C5 Voice Out

Priscilla POV

“I know you might feel bored or lonely,”

Adrian said calmly, adjusting his cufflinks, “That’s why we’re going out tomorrow night to a family gathering. You can prepare. Call the spa team and stylists so they can get you dressed.”

His tone was final, as if the matter had already been settled.

“Okay,” I said quietly, not arguing. I swallowed the words I wanted to say and nodded instead. I’ll talk to him another time, I told myself. This isn’t the right moment.

I stood up and went downstairs, my steps slow and heavy. With the maid assisting me, I set the dining table neatly, arranging everything the way Adrian liked it. Soon, he came down. We ate in silence, the clinking of cutlery the only sound between us. When we were done, he left for his study without a word. I stayed behind to help clean up before retreating to my room.

As I lay on the bed that night, sleep came easily, not because I was at peace, but because I was exhausted. Tomorrow, I would have to face his family again, people who always made me feel like an outsider in my own marriage.

I woke up the next morning to an empty bed. Adrian was gone. A small ache settled in my chest. He usually woke me to help him get ready for work. Why didn’t he today? I wondered. Is it because of the party? Or because he didn’t want to bother me?

I pushed the thought aside and went to the bathroom to freshen up. After breakfast, I walked through the mansion, ensuring everything was in order, attending to the staff, and handling the routine responsibilities that had become my daily life.

Time passed quietly, blending into itself until afternoon arrived. Soon, the spa team Adrian mentioned showed up. They were familiar faces, professionals he had hired solely for me. They didn’t serve anyone else, didn’t gossip, didn’t ask questions.

They came when needed, were paid monthly, and disappeared again, just like everything else in my life.

The spa session was long and indulgent. Skilled hands worked tension from my muscles, warm oils soaking into my skin. For a brief moment, I felt relaxed, lighter. But the feeling didn’t last. The calm was temporary, artificial.

Afterward, they styled my hair and applied my makeup carefully, keeping it simple and elegant. When I looked in the mirror, I saw beauty, but also distance. The woman staring back looked flawless, yet empty.

By evening, Adrian returned. He showered and dressed quickly, his movements efficient and practiced. When he walked into the sitting room, his eyes swept over me briefly.

“Are you done?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

He took my hand, and we walked to the car together. His grip was firm, familiar. The drive was silent, as always. The city lights passed by the window, blurring into streaks of gold and white.

We arrived at his family home soon after.

“Good evening, everyone,” I said with a polite smile as we entered.

“Good evening, dear,” they responded. The gathering felt formal, controlled. His family members interacted politely but distantly, each minding their own space. I could sense the strain beneath the surface, especially between his parents. They spoke cordially, but there was no warmth, no affection. It made my chest ache.

I exchanged brief conversations with a few relatives. Some admired me openly, praising my appearance and calling me lucky to have a husband like Adrian. Others whispered unkind words, thinking I wouldn’t hear them. I pretended not to notice, smiling when required, staying quiet otherwise.

Despite the laughter and music, I felt hollow. The emptiness followed me like a shadow. The party lasted until midnight. Adrian disliked staying overnight at his parents’ house, so we left the same night, as always.

On the drive home, I stared out the window, my reflection faint against the glass. Why do I feel like this? I wondered. Why does everything feel so heavy? I knew the answer. I couldn’t wait anymore.

When we arrived home, we went straight upstairs. Adrian walked into the bathroom without a word. He valued cleanliness, routine, and order. I stood there, my heart pounding, rehearsing what I needed to say. I have to say it tonight and nothing can stop or interrupt me.

Soon, he came out, already reaching for the door, about to leave the room again.

“Adrian, wait,” I said quickly. “I would love to talk with you.”

“It can wait,” he replied, his hand still on the handle. “We’ll talk later. I want to deal with some things.”

“Please, Adrian,” I said, my voice trembling despite my effort to stay calm. “It’s important. I have to talk to you now.”

He stopped. Slowly, he turned and looked at me. His gaze was deep, unreadable. After a moment, he walked back and sat on the couch.

“Okay,” he said. “You can start.”

My heart raced. I clasped my hands together, afraid to look at him.

“Adrian… please,” I began softly. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m starting to lose my mind. The boredom, the loneliness, it’s killing me gradually.”

I took a shaky breath.

“I want to work. I want to be among people. I can’t stay in this mansion all day anymore. It’s for my peace of mind, for my emotional stability.”

I closed my eyes, my body trembling as I waited for his response, unsure whether I would be met with understanding or something else entirely.