Chapter one: Getting a divorce

KAMARIA'S POV

Is ten o clock in the night. I was going through my nightly routine when I heard his call drive into the garage. Despite having heard this sound for the past five years of our marriage my heart still leaps anytime I hear it.

I didn't get up from my vanity chair but continued to brush my dark curls waiting for him to come to me.

Even though I didn't go to him that didn't stop every part of me from focusing on him. My heart was still beating very strongly in my chest, my ears more alert that usual to hear even the tiniest sound he makes, like the sound of his shoes whose familiarity I have gotten so used to that I will recognise his footsteps anywhere. My skin already tingling in anticipation of him walking into the room. My nostrils readying to perceive that masculine scent that always announces him whenever he enters the room.

His footsteps was the first thing that I heard as it climbed the glassy spiral stair case of our house. It was unhurried, like he doesn't want to reach where he is going but have got no choice.

The thought sprang a spark of sadness in my chest like it had done for the last five years I have heard it, the moments he had chosen to come home, and it looks like today is one of those moments.

The flight of stairs leading to our room is about hundred, but the anticipation of waiting made it look like thousands, but at last I heard those heavy confident footfalls in front of our door. He has always walked like someone who is not afraid of anything, always sure of himself. I have hated and admired that in him.

My heart which was beating fast before started roaring as I felt him close. My hand that was leisurely running the comb through my silky waves stopped, and fell into my laps as I tried to curb my nerves.

I should have gotten used to him by now, should have stopped feeling like I am meeting him for the first time every time he walks into the room, after all we have been married for five years. But that first date syndrome is yet to wear of.

Instead of walking in straight like he usually do the nights he comes home he hesitated at the door. That deviation in the norm made my heart flutter, but not in a good way. My husband is a creature of habit and if he is not doing things as he usually does spells trouble.

I tried to control my anxiety and wait. Despite my longing for him, despite the joy infusing my pores like a drug I didn't get up. I still sat with my spine straight, focusing on the round vanity mirror with pink edges barely seeing my image reflecting back at me.

He stood at that door for what felt like hours but was just few seconds before the door handle turned.

Have you ever watched a horror movie and axe murderer is entering the unaware victim's home. The slowness at which the door turns, the anticipation and fear the background ominous music creates. This is what was happening to me as I waited, with the grinding sound of the brass door handle ringing in my ears.

Finally it opened and he walked in.

As always sandalwood and spice announced his presence.

A scent that causes a bittersweet feeling in my heart whenever I perceive it anywhere.

I was hungry to turn and see his handsome face, to run to him and embrace him, to kiss him all over and beg him to touch me.

Is been long since we made love. The last time was about a month ago, and that has been because he was drunk. Which sadly has always been the case whenever my husband decides to make love to me. His indebridement have never stopped him from being the best lover I have ever had. Fulling every bit of my desires.

"Welcome home," I said softly, with my back still turned to him. I started combing my hair again not because it needed brushing but because I needed something to keep my nerves at bay. They are shooting off like sparks of electricity with him in the same room with me.

He didn't acknowledge my greeting. Which is bad, but I refused to get unnecessarily worked up.

"Have you had dinner?" I turned to face him finally. His tanned handsome face looked a little weary but that didn't in anyway stop him from being the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on, nor did it stopped my heart from leaping off my chest or my skin from tingling like needle pricks.

"Yeah, I had dinner with Lily."

His voice was flat, emotionless, like he was discussing business ventures with his partners and not his wife.

Hearing her name caused my heart to twist around itself in so much pain, so excruciating that it felt like a blunt knife to the chest.

Lily is my husband's mistress, his lover, the woman he loves and the woman he refused to give up even though he was married to me.

I nodded not knowing what to say.

Damien had made it clear that I have no say in what he does since our marriage isn't a real one.

To me it felt real, but to him it will always be something he was forced to do.

"Oh," I mumbled underneath my voice. You could hear the pain in my voice with that one word. And the pity that flashed through his blue eyes before he masked it with a cold look drove the blunt knife deeper into my chest.

The thing worse than not being loved by your husband is being pitied by him.

This is usually where our interactions ends unless he is drunk and wants to have drunken sex with his wife. No, that actually has its own interaction. Whenever he comes home and is in the mood of sex he will usually not say a word and just grabs me and throws me on the bed, kissing me like I am some common whore in the street. Not caring whether I am in the mood or enjoying his touch, but unfortunately his touch never fails to excite me.

I got up from the small stool I was sitting on, tightened my robe around me and headed towards the bed.

I was about to lie down on my side of the bed when his deep baritone voice spoke again.

"Kamaria wait, there is something I would like to talk to you about."

When you are in a relationship and the other partner who usually don't talk much decides to talk that usually spells trouble.

The bad fluttering in my heart transferred to my stomach. I turned to him with nothing on my face. I didn't want him to see the fear his words caused.

"What do you want to talk about?" My voice was calm which I must say I was proud off.

"Let's get a divorce."