"My heart was a canvas of scars, painted long before our brush with fate."

"It has always been you, Sandra. It has always been you. I love you . I want to spend forever making you happy," Fergus said, his eyes blazing with emotions as he held unto her hands.

Sandra's gaze froze, her voice icy.

"Fergus." She pulled her hand free.

"What's wrong? Don't you feel it too?" Fergus 's face contorted in desperation.

Sandra's mask slipped, revealing a flicker of pain.

'He must not know, he must not know how my heart burns for him. How much I love him.' She thought.

She had to lie again, spin another lie to chase away this man she clearly could not live without.

She regained control and spoke in the coldest tone possible, her words contradicting her heart.

"What if I told you I don't?" A lie. "That I don't feel anything, Fergus," Another lie. "You're just a distraction. A momentary escape." The biggest lie.

She had no choice.

$$$

It all started in Sandra's European styled villa at the edge of the city.

There she lived as a devoted wife to the wealthy renowned, city's mayor Steph Rogers. They had been married for five years and Sandra had done the best she could to be the best wife to Steph. She was known as the mayor's wife, Madam Rogers and was looked up to by many women.

No one knew the full story about this seemingly perfect couple or what Sandra had to deal with, being married to an emotionless man who she felt regarded her more as a housemate than a wife.

Because sometimes, Sandra wondered whether Steph loved her or whether he had ever once loved her at all.

Did he see her as a partner, one he had feelings for? Or just his wife, whom he married to fulfill human obligations, and who was there to cater to all his needs and produce children for him?

Sandra did not know. There was no real romance between them and it was stifling being with him.

She did not know what he thought of her, and it was always killing her to ask.

Yet, the way his face was always expressionless whenever he spoke to her but would light up when he was with his friends or family, the way he gave her curt answers and short responses, the way he never looked into her eyes whenever he fucked her, simply driving into her almost-dry hole, no sign of pleasure written on his face, suggested that he might not like her after all.

Steph was not a bad husband. He fulfilled all his marital responsibilities, providing for the family and providing protection and guidance in certain aspects. They hardly ever fought, yet they hardly ever spoke.

He was not abusive. He did not look down on her and hurt her in any way.

But the sex. Jeez, the sex was unsatisfactory, leaving Sandra always with a sour aftertaste each time they did it.

Sometimes she preferred they didn't do it at all.

It was night already and Steph returned from yet another business trip. He claimed he had been busy doing mayoral duties and had been away for three weeks. Sandra was all alone at home. Yet when he had arrived, he had not even looked at her when she had greeted him, nor responded to her greeting and just went straight into the bedroom.

"Maybe he's just tired," Sandra told herself.

A few hours later, at midnight, after Steph had rested a little, Sandra called to him as he took off his suit and his tie in preparation for sleep.

"Steph."

"What?" he said, looking back at her.

"Well..."

Sandra held a sex magazine close to her chest, and asked him if they could try out a sex position there. Steph had looked at her with disgust, called her vulgar and stormed out.

$$$

The next day was a weekend, and Sandra met up with her friends as usual. They were Vera , Lily and Katy. She immediately started to complain about her repressed sexual feelings and Steph's obstinacy.

"I can't take it anymore. One more day, and I'm going to grab the first man I see and fuck him!"

"Well, I think you should!" said Vera , grabbing her cup of wine and downing its content, a devious smile on her face.

"Don't listen to her! He's your husband, and fucking another man is committing adultery," said Lily.

"Says who?" said Vera .

"Says the normal one among us."

"What do you mean by that? I'm not the..."

"Both of you cut the crap," said Katy, and then she placed her hand over Sandra's, looking at her affectionately, "Sandra, we're here for you. No matter what decision you take, we'll support you. Don't listen to these airheads."

"But enough of Steph today, Girl! What's up with the 28th birthday celebration!" said Vera excitedly.

They all cheered loudly when Vera said that.

Sandra's birthday was coming very soon.

"That's true. We have not started planning it, and it's in two months! How could we forget?" said

"So what would you have us do? Do you want us to plan the party ourselves or to hire an event planner?"

"Let's plan it ourselves," Sandra replied.

$$$

Preparations for Sandra's birthday party began. The air was brimming with the spirit of festivity and happiness.

Sandra grinned from right to left as she watched her friends take charge of almost everything.

Surprisingly, Steph had allowed for an elaborate birthday and provided enough funds.

At first, it had warmed Sandra's heart.

"Maybe he did care for me after all."

But then he invited all his politician friends, including his political rivals, and Sandra knew that he was using the party as another political ploy again.

But Sandra did not let it dull her spirit because the D-day was only a few weeks away.

$$$

"Urgh! Urgh! Urgh!"

Steph kept grunting as he thrust into her.

Sandra lay on the bed, her face up and her eyes on the ceiling as he fucked her.

She counted the pattern design series on the roof as she had been doing for some minutes. Or, to put it more accurately, for some years.

This was their matrimonial bedroom. It was the only place they ever had sex.

Even though she wanted to tell him that they could try back shots instead of this usual missionary style, Sandra said nothing and simply stared at the ceiling, feeling absolutely nothing except something driving in and out of her pussy.

"Sandra...Sandra."

"What?"

"Are you here? Are you here with me?" he asked her.

Sandra resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, her mind was not with him! It never was!

Sometimes when he fucked her, she concocted imaginations in her head to entertain herself and to distract herself from the pathetic lovemaking.

Steph had never even asked or noticed whether she came or not. He had never given her an orgasm, and he didn't care.

The only times he had given her foreplay were in the first years of the marriage.

Steph grunted loudly as he released. Then he got off her and collapsed on the bed beside her. Sandra felt his eyes on her as she kept lying there, doing nothing.

"Is something making you worried today?" he asked.

"Are you done?" she asked.

"What do you mean by that? Didn't you feel me cum?"

Sandra sighed heavily and turned her back to face him.

"Oh, I didn't notice. My mind was elsewhere."

"What?" he asked.

"Yeah, I didn't notice. Perhaps if you fucked me right, I'd notice that you had cummed with your pathetic dick!" Sandra shouted, her anger and frustration visible.

Steph immediately sat up in bed, shocked.

"Why are you talking like this?!"

"How do you expect me to talk?!" Sandra said, sitting up and glaring at Steph, "You didn't ask if I came either! Hell! You never ask!"

She got and stormed out of the room , slamming the door after her.