Restriction

Chapter 3

"Cooper, it's lunchtime. What're you doing in still?" I jump, my s10 plus falling onto the tiles. Wincing, I pick it up and noticed that it was actually unscratched. Phew.

"I must've lost track of time." I force a smile at Ben, who tilts his head at me. I gave him a look, knowing exactly what he was thinking. He only shook his head and left.

Hey honey, are you going to be home early? - 11:27 am

Hey, love just checking up on you, call me. . . or even text me back when you get this - 11:59 am

Hope you got to work safely, love you ♥ - 12:45 pm

What would you like to eat for dinner? - 1:15pm

Sighing, I finally set down the phone, dropping my head in my palms. I refuse to let my marriage fail. I decided to visit him at work, and perhaps gently demand that he talk to me. Something must be going on.

"Cooper." I turn to find Denzel, both hands in his pockets staring at me.

"Oh, good afternoon Mr. Shear, I'm just gonna take my lunch break."

"I was about to do the same. Shall I join you?"

"Actually, I have plans of visiting my husband so. . ."

"Hint taken," He chuckles. "Do enjoy your time, but not so much so that you're late."

"I'm never late," I assure him, before nodding and walking out.

---

"Sandy," I call at Henry's assistant. "Is Henry in?"

"Good day Mrs. Montigo," She graces me with one of her lovely youthful smiles. "Mr. Montigo is in a short meeting it should be over soon. I'm sure he wouldn't mind you waiting in his office." She suggests although I've done this many times before. . . when we were in love.

Stop thinking like that Cooper, he still loves you.

I push open his office door and notice that our wedding picture was still hung up on his wall. A smile overtook my face, and I couldn't help but feel confident and hopeful.

It didn't take long before he came in, and as usual, his face slightly dropped when he saw me,

"Cooper." He greeted, slowly shutting his door.

"Hey Henry, I texted you, why didn't you answer?"

"Because I'm at work." He says sharply, placing his briefcase on the desk and I clutch my purse, feeling like a fool.

"Right, of course."

"Why are you here?" He raises an eyebrow, sitting.

"I can't visit you? My husband?" I frown.

"Look, Cooper. You can't just show up to my work unannounced." He scolds.

"I used to do it all the time though Henry. . . You used to enjoy my company, what happened?"

"We're not talking about this now-"

"Yes, we are." I fold my arms, irritated.

"When else can we? You're always busy, you're never home, I don't know what to do anymore. I love you Henry, we made a vow to love each other, to keep no secrets, to-"

"Cooper." He calls sternly. "You're being very unprofessional-"

"You are my husband!" I cry out, needing for him to hear me. "I miss you. The old you. You. . . you would call me every morning to make sure I got to work safely, and throughout the day you would text me. . . I would wake up to you cuddling me, I felt loved Henry, I felt protected. Now it's as if I'm disgusting to you. . . it's like. . . it's like you don't love me anymore." I wipe the tear that has fallen, only for it to be followed by more.

"I have to get back to work. We'll talk about this when I get home." I was baffled. "I promise. Now, if you'd excuse me."

Swallowing hard, I spin on my heel, angrily pushing the door open and storming out of the firm. Sandy offered me a look of pity, but I ignored it.

When I got back to my workplace, I tried my best to ignore the eyes of everyone who seemed to quiet down as I passed. Even Ben had nothing to say.

"You're back, I need you to review the records of Gorden Mark of the financial department, something seems fishy about him." I found Denzel In my office, and he didn't look up at me which I was thankful for.

"No problem," I squeaked. "Excuse me for a moment." I rushed to the bathroom connected to try and clear out my face. It worked a bit, and soon my eyes were back to normal.

"Are you alright?" He queries, looking down at me.

"Huh? Of course, I'm fine." I force a small laugh, before plopping onto my chair. "I'll get to work now."

He eyes me for a few more seconds before nodding. "Very well."

- - -

"Have a good night, Mrs. Montigo."

"Say Hi to the kids for me Remi." I grin at the kind doorman, who tips his hat at me. Remi was a single father of four, whose wife had left him for another man. He's already 50 and struggling at that. Now and then I'd help him out in any way I could.

I got into my Matte black Maserati Ghibili, and practically sped home eager to make dinner. I decided something simple would suffice, and made homemade pizza which I knew Henry loved. I topped it off with a bottle of Chateau Margaux wine, which was almost equal to the pay a doctor makes in 6 months and wore a black silk robe over matching lingerie. We were going to talk it out and make it better. I was sure of it.

But he never came home.

And once again, I blew out the candles with tears streaming down my face, and the refrigerator sadly shining its light on me as I placed leftovers inside of it.

I climbed into bed, not even bothering to change, and felt the cold sheets mock me, remind me of my loneliness. I clutched the pillow tightly, as I cried into it, and tried to shun any feelings of rejection and hurt.

Desperately, I clung onto the idea that he was just working late, a lawyer gets no rest. But as the snell of alcohol climbed into bed with my husband, I decided that this lawyer probably had a case with liquor.

For the first time in months, his hands wrapped around my waist, his alcohol stained breath crashed against my neck as he hummed tiredly in my ear.

"You're right. I don't love you anymore." He whispers, and my heart drops in my chest. Tears immediately sprung to my eyes, and I was at an utmost lost for words. Yet nothing could prepare me for what came next.

"But I have a way you can fix it."

"Anything," I replied, not missing a beat. This was my husband, I was his wife.

To have and to hold,

for better and for worse,

for richer. . . and for poorer. . .

in sickness, and in health. . .

to love . . .

and to cherish. . .

till death. . . . .

do us part.