Dear Husband My Turn To Love You

I crouched on the icy marble floor, my knees throbbing in agony as I scrubbed with the last remnants of my strength. A sharp, burning pain pulsed through my arms and legs, a brutal reminder of the countless hours I had spent doing this, not just today, but every single day since I became Theo Ivan's wife.

This was my life now. Cleaning, scrubbing, cooking, an endless cycle of chores that Theo insisted were for my own good.

"You need this," he'd said with that charming smile of his, shortly after firing all the maids. "It'll help you lose weight and stay active."

I had believed him. What choice did I have?

I paused, panting like I'd just run a marathon. My chest heaved, my body trembling, begging me to stop, to rest. But I didn't. I couldn't.

How long can I keep doing this? The thought gnawed at me as I wiped sweat from my forehead. Slowly, I stood, wincing as pain lanced through my knees like needles piercing bone. Swallowing the groan rising in my throat, I forced myself upright and surveyed the space I had just cleaned.

The floor sparkled under the light of the chandelier. It was spotless. Perfect. At least it was worth it, I thought bitterly. With a shaky breath, I gathered the cleaning tools and trudged toward the janitor's closet. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if my body were collapsing under the weight of its own exhaustion.

But I kept moving. I had to. These chores weren't just tasks, they were my lifeline. My only way to get in shape. My only way to keep Theo happy.

I dumped the tools into the closet and leaned against the door, my mind drifting to the memories that had brought me here. Memories I had tried so hard to bury.

I was always too much. Too big, too heavy, too wrong.

With a BMI of 30, I didn't fit into society's rigid mold of beauty. And because of that, I didn't fit into anyone's idea of love, either.

My first date? A disaster. I had met him at one of New York's finest restaurants, desperate to impress. I wore a dress so tight it bit into my skin, the fabric digging into my ribs with every step.

But all my efforts had been in vain. The moment he saw me, his face twisted in disgust. He barely masked his displeasure, staying through dinner only because he realized I was footing the bill. Afterward, he left without a goodbye, leaving me alone at the table, humiliated and broken.

That night, I cried myself to sleep in my mother's arms, the only person who never judged me. But even she wasn't mine for long. Fate took her and my father from me in a car accident, leaving me alone with nothing but their memory and the fortune they left behind.

Until Theo.

Theo was a miracle. The first man who looked at me without flinching. He didn't judge me for my size, my looks, or my inheritance. When he saw me...

He showered me with the kind of love I had only dreamed of. He held my hand in public, unbothered by the stares and whispers. "I love you," he'd say, loud enough for the world to hear, gripping my hand as if daring anyone to challenge him.

But love, I realized too late, can be a cruel illusion.

By the time I finished preparing his favorite breakfast, I heard the sound of his footsteps. My heart lifted instinctively, my body responding to the thought of him before my mind could catch up.

"My love, I made your favorite," I said, my voice warm as I approached him. I leaned in for our customary morning kiss.