed me. I stared at my reflection, and it stared back, giving me a vision of confidence in the red dress. That felt both exciting and strange at the same time.

Then, Nicholas spoke, his voice bringing me back to reality. "You look stunning," he said, his voice low and husky. For a moment, I almost believed him. He held my gaze longer than usual, and a flicker of something unreadable crossed his features. Was it a surprise? Or admiration? I can't say.

Before I could dissect his expression further, he moved past me, a hint of impatience in his tone. "Let's get you some matching jewelry and shoes," he said, already heading towards the shoe ranks in the boutique.

The compliment was still ringing in my head. Had I won this small battle? No, that was his usual way of flirting with women. I shouldn't take it seriously. But, I won't lie, his simple compliment got to me. The red dress felt like a symbol of my victory.

We exited the boutique with bags of the things I got. Nicholas waved off my protests and insisted on paying for everything. It wasn't like I couldn't afford it myself, but he always insisted on paying, saying "I'm your husband, I should be responsible for everything you wear for me."

We walked back to the parking lot of the boutique in silence. As we reached the sleek black car waiting at the curb, a practiced smile etched on Nicholas's face. He opened the door with a charm, the gesture as empty as the vow we made on our wedding day.

"Thank you," I murmured, slipping into the cool leather interior. The air conditioner felt like it was trying to quench the burning knot of anger and sadness twisted in my gut.

Nicholas leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You should go home." I gave him a questioning look.

"I have some unfinished business around here," he said, a wink accompanying the words that sent a fresh wave of nausea washing over me.

I knew exactly what "unfinished business" meant. Another one of his flings. A choked laugh escaped my lips, a bitter sound that echoed in the confined space.

"Right," I managed, forcing a smile that felt brittle and strained. "Well, have a productive evening then."

As the car pulled away, leaving Nicholas standing on the curb, a single tear traced a path down my cheek. "We're married just on paper," I whispered, the words a hollow echo in the silence.