The night everything changed

As soon as I saw it, I knew what needed to be done. I left without a second thought.

I ran straight into the pouring rain and was soaked within seconds. I shivered and pulled my cloak tighter, but the buttons were broken and I couldn’t close it properly. One was missing, and the rest hung from loose threads. A cold draft slipped through, the wind flowing freely.

But it didn’t matter. I needed to keep going, but with each step, water dripped from the ends of my dark curls. There was nowhere to hide from the swarming clouds that hung overhead.

I was exposed.

I kept running until I reached the home of the stranger I met four months earlier. He hadn’t heard from me since, and he would be surprised to see me. After our night together, he’d tried to convince me to see him again. I had said no, and yet, here I was. But I shouldn’t have been. I was afraid of what would happen.

A storm was brewing, looming in the air, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was a warning directed at me. I had taken the first steps towards a new reality.

If my husband found out, he would lock me up…or worse, leave me bruised, beaten, and bloodied. I still remember the sound from last time. How his belt carved into my skin. The stinging pain that lingered for days.

He had hurt me and left a mark that would never fully heal. I had no idea what he would do if he found out I slept with someone else. The marriage wasn’t my choice though. I protested. I tried to leave. But my family wouldn’t let me.

I had never cared for my husband, and for that, I had paid the price.

I hadn’t slept with him since he started hurting me, and luckily, he had never forced me. He struck me for it, but I never caved. He could mark my skin all he wanted, but he could never have my body. Nor my heart.

It was my own way of revolting against his oppressive behavior. We got married about three years ago, and about two months in, it started.

When my husband began working night shifts, I took the opportunity to leave the house at night. I should’ve left. But I didn’t know where to go.

That’s when I met him. The one who stood out in a room full of people. A man with green eyes, the color of summer and emeralds, sparkling with a sharp, cutting beauty. With just one look, he had hooked me.

Still, I didn’t confront him. I ordered a drink and turned away. But he wouldn’t let me. Only minutes later, he came up to me and asked me to dance. The dance floor was empty, but he didn’t seem to mind. I raised a brow, as if to say, really? And he smiled then, all his white, perfect teeth showing.

It started with me taking his hand and ended with me waking up in his bed. I hurried out of bed; I needed to get home before my husband. The man beneath the red silken sheets stopped me and grasped my hand. He didn't know about my marriage. How could I have told him about my husband without telling him of the pain he'd caused me? But he'd seen the scars, and he'd understood then. It was something I wouldn't talk about, not until I was ready.

“Stay,” he whispered, almost sadly, as if I had hurt him by leaving.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, and kissed him before running away.

Now, months later, I stood outside his door and knocked.

I waited. A second turned to seconds, and then the door opened.

He stood in front of me, and a smile broke out, but I saw sadness there. It reminded me of the pain in his eyes when I left, with no plans to ever return. I hoped he would forgive me now, because if he didn’t, I would have no one.

But then… he stretched out his hand and pulled me toward him. A warmth took hold and spread through me like fire — only it didn’t burn, it seemed to heal me from the pain I’d endured. It made me smile.

"I was wondering when you'd return," he said softly. "I couldn’t find you… and I needed to know you were safe."

"Why?" I asked and dared a step closer to him, feeling my pulse quicken.

"Seeing your bruises and scars… it didn’t sit right with me."

I relaxed as his arms wrapped around me, a long-needed hug that instantly put me at ease.

I leaned in, breathed him in — his scent of cedar and jasmine, earthy and sweet at the same time. I let my lids fall closed for a moment. I hardly knew the man, but he was one of the few who had treated me with kindness.

Would that change once he knew the truth?

“I have something to tell you.”

“What’s that?” he whispered against my hair.

A lump formed in my throat, and my mouth went dry, as if I hadn’t had water for days.

I took a deep breath then, and said what I had come here to say.

“I’m pregnant. I mean… we are.”

For a moment, the silence spoke louder than words ever could, but then he held me tighter and his happiness consumed me.

I felt safe.

Then the most extraordinary thing happened. As if my emotions controlled the weather; the rain stopped and clouds dissipated. I spun in his arms and was hit with bright sunlight, casting me in a golden hue.

For the moment, I let myself smile.