The Second Marriage Chance

“Did you ever, even once, imagine yourself loving me?” Sarah inquired, her voice laced with hope as she gazed into Philip’s unyielding countenance.

“Don’t make me laugh, Sarah. Everything between us has been purely about pleasure and business.”

With a heavy heart, she affixed her signature to the divorce papers, clinging to a glimmer of hope that one day, she would find a man who would adore and worship her worthiness.This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

***

Sarah

On a quiet night at Serenity Pines Estate, where I’ve made my home for three years, the door’s ‘click’ announced my husband’s arrival-Philip Cornell, who’s competing for the presidency of Luminary Productions, an entertainment company.

Rising from the sofa, my customary perch, where I often waited for his return, I glanced at the wall clock; its hands whispered the lateness of the hour-already one in the morning.

The heavy wooden door swung open, revealing Philip’s unsteady form. A waft of alcohol preceded him, mingling with the stillness of the night. His arm draped over the shoulder of his assistant, Alexander Davies.

“What happened to him?” was the question I managed to ask Alex.

“Madam, I’m truly sorry. Something happened. Boss Philip had drunk too much,” he replied. He refrained from offering further details, as was often the case, despite my desire to express concerns about the increasing frequency of Philip’s drunken returns in recent days.

“Please help me! Let’s take him to the room.”

Alex and I worked in tandem, helping Philip to the bedroom. With his considerably heavier body in contrast to my own, which was significantly smaller, I felt as though my bones might shatter and bruises would surely mark my skin.

Both Alex and I were panting heavily as we carefully laid his boss down on the bed.

“Th-thank you!”

With a simple smile, the assistant made his way toward the door, poised to leave Serenity Pines Estate. It was a rare moment of conversation between us, akin to those I share with my husband, Philip.

I gingerly removed Philip’s shoes and socks, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Next came his polo, a task I could only accomplish in his unconscious state.

How long had I harbored these forbidden fantasies about him? My husband, so physically near yet emotionally distant, bound by the unspoken rule that we mustn’t intrude upon each other’s lives.

As I finally succeeded in stripping off his polo, he vomited violently, the acrid stench filling the air. My stomach churned in sympathy, threatening to betray me as well. With sheer willpower, I fought back the urge to vomit as my tears of frustration pooling in my eyes.

We do not employ household help, primarily because of my personal preference. However, maids from the Cornell household visit three times a week to assist with cleaning at Serenity Pines Estate.

I cleaned up the sour and nauseating mess he had expelled from his mouth beside the bed.

Three years ago, my mother-in-law asserted that our duty as women was to serve our husbands. I hoped that by fulfilling this duty, Philip would notice or perhaps view me as a woman who loves him deeply.

As I gathered cleaning supplies to tackle the mess, tears welled in my eyes, swept up by the overwhelming weight of the situation I found myself in.

How much longer must I endure this? How much longer will I tolerate waiting for the overflowing love I’ve poured into my husband to be reciprocated?

Yet, amidst this turmoil, there’s Philip, whom I cherish deeply. I’ve already relinquished so much for him, will his mere sickly discharge be the breaking point for my resolve?

After meticulously scrubbing every inch of the floor and banishing any lingering odors from the room, I proceeded to the wardrobe in search of his pyjamas.

Within a cabinet, I noticed an unfamiliar, expensive-looking box. Curiosity piqued, I lifted the lid, revealing a stunning necklace adorned with a captivating blue sapphire encircled by delicate diamonds.

Tomorrow marks our third wedding anniversary, a fact that fills me with palpable excitement. Could this be Philip’s surprise for me?

Our relationship is somewhat low-key. It’s quiet mostly because I try not to complicate things for Philip as his wife. Moreover, despite the knowledge of a select few individuals about our relationship, I remain virtually unknown to the public in his life.

As I returned to bed, I found solace in gazing upon his innocent face, a privilege I only enjoy on nights such as these before drifting into slumber.

I awoke after several hours to the sensation of someone tenderly kissing my neck and gently squeezing my chest, igniting warmth that surged through every vein of my body.

Philip’s tender affection never fails to stir excitement and happiness within me. Each touch is a symphony of pleasure, a delightful melody that resonates deep within. Yet, beyond our intimate moments, deciphering his thoughts is like navigating through a labyrinth in the dark.

The haunting memories of the previous night inundated my thoughts, their weight pressing heavily upon me. Yet, amidst this tumultuous sea of recollection, overshadowed by his sweet worship of me.

***

“Sarah!” my mother-in-law’s voice echoed through the kitchen as I busied myself with cleaning. Philip had left early, and he was no longer beside me when I woke up.

“Mrs. Cornell?” I sighed inwardly, accustomed to her impromptu visits to Serenity Pines Estate, always ensuring I adequately tended to her son’s needs. She often invited friends along, as Philip’s father maintained strict control over visitors to the Cornell mansion.

Mr. Cornell is a commanding figure both at home and in his marriage, while Mrs. Cornell prefers to keep the nature of their relationship discreet. Therefore, she consistently disrupts my peace whenever she extends invitations to her friends, encroaching upon the sanctity of my own home.

Surrounded by five other ladies at the round table, they were deeply engrossed in gossiping and playing cards, and despite this being my home, shared with Philip, the weight of unspoken thoughts pressed upon my mind, shackling my voice in silent submission.

“Hello, ladies!” I greeted them with forced cheerfulness, though part of me longed to request they not visit, as their presence only added to my workload and noise levels.

“Hello, Sarah!” one of the ladies responded, while the others seemed to ignore my existence entirely.

“Why are you just standing there? Hurry up and prepare tea and snacks for us!” Mrs. Cornell’s reprimand cut through the air.

As a dutiful daughter-in-law, I quickly went to the kitchen to fulfill her requests. Once the preparations were complete, I rejoined the group of ladies, placing tea cups, cookies, and wrapped biscuits on the table before returning to attend to some household chores. However, as I busied myself, I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.

“Oh, did you hear? Megan’s back,” Mrs. Wilson mentioned casually.

My grip faltered, and a delicate vase slipped from my fingers, shattering on the floor.

“What on earth, Sarah? Are you intent on destroying every precious belonging of my son in this house?! My goodness! Do you even realize that the vase was imported from Japan? I highly doubt you could even afford to replace it!” Mrs. Cornell scolded, her voice laced with anger.

“I-I’m terribly sorry! I’ll clean it up right away,” I stammered.

I could sense her seething rage as if she wanted to slap me or yank my hair, but she held back, mindful of her guests’ presence.

‘Megan… Megan…’ The name reverberated in my mind as I carefully tidied up the shattered remnants of the vase. The sharp sting of a glass shard pierced my finger, causing a jolt of pain to shoot through me. Despite the tiny bead of blood, I brushed aside the discomfort, too engrossed in my thoughts to pay it much attention.

Anxiety gnawed at me. Megan is Philip’s ex-fiancee.

I couldn’t shake off the unsettling thought of Philip’s recent drunken escapades. Could Megan’s sudden reappearance be the cause?