The drive home passes in a haze. I can’t remember if I stopped at any traffic lights. All I can think about is that Jerry is dead because of me, and my husband killed him. Yes, Jerry was a scumbag who got me into this dire situation, but it doesn’t mean he deserved to die.

I put Charlie’s favorite cartoon on in his bedroom and storm to Gabriel’s office, not caring that my face is streaked with tears or that my mascara is running. Gabriel looks up when I open his door. The smile freezes on his face as he takes me in. He pushes to his feet, the ever-present flinch giving away the strain the action puts on his leg.

“How could you?” I cry.

“Valentina.” His voice is harsh, authoritative. “Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down. You killed Jerry!”

A mixture of sympathy and regret soften his features. “Who told you?”

“It’s in the news.” The last thing I want is to implicate Kris.

Rounding his desk, he takes my shoulders. “I should’ve told you, but I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Why? Was it because he gave me a car?”

“It’s not what you think.”

I slam my palms on his chest. “You son of a bitch.”

He catches my wrists. “Calm down, please, or I’ll be forced to tie you up.”

At that, I still. Gabriel never makes idle threats.

“Will you be quiet if I let go?” He sounds genuinely concerned. “All this screaming and crying can’t be good for the baby.”

I want to hate him, but I can’t. Not even when I think he shot Jerry. My shoulders slump.

“Will you listen?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Calmly,” he insists.

I don’t have a choice but to agree. “Calmly.”

He lets go of me slowly, testing me. When I don’t move, he brushes his thumbs over my cheeks, wiping away the tears. “It was Scott who shot Jerry.”

“Magda’s bodyguard?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment.

“Tell me,” I urge. “The truth.”

“He helped you run, and he shouldn’t have. She had to make an example of him.”

There is doubt in the way he speaks the words. I get the feeling he doesn’t believe himself. “You were there?”

“Yes,” he says gravely.

Pushing his hands away, I cover my face. “Oh, my God, Gabriel. It’s my fault. He died because of me. Why didn’t you stop Scott?”

“He didn’t give me a chance. Valentina, look at me.” He grabs my arms and pulls my hands away from my face. “Jerry was no saint. He got Charlie into this mess.”

My look is cutting. “You mean he got me enslaved to you.”

His glacier eyes turn hard, and his hold tightens to the point of pain. “You don’t understand the meaning of the word slave. I made you a princess, but if you want to be treated like a slave, that can be arranged.”

Of all the cold, hard truths, this one cuts the deepest, because it’s another affirmation of what Kris keeps on telling me. Gabriel doesn’t love me. I’m an object. He can turn me from princess to slave as his mood changes.

The pain in my heart makes me lash out at him in anger. “What I want doesn’t matter, anyway. You’ll do with me as you please.”

“What you are to me is entirely in your hands. You can live in comfort and be cherished or be chained in my basement and sleep in a cage.”

“But I can never leave.”

“No, you can never leave.”

“Then I’m nothing but your prisoner.”

“That’s one way to see it. The other way of looking at it is that you’re my wife.”

Sobs push up from my chest and find their way to my lips. I was doing so well on make-believe until a couple of hours ago. How can it hurt so much? Why didn’t I listen to Kris? Why did I make myself vulnerable? Now it’s too late. I fell for him, and it fucking hurts that he’s not falling right back for me.

“I don’t understand.” I wrap my arms around myself and take a step back. “Why me? Why are you doing this to me?”

He eliminates the space between us with one, easy step. “I already told you, I don’t need a reason.”

“I hate you!” I accentuate the statement with a fist on his chest.

His words are tender, compassionate. “We’ve already established that.”

I don’t have the strength to fight alone any longer. I can’t fight him and myself. He made me fall in love with him knowing he’ll never love me back. How can any man be so cruel?

“Please, Gabriel, if you feel anything for me, anything at all, set me free.” It’s my only hope at salvaging what’s left of my heart.

His wraps his arms around me and pulls me close, carefully, as if I have wings of rice paper. The embrace is what he offers. This is his answer. He won’t set me free. What I get in return for love is a consolation hug.

“I hate you,” I say, sobbing in his arms, hating myself more because I can’t even mean the damned words.

He kisses the top of my head. “I’ve got you, baby.”

