The system pointed to the mess of a man passed out in the corner and said, That’s your target. To go home, I had to hit 100% affection.
I didn’t get it. Why was the love of some guy, especially this guy, the key to my freedom? But I played along. If this was the way out, then so be it.
I started small. He’d get plastered at the bar, so I’d apologize to everyone, clean up the mess, and haul him back to his place. He’d talk about Bella’s favorite desserts, so I signed up for baking classes to learn his tastes. But no matter how hard I tried, he never so much as glanced at the stuff I made. It went straight into the trash.
He warned me not to try to be Bella. Told me I wasn’t even fit to stand in her shadow. So, I stopped baking. Instead, I learned to cook. Adrian couldn’t handle the late nights anymore, so I started bringing him healthy meals to his office. And, surprisingly, he started letting me stick around.
Those were the calmest days we’d ever had. His affection climbed to 98%.
Just when I thought I was about to go home, one reckless night of drinking left me pregnant. And Adrian, pushed by his family, married me. That’s when his “affection” dropped like a stone. He thought I’d tricked him, that I’d gotten pregnant on purpose to trap him.
Funny how he conveniently ignored who didn’t use protection that night. He and Bella were the same that way, always needing someone to blame.
Did it make their guilt easier to carry?
I’ll never understand it. It’s just so ridiculous.
