You Are My Star

Chapter 2 Sign the Papers When You are Satisfied

His movements were nowhere near gentle...it was rough and full of hatred. Not a single word was exchanged during the whole process.

Nancy broke into tears, but she kept quiet, refusing to let a single sob escape her.

When he finished, she was still lying on her stomach, choking on her own tears, her thin form trembling from pain.

She heard Tim's cold voice from above: "Satisfied?"

“……”

"Sign the papers when you are satisfied."

"You're drunk?" She asked, supporting herself with shaking arms and getting into a position of kneeling.

"None of your business."

"You should quit drinking. It's too much for your stomach."

"I can't bring myself to touch you without getting drunk. The mere thought of it is disgusting."

Nancy tasted blood in her mouth. She frowned using the bedsheets to wipe the corner of her mouth, and allowed the pain of the heart to consume her.

She asked in a gentle voice, pretending nothing happened: "You came back really quick. I assume the traffic was not heavy?"

Tim had already cleaned himself up. He was sitting in the shadow, smoking.

Upon hearing the question, he answered dryly: "Nothing slows me down when it comes to the divorce."

"You want it that bad?"

She sat with her back to him, choking in the smoke.

"Yeah, that bad. But you knew that already, didn't you?" Tim puffed out the smoke in her direction; a strange feeling of satisfaction struck him as he watched her thin form shaking from coughs. "I've held up my end of the bargain. It's time for you to do the same. I want the paperwork done first thing in the morning."

"No, you haven't. I asked for a night. A whole night."

Tim snuffed out the cigar and sneered: "Nancy Roberts, you're a fu**ing who*e."

When did she fall in love with him?

Nancy found she couldn't recall.

She only remembered their families had been close for generations, and they grew up together. Everyone had been expecting their marriage ever since they were little.

And Tim had been really nice to her back then. He would always carry those star-shaped candies with him, because she had hypoglycemia--a condition of low blood sugar--and whenever she felt unwell, he'd put a candy in her mouth.

And when they were in school, he would take away all the love letters she received, even before she read any of them; and then, he would tell her, gravely and a little jealously, that there were a lot of bad guys out there, that only he was the best. And when it was near her birthdays, he would fold paper stars, lots of them, to put in a jar and give to her as birthday presents.

Then she would say to him, like a spoilt little girl that she was: "These stars are fake. I want real ones."

Tim would pinch her nose affectionately: "I'll get some for you."

"But they're up in the sky. You can't get them."

"I can, because I'm getting them for you."

"You're lying."

"Nancy, I'll get the stars the day you marry me."

Why did she miss those days so much? Was it what everyone else was thinking on their deathbed, the best days in their life?

Nancy traced the bloodstain on the bedsheets with her fingers. And for the first time in her life, she felt she couldn't take it anymore. Hadn't she learned when everything good was taken from her, that the odds were never in her favor?