The man who inflicts the pain is the man who offers the balm, holding me against the warmth of his body and whispering soothing words in my ear. Gabriel is a constant that never changes. He takes care of me now like he does after he lashing me with his belt or palm. His behavior when he emotionally hurts me is the same as when he physically tortures me. I don’t have the strength not to take this olive branch he offers. I don’t have the strength not to fall into him. As always, he’s there to catch and carry me through his cruelty. As he lifts me into his arms and moves toward the stairs, I already mourn my surrender.

* * *

Every living being fights for one thing. Freedom. I claimed a woman and took that away from her. Instead of putting her in a cage, I clipped her wings to prevent her from flying away. In time, some caged creatures are tamed. Some remain wild forever. Valentina falls in the latter category. Her spirit is too strong, but my will is stronger. My need is fiercer. I’ll break her, over and over, make her submit to me time and time again, until we both blow out our last breaths.

She’s my black kitten.

She’s my forever.

Her tears move me, but not with the perverse lust I feel at her erotic pain. This pain cuts me. I carry her to our bedroom and nudge the door open. This is one of those occasions I want to love her gently, giving her comfort to make up for what I won’t give––the freedom she is fighting for. The love she deserves.

Making quick work of undressing us both, I lower her to the bed and cover her body with mine. I feel between her thighs to test if she’s ready and find her slick. Always wet for me. I don’t wait. I put my cock at her entrance, part her folds, and pierce her pussy.

When she moans and writhers I give her more, and when she starts panting I give everything, taking her body to a place where pleasure is freedom. She clings to me with her arms and legs while her orgasm crushes through her. Our coupling is uncomplex, pure, and complete. Trapped in each other, our bodies connected, for a few blissful moments we both forget.

* * *

Comes morning, I go back to pretending. It’s the only way to survive. It’s not like anything other than my heart is suffering. Lots of people are worse off. Look at poor Jerry. I have it good. I’m lucky. It could’ve been me with a bullet in my brain. Who needs freedom and love? I’m done wallowing in self-centered pity. There are other people to consider.

Today is the first day of Charlie’s new treatment. I gave my consent, because I couldn’t come up with any arguments why we shouldn’t try. We have nothing to lose. I wait anxiously outside the television room where Christopher is working with Charlie. I asked to stay with my brother, but Christopher said it would hamper his efforts and inhibit Charlie. Gabriel sits next to me in the hallway on Magda’s infamous Louis Vuitton love seat, the one Oscar almost ruined, holding my hand. He acts like a good husband, and we don’t speak about yesterday.

I jerk from my thoughts when the door opens. Christopher exists first.

“How did it go?” I ask, jumping to my feet.

“Very good. We made progress.”

“Really?”

Charlie follows. He looks happy, calm, and very awake, awake as in present in the moment.

“Hey.” I touch his arm. “How do you feel?”

“Gre–great.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Sta–starving.”

“How about a burger?” Gabriel asks. “I can start the barbeque.”

“Bu–burger.”

“Wood or gas?” he asks.

“Woo–wood.”

Charlie loves a wood fire. He can stare at the flames for hours.

“Let’s go take care of lunch, then. Afterward, we’re up for a game of football with the guards.”

Gabriel takes Charlie and leaves me alone with Christopher. As much as I resent my husband, I love him for this.

“Do you think the sessions will make a difference?” I ask.

“I do.” The doctor shifts a briefcase from one hand to the other. “We’ll start with general relaxation exercises and then work on speech.”

“How much of his old memories does he have left?”

“It’s hard to say. I can only know if I take him back into the past. Why do you ask?”

“I just wanted to know if he remembers us the way we were before the accident.”

“Ah.” He puts down the briefcase and removes his glasses. “Mrs. Louw––”

“Valentina, please.”

“Valentina,” a note of caution slips into his voice, “it’ll never be like before.”

“I know. I was just hoping…”

“It’s normal to miss the old personality, the person before the brain damage, but it’s not conducive to dwell in the past. It’s better to accept the present and to optimize on what we’ve got.”

“I understand.” I miss my brother so much. I long for the Charlie I destroyed.

He looks at me with scrunched-up eyes. “Maybe you could use some hypnotherapy yourself. You lived through a traumatic experience with the accident, and the trauma is often ongoing for the ones left to take care of the injured.”

“Oh, I’m fine.”

“It won’t do harm trying. Isn’t that what we said for Charlie?”

“Really, I’m all right.”

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

I hold out my hand. “Thank you. May I walk you out?”

His handshake is firm. “I want to say goodbye to Magda before I go, but don’t worry, I know my way.”

