Tarian.
“Why did you ask that you meet her first?
What’s there to consider, Tarian?” Dad asks, half laughing like this is some ridiculous misunderstanding.
“Everything, Dad.” My voice cuts through the room sharp and cold.
“We need time.
She needs time.
We need to reconsider things and weigh our options.
You never know how things shift after an investment proposal is made.
And besides, I like to maintain a good relationship with my investors..”
“Yes, Tarian.” Viola interrupts, her voice brittle and sharp as she slams her cutlery against porcelain.
The sound bounces around the dining room.
We all turn to her.
She stares at me, jaw tight, eyes burning.
“A good relationship with everyone but me.” Her laugh comes out hollow.
Bitter and poisoned.
“A good relationship with your parents, my parents, my brother, your investors.
But not with me.
God forbid.”
A sting of guilt slices through my chest.
I try to hide it.
“Viola… Not here.
Not now.”
“Why not?” Her voice cracks into a blade.
“Why not, Tarian?
You don’t want daddy and mummy dearest to know that for years..years…we haven’t lived together as husband and wife?
That you don’t touch me, don’t sleep in the same room, don’t speak unless necessary?”
“Tarian?” Mum whispers like she’s discovering something unspeakable.
I don’t look at her.
I can’t.
My attention stays locked on Viola.
My hands clench.
Unclench.
My jaw ticks.
“Oh, and that isn’t even the best part.” Viola continues, breathing hard, voice shaky but unrelenting.
“He asked for a divorce.
But he couldn’t even ask like a man.
No.
He suggested I contact lawyers so I could file and he’d ‘reward’ me with a settlement.
Like I want his money.”
Her words slam into me.
I close my eyes.
The silence that follows is suffocating.
“Tarian.” Dad’s voice lowers, controlled, disappointed.
“Is this true?”
I don’t turn.
“Tarian?” Mum’s voice again, soft, pleading.
“Please tell me this isn’t true.”
Something in me finally snaps.
“Yes,” I growl, lifting my head to meet their eyes.
“Yes, I asked her to proceed with the divorce.”
Gasps, silence, wide eyes and Viola, she looks like I physically struck her. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
My chest rises and falls violently.
Rage coils in me.
Rage at all of them.
Rage at myself for allowing this to drag on.
Rage at expectations I never asked for.
“My marriage was never mine,” I spit.
“You chose it.
You tied us together because you were obsessed with me having sons.
Obsessed with a lineage.
With keeping your ridiculous legacy alive.”
“Tarian…” Dad starts, but I cut him off.
“No.
You don’t get to talk.”
Mum covers her mouth.
Viola stares, stunned.
“Yes, Viola,” I continue, voice shaking with the weight of buried resentment.
“That’s why they pushed for this marriage.
Sons.
And that’s why, in the beginning, I f*cked you like it was some duty…Some breeding program, hoping you’d get pregnant so they’d leave me the h*ll alone.”
Mum cries out.
Viola trembles.
“When no baby came, I stopped wasting my time.”
The words feel cruel.
They are cruel.
And yet they are the truth, raw and uncoated.
A tear slips down Viola’s cheek.
I swallow thick guilt, but I don’t take it back.
“I only went with you to those hospital appointments because I hoped that maybe if something worked, we’d both finally be free.”
“We’re both fertile,” she whispers, voice cracking.
“They said it was timing…
They asked us to be intimate, to actually try to be close.
But you treated me like a responsibility.
A transaction.
And when it didn’t happen quickly enough, you were done with me.”
She turns her tear streaked face toward my parents.
“In this modern world, you wanted sons from him?
Not children, sons?
What about daughters?
Would they have been so worthless to you?”
My mother lowers her gaze.
Dad stiffens and looks away.
“You and my parents ruined my life,” Viola says, barely more than a whisper.
Her voice broken and final.
She stands.
Walks away.
Doesn’t look back.
The echo of her footsteps is the last thing left in the room.
***
Later.
Hours pass before the pressure in my chest gives way.
I left my parents house Immediately Viola walked out of dinner.
Now I’m lying on my back on the rooftop of the pizza and spaghetti restaurant Damon and I always come to after work.
A bottle of brandy rests beside me.
A cigarette burns slowly between my lips.
The alcohol numbs nothing.
The smoke isn’t enough to suffocate the memories choking me.
I replay everything, every word, every tear, every crack in Viola’s voice.
And for the first time in years, I wish something different had happened.
That someone had stopped it.
That I had.
Footsteps approach.
“I should toss you off this roof for constantly breaking my sister.”
Damon.
His voice is razor sharp.
Controlled fury.
Betrayal wrapped in grief.
I don’t move.
I exhale smoke into the dark sky.
“Why are you doing this to her?” He asks, voice quiet.
But the pain underneath is loud enough to drown the city.
“You should toss me,” I say flatly.
“Instead of asking questions you can’t bear the answers to.”
“Oh, I want answers.” His boots land beside my head.
“She’s at my place crying, destroyed.
Blaming herself for everything.
Her body, her worth, her marriage, her failure to give you a child.
She has no one to go to but me because our families caged her into this.
So tell me, why are you doing this?”
I sit up slowly.
My gaze meets his.
“I’m not your enemy, Damon.”
He scoffs.
“Our parents are,” I continue.
“I begged mine not to go through with the arrangement.
They didn’t listen.
And now, this is the result.”
I stand.
Start walking.
“Is there someone else?” He asks suddenly.
I stop.
Silence stretches.
“Was there ever someone else?” His voice softens, not kinder, just tired.
“Is that why you can’t give her a home?
A life?”
I test the truth on my tongue, then let it fall.
“I wish there had been,” I whisper.
“It would’ve made ending this…easier.
Then at least she wouldn’t blame herself.”
And without waiting for his response, I walk away, leaving the bottle, the cigarette pack and Damon’s broken expression behind.
Because in the end, walking away is the only thing I’ve ever been allowed to choose.