Olivia Cruz
“Congratulations, Mrs. Roberto,” said the doctor. “Only three months left.”
The joy I’d felt when the doctor first told me about my pregnancy was immeasurable, and that hadn’t dissipated. If anything, it had grown. I couldn’t wait to become a mom and couldn’t stop thinking about it on my way home.
The only problem was my marriage to Dante, a man who didn’t love me, despite my many efforts to love him and win his devotion.
One might ask why I stayed with a man who didn’t love me, a husband who didn’t want me. Does one need a reason to stay with the man they love? If so, then my unborn child would have been my answer, though I would still have stayed even if I weren’t pregnant.
Once home, after I was seated in the living room, I heard thick footsteps and smelled my husband’s familiar cologne. My heart missed a beat and then thumped hard.
With overflowing excitement, I rose to my feel. “Dante, you’re back?” Despite my excitement, I still had to work not to give in to the nervousness eating at me. How could I be calm when my grumpy husband was around?
“Dante? Are you there?” I asked, scenting the room. I knew my husband’s scent so well that he was the one person I could always pick out in a crowd, despite that I’d lost my vision years ago. “That’s you, right?” I probed. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“Mm... I'm here,” he replied with the usual iciness in his voice.
“Are you okay? Did something happen at work? You don't sound happy.” Though Dante didn't give a damn about me, I still couldn’t help but care for him.
“I don’t remember complaining to you about anything,” he said with a bite as his footsteps grew louder.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and muttered, “Oh,” feeling heartbroken yet again. Though I’d grown to expect his coldness, I’d never grown accustomed to it.
“You should shower and come downstairs for dinner,” I said. “I made something for you.” Being blind never stopped me from caring for my husband, despite that he never appreciated it. I still cooked his meals even though he often rejected the meals I made, telling me he couldn't eat food made by the blind.
“What if you use detergent instead of salt?” He’d said that and similar things in the past. His words always hurt. Yet, I tried to keep my emotions together and tell myself everything was okay, though I knew it was not.
“Come here,” he said, grabbing me roughly.
I flinched and winced as he dragged me to God knows where. “You’re hurting me! Can you at least consider our baby—”
“I don't have time for that right now,” he said as my butt landed roughly on the couch. “Sign this.” He forced a pen between my fingers, held my hand, and placed it on a piece of paper on the coffee table.
My heart pounded hard. “Wh-what is it?” I asked, my voice breaking. I blinked my eyes, wishing I could see even if it was only for a minute.
“Just sign the damn paper,” he yelled, piercing my heart with his cold tone.
“D... Dante…”
“Sign the paper, Olivia!” he insisted, his grip tightening around my wrist until it grew hot.
Feeling I had no option, I reluctantly wrote my name. The moment I finished, he snatched the pen from me, took the paper, and rose from the couch.
“Dante, can you at least tell me—”
“Rose,” he called, summoning the head maid.
Light footsteps approached and then I heard Rose say, “Sir?”
“Pack Olivia's things today and help her move out first thing tomorrow morning.”
Dumbfounded, I rose to my feet. “What? What’s going on? Why do I need to move?” Despite my blindness, my eyes widened in shock. My heartbeat increased even more, and beads of sweat formed on my forehead.
“Are you planning to keep living with your ex-husband?” he asked.
Ex-husband? He was divorcing me? It couldn’t be. Dante wouldn't have forced me to sign divorce papers without my consent. He wasn't that heartless and petty. I tried to convince myself, knowing deep inside my heart that was exactly what he had just done. "Wh-what do you mean?" My voice trembled, and I tried to move my shaky legs to no avail.
But then he confirmed the nightmare was real. “You've just signed our divorce papers, Olivia,” he said with excitement replacing his usual icy tone. “Our marriage is finally over.”
“Why? Why are you divorcing me?” I asked, tears welling. “Are you ashamed of me? Is it because of my eyes? Is it because I can't see?” The first tear rolled down my cheek. “D-Dante, where are you?” I searched for him, extending my hands and moving carefully so as not to crash into anything. When I finally reached him, I held his suit tightly. “If it's because of my eyes, I'll work on them. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I see again. I promise. Please don't divorce me.” I said the words and made the promise, knowing nothing could be done about my vision.
“Let go of me, bitch!” He yanked himself away, and I staggered backward.
“Or is it of Emily?” I asked, referring to his secretary, a woman who’d had eyes on him for years, even before I knew him. “Did she tell you to divorce me?” That would be a piece of cake for someone as evil as Emily.
“Pfft,” he scoffed. “How can I call a blind woman my wife? I've been coping with this crap for so long, and now that Grandma is gone, why should I keep you by my side? Why should I have to keep seeing your annoying face?”
My heart froze as the world stopped for a few seconds. “What? Grandma died?” She was the reason we got married. She was also the only person who ever loved me or protected me from the ridicule of others. The first tears spilled onto my cheeks.
“And you ask about Emily? Cut that crap! Emily is just my colleague. Stop being a pathetic bitch!”
As expected, he defended her, but she was the least of my problems at that moment. “Grandma is dead? You must be joking. Is this just a plot to get rid of me?” I reached him again and held his suit tightly once more, my tears now flowing freely. Grandma was full of life. How could she have died so suddenly? She wasn't even sick.
“Is that what you think of me?” Emily’s voice met my ears. I hadn’t even known she was there. “I love you two together,” she continued. “I’ve never wanted you two to divorce. Are you jealous because we’re friends?”
“Emily... you...” Unable to say more, my teeth found their way to my bottom lip, and I bit down hard.
“Don't listen to her,” Dante said to Emily. “It's not your fault.” Though I couldn’t see them, I would have bet they were holding hands or maybe even hugging.
“Don't give Rose issues while packing,” Dante said, directing his attention back to me, his voice cold once more. “Not everyone is as jobless as you.”