* * *

We’re at the dinner table. Magda is at the head and Valentina opposite me next to Charlie. Our server enters with the wine.

“No wine for Charlie or me, thank you,” Valentina says, as every night.

“Water, ma’am?”

“Sparkling, please.”

Magda raises a finger. “Still. Sparkling will give you indigestion.”

Valentina doesn’t argue, but I pour my wife a glass of sparkling water. Magda’s look is condescending, as if I’m a child who obstinately defies her for the sole purpose of creating conflict.

When the roast is served and Valentina adds salt, Magda says, “Not so much salt. It’s not good for the baby.”

I pin Magda with a look. “Her blood pressure is fine.”

Magda takes a sip of wine. Her gaze moves over Valentina. “You couldn’t fit a tighter dress?”

The black dress was my choice, and Valentina looks stunning in it. It shows off her growing belly just the way I like. I want the world to see she’s carrying my seed in her womb.

Valentina shifts on her chair, but I wink at her. “I like it.”

Magda makes a sarcastic sound. “You would.”

“May we please eat in peace, now?” I ask pointedly.

Pinching her lips together, Magda gives me the stink eye.

For a while we eat in silence, except for the noise of Charlie’s cutlery. He has a habit of hacking everything on his plate to tiny pieces.

Halfway through the meal, Magda is on her third glass of wine. From time to time she shoots an irritated glance in Charlie’s direction, her eyes focused on the knife he drags through the meat.

As if she can’t stand looking at him butchering his meat any longer Magda turns sideways in her chair, cutting Charlie from her peripheral view. “Any news from Carly?”

The food goes stale in my mouth. Magda knows it’s a sensitive subject and one I don’t care to discuss at the dinner table. I swallow and take a drink. “Nothing new.”

“I miss her.” Magda sighs. “When is she coming home? Isn’t her weekend visit long overdue?”

Charlie drops his knife. It makes a loud clang as it hits the plate. Magda jerks. She pinches her eyes shut for five seconds, probably counting to get control over her patience.

“I said––” she starts.

“I heard what you said. Sylvia and I don’t work like that, and you know it. Carly is old enough to decide when she wants to visit. She knows her room is always ready.”

“Maybe you should force it, Gabriel.” Her gaze keeps on flittering to Charlie who’s pinching each miniscule piece of food on his plate with a loud clank of his fork. “You’re too easy on her.”

Charlie takes a bite and chews exactly ten times before he swallows. He repeats this with every morsel.

Magda turns to Valentina. “You should take the room on the left of yours for the baby. Have you thought about decorating?”

Valentina glances at me. “Gabriel and I haven’t discussed it, yet.”

The sweet, incredible woman she is, she’ll allow me to be a part of creating a room for Connor. That’s what I decided to call him, after my great-grandfather whom I greatly admired.

I give her a smile, telling her how much she pleased me. “What would you like?”

“I was thinking bright colors like green and blue with a jungle theme. Something happy.”

If she wants monkeys and elephant tusks on the walls she can have that. She can have anything she wants.

As usual, Magda has to throw a spike in the wheel. “Green and blue?” She chortles. “It won’t fit with the rest of the house decor. I saw a beautiful crib in whitewashed wood with a beige, hand-embroidered duvet. It will look perfect with off-white walls and sand-colored curtains. We should replace the carpet with tiles. A carpet will get too dirty with a baby.”

Valentina sits up straighter. “Thank you for your input, but it’s not my style.”

It’s the first time Valentina defies Magda so openly, and Magda doesn’t like it. I, on the other hand, am ecstatic that my tiny wife has enough backbone to stand up for what she wants.

“Well,” Magda looks between us, “this is still my house.”

It’s a winning statement to an argument. There’s not much Valentina can say to that, and the smug look on Magda’s face says she knows it.

I’ve been toying with the idea of getting our own place, and now my decision is made. The atmosphere in this house is way too tense.

* * *

It takes another three weeks of cajoling before Carly agrees to come over. She doesn’t agree to a weekend visit, but I settle for the Saturday lunch she proposes. To make it as relaxed as possible, I plan a barbeque by the pool. It’s late autumn, and the water is too cold to swim, but the day is sunny and pleasantly warm. An outdoor lunch will do us all good.

Carly doesn’t say a word in the car on the drive to our house.

In the driveway, I switch off the engine and turn to her. “Is there anything you’d like to talk about before we go inside?”

She stares straight ahead with her arms crossed over her chest. “Like what?”

