When Love Becomes a Cage (Melanie)

"Melanie, when did you become so unreasonable? You think threatening divorce will make up for the losses from you abandoning your post?" Clyde shouted, "If it's money you want, work for it. Don't act as if you own the Patterson Group."

Clyde's grip loosened. His frown remained persistent, looking like I was making a fuss over nothing. His words baffled me, seemingly forgetting I was his wife, and naturally, I had a stake in the company. But I didn't want to argue.

I shrugged. "When did I become so indispensable? How did the Patterson Group manage without me?"

"If I'm that crucial, my salary is a joke. Too low." I pushed him aside, tossing my bag onto the couch.

He disliked my attitude, gripping my wrist again, then paused. "You've lost weight again? Haven't you been eating?"

Surprised he noticed, I scoffed, unwilling to respond. I lost my appetite, and the doctor said chemotherapy might worsen it, but I had to eat, or I'd collapse. Looking at my reddened wrist, I sighed softly. I was indeed too thin. I might have a fracture next time.

"Melanie, can't you stop this? You're the head of the Design Department. There's so much waiting for your approval. You can't just leave work like this."

Clyde's annoying tone forced a retort from me. "So? Why didn't you pick up Jake's calls? Right, you didn't take mine, either. Kayla said you were busy."

I faced him with no expression, seeing surprise and a hint of panic in his eyes, which quickly turned to anger. "Melanie, I had an important meeting this afternoon. Stop making a scene."

"Why is it always someone else's fault with you? Can't you ever reflect on yourself? You were never like this in college. Why push everything onto the innocent now?"

I watched him rage, feeling utterly calm. I seemed to have forgotten my college days. Did he even remember? Was I, then, not innocent? Did I deserve all this?

Closing my eyes, I felt tears well up. College was different because Clyde believed in me unconditionally back then. When my thesis got falsely accused of plagiarism, it could've been the best, yet I was under investigation.

Everyone thought I, the rich girl, bought someone else's work, especially since my accuser was a hardworking student from a poor background, making her words seem more credible.

She insisted my thesis was a revision of hers, and even my advisor doubted me. I felt my world collapsing. Whether I could graduate was one thing, and being falsely accused was another.

Only a few friends stood by me. Clyde was missing for a week, only occasionally contacting me, until he showed up with video evidence and my discarded draft notes, proving my innocence.

He had hacked into the school's surveillance with some classmates to find evidence of the theft and dug through the trash for my notes. For a whole week, he barely slept, reeking when he finally appeared.

bel.re

But didn't care. I embracenim

tightly. He was my light, the one I'd always acknowledge.

But at the time, his eyes held distrust for me, and I turned away.

People change, a lesson I knew since childhood but only truly understood then.

Suddenly, warm liquid flowed from my nose, and I covered it with a tissue, but blood seeped through.

Clyde looked at me, panicked, quickly reaching for tissues. "What's happening? What's wrong with you?"

His shaky voice and horrified look

seemed genuine. He always confused me with his actions, bringing other women home, telling me he didn't love me, and then

showing concern when I least

expected it.

I pushed him away, covering my nose. "It's your infuriating behavior. I'd live longer without seeing you. Otherwise, you and your flings might be the death of me."

It was the truth. The doctor said stress could worsen my condition.Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

Clyde's face went through several emotions before settling on a clenched jaw. "Fine by me! Mel, even if you begged me, I wouldn't care Don't just talk about nosebleeds. Even if you were dying, I wouldn't spare you a glance!"

He grabbed his coat, slamming the door behind him. As the door clicked shut, my already dead heart ached anew. I let the blood drip, staining my shirt.

I thought, 'Clyde, don't you know about self-fulfilling prophecies? Maybe your words would come true after all.'