Hard to speak of happiness

I’d been married to Henry Harrison for eight years.

He’d brought ninety-nine women home during that time.

I stared at number one hundred, a young, pretty girl, standing in my living room.

She looked at me defiantly, then turned to Henry.

“Honey, is this your useless wife everyone talks about?”

Henry leaned back in his chair, a lazy “Yep” escaping his lips.

The girl sauntered over and patted my cheek, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Tonight, you’ll learn what a real woman sounds like.”

That night, I was forced to listen to their moans echoing through the house.

The next morning, Henry, as usual, told me to make breakfast.

I refused.

He seemed to have forgotten our marriage was a business arrangement.

And today was three days before the contract ended.

Henry looked surprised by my refusal.

It was the first time in eight years I’d denied him anything.

He sized me up, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Mia Williams, did last night fry your brain or something?”

I stayed silent, my gaze unwavering.

After a moment, my stare seemed to unnerve him.

He waved a dismissive hand.

“Fine, don't make it. Stop staring, it's creepy.”

He called the housekeeper to prepare breakfast.

Yesterday’s girl sashayed towards me, a triumphant grin on her face.

“So, how was the show last night? Exciting?”

Before she could continue, Henry pulled her back.

“Don't be rude. Go get ready for breakfast.”

She just raised an eyebrow at me, her eyes brimming with smugness.

At the breakfast table, Henry and the girl were all over each other.

I kept my head down, my mind racing, planning my escape.

Suddenly, I felt a tap on my arm.

I looked up to see Henry standing there, a frown etched on his face.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

I hesitated for a second before answering honestly.

“I'm thinking about what to do next.”

Henry scoffed.

“What can you do? Besides cleaning and cooking, you're useless.”

His words, dripping with disdain, didn't even sting anymore.

I’d become immune to his insults over the years.

For eight years, I’d revolved my life around him, neglecting my own dreams and aspirations.

I’d almost forgotten who I used to be.

Eight years ago, my mother was critically ill, and I desperately needed money.

Henry appeared like a knight in shining, albeit slightly tarnished, armor.

He offered me five hundred thousand dollars.

The price? Marrying him, becoming his beard for the Harrison family.

For my mother, I agreed.

For eight years, I'd watched him parade a string of women through our home.

Once, drunk, he’d looked at me with unusual seriousness.

“Mia, we're from different worlds. Don't get any ideas.”

I used to think he was incapable of love.

Then, last year, I learned about his deceased first love, Jennifer.

Yesterday's girl bore a striking resemblance to Jennifer.

So, seeing them together at breakfast didn’t surprise me.

It just solidified my resolve to leave.

Henry snapped his fingers in front of my face, pulling me from my thoughts...