A Loveless Marriage

Chapter 11

Magnus’s POV

I knew from day one that Andrew is a man of his word. He believes in equality and justice, in karma rather than revenge. We were like opposite shores, yet somehow, we became best friends. He was always there when I needed him, and I'm forever grateful for that.

When Sophia was killed, and I was in the trauma of losing my wife, he took care of my daughter like his own. I can't repay him for that.

But today, in the last twenty years, for the first time, I'm regretting being friends with him. You know the reason. Since we got home, he's been talking about Natalia and nothing else. Yes, I told him about my marriage to her and how I tortured her. Well, not the whole story, but he concluded that himself, and now he's eating my brain, telling me how wrong I am.

For the last thirty minutes, he's been telling me that, and he's still not ready to stop. "What the heck have you done, Magnus?" He's said it like the fiftieth time, and I'm unable to handle it any longer.

I move to the other side, but he comes in front of me, continuing, "I knew you're not happy in life, but that doesn't give you the right to hurt an innocent soul who has nothing to do with you. She has done nothing wrong."

I look into his eyes and remind him, "She is Theodore’s sister?"

He instantly asks, "Is that a crime?"

"I lost my wife because of her brother," I say again, the bitterness of my loss thick in the air.

"So, by torturing her like this, you think it'll bring back Sophia?" he questions, skepticism written all over his face.

"It gives me peace," I reply, seeking refuge in my drink.

"Really?" His disbelief seeps through the words. He pauses, as if to allow his words to sink in, and then he continues, "I understand that. But I have a question for you."

Now he wants my permission? I keep quiet, but he persists, "When was the last time you slept peacefully after Sophia’s death?" Seriously, he's starting this again. I ignore him, but he makes me look him in the eyes, "Tell me, when?"

I’m silent, so he answers his own question, "When you slapped Natalia on your wedding night?" I recall that night, when I made it clear to her why I married her. She was shocked, though she didn’t say it out loud. I could feel her doubt, the shattered trust in her eyes. Lost in thought, I hear him again, "Or when you threw her out of the house on that freezing, snowy day?"

I remain silent, focusing on my drink, when he interrupts me, "What happened?" He presses, "Answer me. I’m waiting," his tone relentless.

I finally give in, tossing the bottle aside, shattering the silence with the sound of breaking glass. He's quiet for a moment, and I make my move to leave, but he stands in my way, holding onto my arm. "Andrew, I said leave my hand," I demand, frustration evident.

"No, I won't," he counters, stubbornly keeping his grip, "And I said no until you answer me." He's relentless, resuming his questioning.

"Tell me now," he urges. "Tell me, Magnus," he keeps at it, unrelenting.

"Why are you doing it?" he continues, pressing my patience to the edge, "What are you getting out of it?" he yells, pushing me to the brink.

"Why are you torturing your wife—" I can't take it any longer. I punch him in the face, a resounding "BOOM" echoing through the room. He falls to the floor, and I lower myself to his level, pointing a finger at him, “Don’t. Never call her my wife. My wife was Sophia, and no one else can take her place."

I stand up to leave, but before I do, he manages to ask, "Where the hell are you going now?" I pause, take a deep breath, then turn to face him again, a mix of regret and determination on my face, "I want her back at any cost."

He sighs, resigning to my stubbornness, and rises from the floor. He takes a step closer, his voice softer now, a touch of compassion in it, "She’s gone, Magnus. It’s time to let her go."

"Not until I've made Theodore pay, until he faces her gaze," I respond, my anger unwavering. Andrew tries to interject, but I cut him off, "He tore my life apart, and I’ll make sure he understands what he’s done."

As the conversation teeters on the edge of another round, a voice breaks the moment, a voice that sends shockwaves through our hearts. Xenia’s nanny urgently calls out, "Sir, Baby?"

Our eyes lock, shared apprehension painted across our faces, as we brace ourselves for the unknown, racing towards Xenia’s room together, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on our hearts.