Page 15 of His Son's Wife
I zoomed into her face. Something I had done thousands of times.
Bright eyes, shining. Plump lips spread wide. Those white teeth beaming at a future she thought she understood.
She would smile again. Be carefree again. The girl in this photograph wasn’t gone—she was simply buried under two years of him.
Under my care, she would flourish.
I locked the phone and set it face down on the desk.
The first set of rules were implemented.
More would follow.
???
The loose fitting sports apparel I’d bought for her was practical. Necessary for now.
But there was so much more that I’d squirrelled away.
All the type of pretty dresses she used to wear. The timeless classics. The vibrant ones for when she felt daring. The everyday pastels that suited her colouring in a way she’d probably never been told.
The physio therapist adjusted her posture and they worked through her breathing again.
I quietly closed the door to the gym.
I could have monitored her from the camera. It would have been easier. But seeing her in person was so much better after years of seeing her only on screen.
One day she would go back to being the princess she was.
That’s why she was in the princess room.
The one next to mine.
???
“Don’t you have a job?” she asked in between bites.
“I spent years creating wealth. All my work requires now is an internet connection,” I said, scooping more fresh strawberry ice cream onto the spoon. My work was a little more complex than that—but she didn’t need to concern herself with the possibility of me leaving.
She opened her mouth and for a moment her hand closed over mine as she licked the spoon. Her eyes met mine.
The swelling was gone. The black had faded to purple, edged with green and a hint of yellow beneath her olive skin. The deep bronze she’d carried when she used to be in the sun was gone entirely. Every part of her seemed to have wilted—like something that had been kept from light for too long.
Her hand released mine as she swallowed.
Her lashes lowered.
“Will you be taking a nap this afternoon?” I asked, scooping up the remnants.
“Will you tuck me in?” she whispered, tugging at her sleeve before tucking both hands inside it. Hiding in plain sight.
“Anything for my princess,” I said, raising the spoon.
She never mentioned the rules.
I never mentioned the rules.
Yet every day she grew more compliant. Every day she pushed back in small ways.
