A Love Unwritten

The house was silent, as it was most of the time. The low hum of the air conditioner rumbled through the empty house, a constant reminder of the hollowness that had always dwelled within its walls. This house had been her home for four long years, but it had never felt like it. It was a gilded cage, a space where she breathed, ate, and slept, but was never truly happy.

She sat at the small desk in her room, her eyes fixed on the blank sheet of paper in front of her. The pen cradled in her hand shook a little as she tightened her grip on it. A heavy weight dropped into her chest as the weight of the last four years came crashing down upon her in a single wave. Her mind tumbled back to the day it all started.

He had approached her when she was twenty. His proposal had been blunt, almost robotic. "I need to get married to access some assets for my company," he had said, his tone cold and detached. "You need money for your education and your brother's medical bills. This arrangement could benefit both of us."

She had been too stunned to respond, so he continued. "I've seen you on campus. You keep to yourself. You seem responsible and discreet. That's what I need."

He wasn't wrong. She had always been quiet, the type of girl who blended into the background. At the time, her focus had been on surviving-keeping her grades up, working part-time jobs, and taking care of her younger brother.

"I don't understand," she had finally managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You need help," he had replied bluntly. "And I need a wife. It's simple."

She should have refused. She should have turned her back on him. But how could she? The health of her brother had been deteriorating; his medical expenses had begun to accumulate, and she was on the verge of quitting college; the prospect of financial security had been too alluring to turn down.

And so, she did.

Their marriage had been subdued. There had been no promises of love made, no moments of tenderness to treasure. From the very start, he had set the pattern: separate rooms, no personal ties, and no illusions as to what their relationship was.

Now, four years later, she was wondering if she had done the right thing.

She gripped the pen firmly and began to write.

Dear Adam,

I don't know if you'll ever understand this, but I have to go. Four years, I've been with you, but now it's just very clear: we were never meant to be more than two strangers in the same house. Thank you for everything you have done for me, taking me through college and financing my brother's health problems, but I can no longer keep going on like this. I am tired of feeling invisible, of being treated like I don't exist. I know you might not care, and that's OK. I just hope someday you find somebody who makes you happy. Thank you for everything. Goodbye.

She put down the pen and looked at the words, her eyes blurred by unshed tears. The past four years replayed in her mind like a silent movie. There were nights she had dinner alone while he was out at work. The mornings when they passed each other in the hall, like fleeting shadows. The times she had tried to reach out, only to be met by his cold indifference.

There were momentary occasions when she thought she saw cracks in his cold exterior-moments when his eyes would soften, and for an instant, it appeared as though he was about to say something, before he would draw back into his shell. But those moments passed quickly and left her more confused than comforted.

Even his family had managed to make her feel like an outsider. His father barely acknowledged her, and his mother's polite smiles never seemed to reach her eyes. The only one who had shown her any real kindness was his younger sister, Emma, but she was studying fashion abroad, and her visits were rare.

She had endured it all, persuading herself that it would get better. But it hadn't. And now, she's wasted enough time waiting.

The letter was finished, but her hands wouldn't let go of the pen. She stared at it, hoping against hope that somehow the ink would realign itself into words that would make him understand her pain. But miracles weren't real, and Adam wasn't the kind of man who cared.

The clock ticked on, and finally, she folded the letter neatly and placed it on his desk, where she knew he would see it when he came home.

Her suitcase was packed and sat by the door. She hadn't taken much, just a few clothes and some personal items. Most of her belongings didn't feel like hers anyway.

Before leaving, she took one last look around the room. It suddenly seemed strange to her how empty it looked, with all its fine furnishings and gilded ornaments. This emptiness was more than just physical; it had seeped into her very being.

She stepped outside, the cool evening air embracing her face like a soothing balm. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to steady herself. Suddenly, her phone buzzed in her pocket, jolting her with surprise. It was a message from her younger brother, Liam.

"Can you come to Grandma's tomorrow? I need help with my science project."

A gentle smile graced her lips. Liam was the reason she had withstood so much for so long. At the age of twelve, he was a radiant, joyful boy, brimming with life despite the hurdles he had encountered.

"Of course," she responded. "I'll be there."

For a brief moment, a flicker of hope ignited within her. Perhaps leaving Adam was the initial stride towards reclaiming her life. Perhaps, just perhaps, happiness awaited her once more.

As she drove away from the house that had never truly felt like home, she murmured softly to herself, "Goodbye."

Her phone buzzed yet again, this time displaying an unknown number. She paused, uncertainty washing over her before she decided to answer.

"Mrs. Crawford," came the voice on the other end, cold and formal. "This is Mr. Levin, your lawyer. The papers are ready for finalization. Are you still proceeding with the divorce?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice unwavering even as a storm brewed within her.

"Good. Bring them to my office tomorrow, and we'll finalize everything."

As she hung up the phone, a sense of utter finality washed over her. This was it-the end of a chapter that had defined her life for the last four years.

While she didn't know what lay ahead, she felt a complete determination to find out.

Everything would change tomorrow.