“Like the fact that Valentina and I are married and we’re going to have a baby.”

“You said it all, didn’t you?”

“Don’t be a wisecrack. Do you want to talk about how it makes you feel?”

She shoots me a dirty look. “Embarrassed?”

“I’m sorry if my choice embarrasses you, but she’s a good, strong woman, and I’m proud of her.”

“Like you’re proud of Mom?”

“This has nothing to do with me and your mother. Your mother chose a different path, and I accepted it. So should you.”

Turning her face away from me, she picks at the hem of her blouse. “You treat her differently.”

“How?”

“You love her more.”

“Please don’t compare her and your mother. It’s not fair to either.”

“Did you love Mom?”

“Very much.”

“Why did it change?”

“People change. Sometimes, we grow apart or want different things.”

“Did Mom want different things, or was it you?”

“Pointing fingers and laying blame won’t help. It is what it is. We need to accept it and move on.”

She snorts. “You certainly have.”

“Would you rather see me alone for the rest of my life?”

“Not alone. Just with someone different. She’s a gold-digger.”

“Listen to me, Carly. Valentina didn’t ask to be put in this situation. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. This is hard for her, too. Will you at least try to make an effort?”

“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

“Good. I appreciate that. Before we go inside, there’s more you should know.”

She turns her head to me quickly. “More? How much worse can this get?”

“Carly,” I say sternly. I’m trying to be patient, but her attitude doesn’t help.

“Okay, okay.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m listening.”

“Valentina’s brother is staying with us.”

She gasps. “Are you moving her whole family in?”

“Just her brother.”

“Why must he live here?”

“He has brain damage and needs a lot of care.”

“Oh, dear God.” She makes a face. “A disabled person in our house?”

“I’m proud of the way Valentina takes care of him.”

“Give her a gold star on her forehead or something. Doesn’t she have other family who can take him in?”

“No and that’s not the point. I offered.”

“How crazy is he?”

“He’s not crazy. He lost some of his cognitive functions. Mostly, he repeats parts of words.”

“This is going to be the Mad Hatter’s crazy tea party.”

“I won’t tolerate this kind of talk, understood?”

She blows out a puff of air. “Can we go inside, now? It’s hot in the car.”

“Remember what I said. This is not Valentina’s fault.”

She gets out and slams the door. I take a few deep breaths. Admittedly, I haven’t expected her to be ecstatic. I don’t blame for her being upset, but I can’t stand by and let her be mean to Valentina for something that’s my fault.

I grab Carly’s bag from the back and follow her inside.

“We’re outside,” Magda calls when the slamming of the door announces our arrival.

Instead of heading to the deck, Carly snatches her bag from me and veers toward the stairs. “I’ll meet you at the pool. I’m going to change.”

Some of the tenseness leaves my body when I step outside and see Valentina. She’s dressed in a tight dress with her hair pulled back. God, she’s beautiful. The size of her belly doesn’t faze her, but Valentina has never been conscious of her physical beauty. The fact that she doesn’t know how desirable she is only makes her more desirable to me. A tendril that escaped the elastic feathers over her temple and a flush marks her cheeks––telltale signs that she’s been busy. She’s bustling around the veranda table, which is laid with green crockery and bright yellow napkins. A bunch of sunflowers is the center decoration. Magda is lying on a deckchair, reading a book, and it looks like Charlie is doing origami the way he meticulously folds the paper napkins.

I cross the deck and pull Valentina to me with a hand on her hip. “Hey, beautiful.”

She smiles at me. “I made potato and beetroot salad with garlic bread. There’s mud pie for dessert. Do you think it’ll do?”

“Perfect.”

I make sure she gets how much I appreciate her efforts with a soft kiss. The red of her cheeks darkens.

She first glances at Magda and then at the sliding doors. “Where is she?”

“Changing. She’ll be down in a minute.”

Carly takes her time to join us. By the time she walks through the door wearing a swimsuit and sunglasses pushed back on her hair, I’m on my second iced tea.

She kisses Magda’s cheek, but ignores Valentina and Charlie.

My blood starts to simmer, but I remind myself I’m solely to blame. Forcing patience, I count to ten and say, “Carly, don’t you have something to say to Valentina?”

She turns to Valentina as if she only notices her now. “Oh, yes.” She flops down in a chair and flips her sunglasses over her eyes. “Get me a lemonade. Plenty of ice. While you’re at it, bring me a towel.”