Broken Marriage of Convenience

Helena Morrison sat in the dimly lit living room, her frail body shivering despite the warmth of the afternoon sun streaming through the windows. The once-vibrant 32-year-old had become a shadow of herself, weakened by the relentless progression of cancer. The house was eerily silent, a stark contrast to the noise and chaos of the New York streets outside.

She glanced at the clock, anxiety gnawing at her insides. Sergey Novikov, her husband, would be home soon. Their marriage, arranged years ago out of convenience and family pressure, had never been one of love. Helena's father had needed Sergey to stabilize the family business, and Sergey had needed the financial support. Over time, Helena had tried to bridge the emotional gap, but Sergey remained indifferent, cold, and increasingly distant.

The sound of the front door opening made Helena's heart leap. Sergey entered, his expression as detached as always. He was tall, handsome, and impeccably dressed, but there was an air of aloofness that chilled her to the bone. Without acknowledging her, he walked towards the closet and grabbed his coat.

"Sergey," Helena called out, her voice trembling with both sickness and desperation. "Can you stay for the evening? I... I really need you here tonight."

Sergey stopped, his back to her, and sighed heavily. When he finally turned around, his eyes were devoid of any compassion. "I'm going to see Gabrielle," he stated flatly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Helena's heart sank at the mention of his mistress, Gabrielle, who was pregnant with his child. The betrayal stung deeply, but the truth was, Sergey had never pretended to love her. Their marriage was a transaction, nothing more. Still, the reality of his words was a bitter pill to swallow.

"Please, Sergey," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm not feeling well. I just... I just need you here tonight."

Sergey rolled his eyes, his impatience barely concealed. "Helena, we've been through this. Our marriage was a business deal. Your father needed me to save his company, and I needed the money. Love was never part of the equation."

Helena's eyes brimmed with tears as she looked at the man who had been her husband in name only. She had tried so hard to make him care, to make their marriage mean something, but it was all for nothing. "I know," she said, her voice breaking. "But it doesn't make it hurt any less."

Sergey sighed again, clearly irritated. "Helena, I don't have time for this. Gabrielle is expecting me. She needs me."

"And what about me?" Helena's voice rose slightly, a mixture of pain and frustration. "I'm your wife. I'm here, suffering alone. You don't even notice how sick I am. Don't you care at all?"

Sergey's eyes narrowed slightly. "You're always making everything about you. Your father blackmailed me into this marriage. I didn't want this life, but I had no choice. Now I'm trapped in this loveless charade while you cling to some pathetic hope that I'll change. Well, I won't. I need to be with someone who actually matters to me."

Helena's breath caught in her throat. She knew he was cold, but hearing his words cut deeper than any physical pain. "I just wanted... I just needed one night where I wasn't alone."

"You're always alone, Helena. That's the reality. Accept it," Sergey said, his voice harsh. "I'll be back later. Don't wait up."

As the door slammed shut behind him, Helena felt the weight of his rejection crush her spirit. She was left alone once more, battling her illness in solitude, her heart shattered by the cold indifference of the man she had tried to love.

__

Helena returned home from another grueling round of chemotherapy, her body weak and wracked with nausea. Every step felt like a monumental effort, but she pushed herself forward, determined to make it through the evening. Tonight was the charity ball for the orphanage where Sergey had grown up, a place that held special significance for both of them. They had each contributed to different projects over the years, and despite their fractured relationship, Helena felt a duty to be there, perhaps for the last time.

Dressing herself in a simple yet elegant gown, she looked in the mirror and saw a ghost of her former self. Her once lustrous hair had thinned, her skin was pallid, and her eyes, though still a striking dark brown, were shadowed with fatigue and pain. Yet, she held her head high, trying to muster the strength and grace she once had.

The ballroom was modest but beautifully decorated, filled with people who had come to support the orphanage. Helena felt a pang of nostalgia as she entered, remembering better times when she and Sergey had worked together for these events, sharing moments that, fleeting as they were, gave her hope. Tonight, though, she felt a sense of foreboding.

She navigated the room with a practiced smile, exchanging pleasantries with donors and volunteers. Her eyes searched for Sergey, but he was nowhere to be seen. As the evening wore on, Helena found herself growing weaker, the nausea from her treatment gnawing at her insides. She excused herself to get some fresh air, hoping the cool night would revive her.

Stepping outside, she leaned against a pillar, taking deep breaths. The night was still, the air crisp. She closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of peace. But her respite was short-lived.

"Helena," a voice called out, sharp and filled with barely contained fury. Helena opened her eyes to see Gabrielle approaching, her elegant figure clad in a stunning red dress that highlighted her pregnant belly. There was a fierce intensity in Gabrielle's eyes, and Helena felt a chill run down her spine.

"Gabrielle," Helena greeted her, trying to keep her voice steady. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Of course you didn't," Gabrielle snapped, her voice low and venomous. "You never expect anything, do you? You just float through life, pretending everything is fine while you hold Sergey hostage."

Helena blinked, taken aback. "I don't understand. Sergey is free to do as he pleases."

Gabrielle laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound. "Free? He's tied to you because of your father's ridiculous conditions. He can't leave you until you either die or turn thirty-five. Do you know how unbearable it is for us? For him?"

Helena's heart ached at the words, but she remained calm. "I never wanted to trap anyone. I've tried to make the best of our situation."

"Well, your 'best' isn't good enough," Gabrielle hissed, stepping closer. "I am tired of waiting for you to die, Helena. Sergey deserves to be happy, and so do I. But we can't be, not while you're still in the picture."

Helena felt a wave of dizziness and reached out to steady herself against the pillar. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Gabrielle. I never wanted to cause pain. I just..."

"Save your pity," Gabrielle interrupted, her voice icy. "You're the reason for our suffering. But not for much longer."

There was something in Gabrielle's tone that set off alarm bells in Helena's mind. "What do you mean?"

Gabrielle's eyes flashed with a dangerous light. "Sergey and I have a plan, Helena. A plan that ensures we don't have to wait until you're gone naturally."

Helena's eyes widened in shock. "What are you saying? What plan?"

Before she could process Gabrielle's words, the model's expression twisted with rage. "You should have just died quietly," she spat, shoving Helena with surprising force. Helena stumbled, her weakened body unable to regain balance, and she fell backwards into the path of an oncoming car.

The world blurred around her, the screech of tires and the impact of metal against flesh registering in a distant, surreal way. Pain exploded through her body, and she lay on the cold asphalt, her vision dimming. She could faintly hear Gabrielle's voice, filled with a twisted satisfaction.

"Goodbye, Helena. Finally."

As darkness closed in, Helena's last thoughts were of Sergey. She wondered if he knew, if he was part of this cruel plan. Her heart ached with unanswered questions and a profound sense of betrayal. And then, she succumbed to the darkness, her body and mind finally giving way to the relentless tide of pain and sorrow.