Marriage For 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.