•Leiara•
I lift my head to meet Colson's eyes bearing down on me. He studies me briefly, then a smirk curves on his lips.
His face beams with satisfaction and he seems to celebrate my plight.
Those eyes of his, it's as if they're trying to make me see what I am.
But which is it?
Is it the version of me that reflects in his eyes where I look stripped of my dignity that he means for me to see?
Or is it the satisfied smirk that seems to say, 'yeah, you aren't a woman worthy of respect?
Or perhaps, his face that spells he's happy because this worthless bitch is suffering?
Just which one is it? His eyes reflect too many things for me to know the specific one he's trying to get through.
I sigh, and lower my gaze. I'm tired. My eyes are red, tired and drowsy. And I'm cold.
I feel like I'll gag if I remain in the room any longer.
The satisfied smirk on his face only causes my heart to prick.
I struggle up to my feet, my stiff muscles finally loosening, accompanied by chiding aches.
I pick up the towel I'd let drop to the floor and I turn toward the closet direction.
I try my best not to limp, especially in his presence. But curling up in that position a whole night really made my tissues stiff.
My sprain hurts more, making it impossible to walk straight no matter how much I try. I limp forward to get some clothes to change into.
I can feel Colson's eyes burn through my back. His gaze is following my every move.
And I know well he isn't thinking about anything but that I'm acting and pretending that I'm hurt yet again to get his attention.
It's always that.
I do not say anything, nor do I act like his stare bothers me. I simply grab my clothes and a flat sandal due to my injury.
Then I turn and start heading back toward him. He stands tall at the door.
When I reach him, I pause. He stares at me, his expression unreadable. He studies me quietly.
To not spend any more minute in the room, I speak up.
"P-please," my voice cracks, too dry. "The door, move aside please."
He remains staring at me a while more as if my request for him to move needs to be contemplated.
But after a moment, he moves aside.
I go out the door. I try to hurry up my strides but I hear him speak.
"You must be aware that we are to head to the company together, right? Grandmother requests a report from my trip and you have to tag along because of the function that will take place this evening."
His voice is sharp and steady, no feelings behind it.
Without glancing back, I nod. I'd already been made aware yesterday when I was working.
Then, without a word, I walk away.
I go into one of the other rooms. There, I take a shower. After that, I sit on the bed and rub a pack of ice over my injured ankle.
Then I apply the ointment the maid got me.
A while later, I dress myself up in a hazelnut beige, long sleeve, high neck fitted shirt. Paired with an almond beige paréo skirt that's almost at my knee level.
I style my hair in a messy bun and put on my flat sandals before heading downstairs for breakfast.
I sit at the breakfast table and ask the maids to make me an avocado toast. I don't have much appetite but I really love my avocados.
After a while, the maids bring it to me. As they do, I see Colson descending the stairs. He's in a neat black suit, his hair slicked back to bring out the shape of his tan face.
His eyes cross mine but they move away quickly. Quietly, he joins me on the breakfast table where he is also served breakfast.
I concentrate on mine, trying to finish up quickly. But even as fast I go, he finishes before me and starts staring a hole into me.
I don't want to choke. I eat carefully but at a hurried pace. But to Colson, it seems slow. He repeatedly taps his fingers on the table, drumming at me to hurry up.
I knew if I don't eat properly right now, I won't be able to do much when we arrive at the company. And that would earn me a scolding from Helen.
Something I don't want. So I rather incur Colson's wrath here than Helen's at the company where I might be disgraced.
This, of course, infuriates Colson. He flares at how I'm taking my time to eat.
"Leiara, you..!" His jaw clenches, but he doesn't finish his sentence.
He exhales aloud, a bit fed up.
A while after, I finish. As soon as he sees my plate empty, he snaps up and adjusts his suit.
I can't say my eyes are the ones playing a trick on me because I see it. Just before he leaves the table, his eyes flicker down toward my injured ankle.
It's only for a brief moment, but I catch it.
W-why's he checking out my wound? Does he want to worsen it? Because he thinks I'm not suffering enough?
A shiver runs down my spine.
I chug down some water and hurry out after him. Though I don't reach far quickly enough because I can barely walk properly with my leg.
I go out to meet him waiting at the front seat of the car, ready to move but just waiting for me.
His displeasure is obvious.
I limp to the other side of the front seat and pull open the car door. I try to get in, being careful to place my leg down properly, not to stir the pain.
But this irks Colson.
"Don't be a tortoise, Leiara!" He scolds, frustrated.
I get in the car and close the door.
With an exasperated sigh, he starts the engine and drives off.
The ride is silent. Colson's gaze is glued to the road, as is mine.
We arrive at the company minutes later and Colson parks in the parking lot.
As I get down carefully, his eyes rest heavily on me. His face is irritated at how slow I get down, and how careful I put out my leg.
But he doesn't say anything. He just waits for me to get down, then we start heading toward the company.
As soon as we enter through the door that is opened by a doorman, all the workers' eyes dart to us.
Should I say, darts to Colson?
They seem to have been expecting him. They all rise and give him a welcome greeting.
Unlike every other day where they judge me with their eyes, with Colson by my side, they didn't. But it is more like their attention is simply drawn to him alone.
Colson and I head toward the executive elevator. He walks not too far in front in order to keep our image of a loving marriage, else Helen would raise hell.
Seconds away from reaching the lift, my ankle buckles and I trip forward, looking to land on the floor.
A searing pain shoots through me at the same moment.
I brace myself for the fall, but just before I land, Colson's hand shoots forward at speed and before I know it, I'm wrapped tight in his arms.
A stunning gasp echoes across the air. Every eye peers at us.
Colson bounds one arm tight around my waist, while the other grips my wrist. His face is light, not a single speck of disgust like the other day he brushed me off like a bug.
It's surprising to me.
I would've remained confused, but he leans into my ear and whispers.
"You just can't help but want to be in the spotlight, can you?" His arm tightens, grip digging into my skin.
I squint, wincing softly in pain.
"Even in the eyes of so many, you result to this low act to draw attention to yourself."
While he whispers such degrading remarks, he maintains a steady gaze and face, fooling everyone to think he's caring for me.
But more than the judging eyes and his loathing words, I ache from how tight and digging his grip goes.
Unable to bear it any longer, I whisper in a stammering voice.
"H-hurts.." I say, eyes pleading for him to let me go. "You're hurting me."
He goes silent, eyes a bit spread as he stares bewildered at me like I've said something shocking.