Chapter 2
Growing up as an orphan, I often spent my days painting in the yard of the orphanage, dreaming of a life far beyond the walls that confined me.
I longed for someone who might see my potential, adopt me, and help me pursue my passion for art. My greatest dream was to become a famous painter and open my own studio, a place where my creations. could flourish.
Then, after graduating high school, A woman offered me a rare chance. They would fund my studies at the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD), one of the finest art schools in the US.
However, there was only one condition. I would need to marry their son, Gale, who was five years older than me and heartbroken after his longtime girlfriend.
had left him to move to Paris.
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I hesitated at first. After all, I was only eighteen, and Gale was twenty–three. “But does Gale…does he know about this?” I
asked.
“Yes, and he has agreed,” she replied, her gaze softening.
As a result, I accepted, partly out of gratitude and partly out of duty. Her mother had shown me a kindness I had never known, and I wanted to repay her.
Gale and I entered the marriage more like acquaintances than lovers, but I held out hope that, over time, we might grow close.
During college, I tried to carry my own weight too, by earning scholarships, selling my paintings online, and doing my best not to burden Gale financially.
But Gale treated me like an inconvenience. Cold and indifferent, he barely
acknowledged my efforts, regarding me as though I was an unwanted guest in his life.
On our wedding day, he refused even to
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kiss me, turning away the moment the
ceremony was over.
The rare times Gale came to my room were on nights he was drunk, and those encounters were never out of affection; rather than calling it love, it felt like a violation, a reminder that I was tolerated, not cherished.
One night, he stumbled into my room, his eyes glazed from drinking. I tensed, already sensing what was about to happen.
“Rachel,” he slurred, leaning against the doorframe, “Why don’t you ever come to my room?”
“You never asked me to,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “And it’s not like you wanted this marriage any more than I did.”
He scoffed, crossing the room unsteadily and grabbing my arm. “You‘ re just here. because of my mother. Without her, you‘ re nothing.” The words stung, even
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though I had heard them many times before.
“Yes, Gale,” I whispered, as his grip tightened. “I know.”
The years passed, and I endured it all out of loyalty to her mother, who had been my only source of kindness and support. I even turned down an offer to study abroad, fearing that leaving would disappoint her.
But no matter what I did, I could never fill the place in Gale‘ s heart that had always belonged to Lilian, his ex–girlfriend. I was nothing more than a substitute, a shadow of the person she truly loved.
So, that night, after arguing with Gale, I felt a quiet resolve settle in me.
My professor’s words echoed in my mind.
“The scholarship is yours if you want it. Italy is waiting for you, Rachel.”
It was more than an opportunity; it was a lifeline. The chance to study in Italy felt like a door finally opening after years of
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being locked away.
That was why I had decided to walk through it, to leave behind everything that had held me back.
**
The next morning, as I joined Gale for breakfast, he barely acknowledged me, his attention glued to his phone. The events of the previous night seemed to have slipped his mind entirely.
I cleared my throat, determined to press on, to speak the truth that had been aching in me for so long.
“Gale,” I began, trying to keep my tone light, “what would you think if I did a master’s degree in Italy?”
He did not look up, just waved a hand as if dismissing a minor detail. “It’s up to you,” he mumbled, his eyes still fixed on his phone screen.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to
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continue. “And since I’ll be there for a while,” I said, careful to keep my voice steady, “what about a divorce?”
This time, I thought he would stop, maybe look at me, ask for an explanation. But instead, his response was the same casual indifference.
“No problem,” he muttered, still scrolling, completely unfazed.
A strange mix of relief and sorrow washed over me. There it was, all the proof I
needed that I had been nothing more than a fixture in his life, something he would not miss once it was gone.
Gale had not even noticed that I had stopped preparing his clothes, or his water bath, since I had gradually handed those responsibilities to the maids.
Everything he once demanded of me had slipped away, and he had not blinked.
“Okay then,” I said, pushing back my chair and standing. I looked down at my
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untouched breakfast, realizing I had no appetite left.
As I rose, my eyes drifted to his phone, where a message thread glowed on the screen. The contact name, ‘My Lily,‘ was unmistakable.
Gale was chatting with Lilian, her name in his phone a reminder of everything I could never be to him. His world, his devotion, his heart, those were all reserved for her.
Then suddenly a call came to his phone, it was from Lilian. After listening to her, he directly answered, fully aware, “I’ll be there in a minute.”
A bitter smile tugged at my lips. ‘So, this is what it feels like, to finally know where you stand,‘ I thought.
