Chapter 3 3

Elena.

I got into bed and told myself I'd wait for him. I kept thinking and overthinking.

*What happens now? What am I supposed to do? And what if he comes to bed right now? We're supposed to be officially married, right?*

He hadn't spoken to me at all. I just wanted to understand how our relationship was supposed to work. I felt like he was cold toward me, like maybe he'd been forced into this, too. I was sure I was way below the standards of everyone he knew, everyone around him. Honestly, I didn't even know how I fit into all of this. I was certain he'd been pressured just like I was.

Suddenly, I heard a bell ringing from the bathroom. I figured he needed something, but since he didn't talk, I guessed he used the bell to call for help. I waited a bit, thinking maybe a servant would come, but nobody did. So I got out of bed and opened the bathroom door without knocking.

He was naked, taking a shower, with water running down his body and over his muscles. I wanted so badly to glance down at his lower half, but of course, I was extremely embarrassed.

Sure, he was my husband, but I couldn't just act like he really was. I'd never seen a man's body before in my life. I'd never even seen a naked man. I stood there, frozen and awkward. Then I looked up and met his eyes. I waited for him to say something, to tell me to leave, or just say anything at all. But he just stayed as he was-silent.

*Maybe that's just how he is,* I thought. *Maybe he really is mute.* But all the rumors said he spoke, just at certain times. Maybe he hated me. Maybe he thought I wasn't even worthy of him talking to me. I didn't know. But I still tried to stay positive.

I smiled at him and said,

"Do you need anything? Is there something I can help you with?"

He looked at me and sighed, like he was just tolerating me. I couldn't figure him out. I glanced around and realized there wasn't a towel for him to dry off with. I said,

"Hold on a second,"

then rushed out to find a towel. I brought him a towel, and even grabbed him some underwear-there wasn't anything for him to wear, not even boxers. I also brought him a robe and handed them over.

I saw a slight hint of a smile in his eyes, like he was grateful even if he didn't say it. That made me feel so much better. I gave him a little salute with my finger and said,

"All set, sir. I'll wait for you outside."

I caught a small, sideways smile from him, like he was trying not to smile. Honestly, even that tiny smile was really nice. It made me feel hopeful, especially since he wasn't old or ugly or anything like that. On the contrary, I thought he was maybe twenty-eight or thirty at the most.

I'd married him and still didn't know anything about him. I was sure I'd find out more as I got closer to him. I went outside and sat on the balcony for a while, swinging my legs, waiting for him to come out-hoping he'd say something, or that maybe we could finally talk.

I remembered that the first time he communicated with me, it was by writing something on his phone. When he came out, he did the same thing-he wrote something on his phone and showed it to me. I looked at the screen, then looked at him.

He'd written,

"Divorce."

I looked up at him, shocked, and said,

"Divorce? What do you mean, divorce? We only get married once!"

He typed again:

"I mean, you tried to kill yourself on our wedding night. That means you hate me and reject me. Maybe it's because I don't talk, or maybe you love someone else. So, I'll leave you and we'll separate, but I just need some time."

As soon as I finished reading what he wrote, I stood up on my tiptoes so I could get closer to his face. I smiled and told him,

"I don't want a divorce. I don't want to separate. I want to stay with you."

Then I kissed his cheek and said,

"Good night."

I went into his bed, pulled the covers over myself, and waited for him to come sleep next to me.