The Unloved Wife Of Damien Whitmore

Chapter 1

LINA

The pregnancy test slipped from my trembling fingers and fell, making a noise as it clattered against the bathroom counter. I couldn't believe what I was seeing as I slowly rubbed my eyes thinking I was getting too tired. But the visual refused to change.  Two pink lines stared back at me.

Pregnant.

I pressed my palm against my stomach, feeling nothing at all, yet I knew everything had completely changed forever in the span of three minutes. I was growing a baby inside me. A baby. Damien's baby to be exact.

I grabbed the edge of the sink, gripping it tightly as my knuckled turned white as I stared at the sunken refection in the mirror. I was looking more hideous today, with pale face, dried lips and sunken eyes filled with eye bags. What the hell was I supposed to do? What could I say to him? Would he even want this, considering our circumstances surrounding our marriage?

I wrapped the test in tissue paper and shoved it deep into the bathroom drawer, burying it beneath hair accessories and makeup items that I bought out of boredom but never used. Although it was out of sight, it refused to leave my mind.

I heard the sound of the door opening and my heart skipped a bit, as I realized with dawning horror that Damien was back early. He wasn't supposed to be home for another two hours. I quickly splashed cold water on my face, trying to hide the worst of the worse, and hurried out of the bathroom to welcome him home.

He was standing in the foyer, when I finally got downstairs, he was absentmindedly loosening his tie with one hand, while his other hand scrolled through his phone. Even after years of being married to him, just the sight of him, make butterflies flutter in my chest and my mouth go dry.

"You're home," I said softly, my hand instinctively moving to my stomach before I forced it back to my side.

He glanced at me and back at his phone as he replied. "Grandmother's been asking about us. Thought I should make an appearance., so she would not worry. Her health is troo fragile now, for any shock."

Of course. It was because of his grand mum. Never because he wanted to see me.

Damien pulled off his jacket and laid it on the back of the couch, moving through the room, with the calm confidence of a man who owned everything he touched.....even me in some ways.

He pulled himself a drink from the bar cabinet and gulped it down as he groaned in contentment.

"Long day?" I asked, desperate for conversation, seeking acknowledgement that i existed as more than a furniture  in his home.

"They're all long," he replied, taking a sip. His eyes finally met mine, acknowledging me as he scanned me from head to toe, as I realized immediately that I was wearing one of my nightgown that left nothing to imagination. He swallowed hard as his eyes got more darker, dilated as I recognized that look. He set down the glass, without looking at it, and crossed the room towards me.

I knew that look and what followed afterwards, which made me flush despite not being a virgin or new to it. His eyes would darken as he would choke me, pinning me to the wall before consuming me, rutting his body against mine as he would slip his fingers down my ants and shove it all in, as I would whimper in both pain and pleasure. Whenever he did this, it always confused me, because he never cared about me, but his attitude during this moments made me have hope, that maybe he cared for me.

"Damien, I—" I started, taking a step back.

"Don't," he murmured, his hand catching my waist. "Don't overthink it, Lina."

But how could I not? How could I let him touch me when I was carrying his child, a child he didn't want, a child he didn't even know existed? I should push him back and tell him the truth.

Instead, I found myself melting into his embrace as his lips found mine, not even bothering to put up a fight, I felt pathetic and clinging to these stolen moments when I was actually worth something in his eyes. His hands were roaming, slipping in and cupping my breast as I allowed him to guide me to our bedroom, while hating myself for wanting this, but not too much for me to stop.

Afterward, I lay in our bed, the sheets twisted around my bare legs, listening to the sound of the shower running in the  bathroom. My hand rested on my stomach again, slowly rubbing it in a maternal gesture as I thought about the child. The baby was barely there, but it was already precious to me.

Through the sound of running water, I heard Damien's phone buzzing in the bathroom counter as the shower was immediately turned off and I heard Damien answer. His voice bounced clearly from the bathroom making me hear what he was saying.

"Grandmother, I told you I'd visit this week."

A pause. I held my breath, straining to hear.

"Of course we're fine. Yes, she's here."

Another pause, longer this time, I could almost hear the same words, she spoke, each time she called.

"When will you give me a great-grandchild, Damien? You've been married two years now."

Damien's laugh was sharp, bitter and mocking as I felt something die in me.

"You've already saddled me with a wife, and now you want to add a child?"

The words hit me like a physical blow. I pressed my hand against my mouth to keep from making a sound, hot tears already burning as it rolled down my cheeks.

Saddled. Like I was a burden. Like I was something forced upon him that he had to endure.

I knew he didn't love me but hearing it spoken so casually, so callously, made it unbearable.

The bathroom door opened, and I quickly turned away, wiping at my face, pulling the sheet higher. 

Damien emerged in a cloud of steam, a towel wrapped around his waist, his dark hair damp. He moved to the closet, pulling out fresh clothes to wear, like he was prepared to head out again tonight.

"Damien?" My voice sounded small, uncertain.

"Mm?" He didn't look up from buttoning his shirt.

"Are you... staying tonight?"

The question hung in the air between us. I thought he wasn't going to answer as the seconds trickled by, before he spoke.

"I have a charity gala," he said, reaching for his cufflinks. "Corporate obligation. I'll be late."

A lie. I could always tell when he was lying. His left hand would fidget with his watch, a tiny tell he didn't know he had. He was doing it now, his fingers adjusting and readjusting the band.

"Which charity?" I asked quietly, even though I knew I shouldn't push.

"Does it matter?" He sounded harsh and defensive as he added. "It's work, Lina. You wouldn't understand."

He finished dressing in silence, and I watched him prepare to leave me. At the bedroom door, he paused, his hand on the frame.

"Don't wait up," he said without turning around.

And then he was gone, his footsteps fading down the stairs, as the door closed behind him, then silence became my only companion.