Burden

Elena sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her phone screen. Her mother's name hovered over the last unread message: Call me when you can, sweetheart. We miss you. She wanted to respond. She wanted to hear her mother's voice, to feel that warmth and comfort she used to have before everything changed. But she hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. If she called now, what would she say? Would she admit that the perfect life she had fought so hard to build was slowly crumbling beneath her? Would she tell them that Liam barely looked at her anymore? That his mother and sister treated her like an outsider? That she had started to feel like a ghost in her own home? She locked her phone instead, setting it down on the nightstand. Outside the bedroom door, muffled voices filled the air—Liam's mother and sister chatting in the living room. Elena strained to hear, but the moment her name was mentioned, their voices lowered. She didn't need to hear the words to know what they were saying. She doesn't belong here. She's not good enough for Liam. Maybe he made a mistake marrying her. The same things they had been whispering since the beginning. A lump formed in her throat as she pulled her knees to her chest. She had sacrificed so much to be here. She had left behind her career, her independence, her family—everything—for a man who now barely acknowledged her. Liam used to be her best friend. He used to listen, to laugh with her, to make her feel like she was his whole world. But now, she could barely remember the last time they had shared a real conversation that wasn't about work or his family. She was always the one reaching for him, always the one trying to bridge the growing gap between them. But Liam? Liam was slipping away. She heard the front door open, followed by Liam's voice as he greeted his mother and sister. He hadn't even checked if she was awake before leaving for the day.Elena stayed curled on the bed for what felt like hours, listening to the faint chatter from the living room. The occasional bursts of laughter stung her more than she cared to admit. At some point, she forced herself up, trying to shake off the heaviness pressing on her chest. She smoothed down her dress and stepped out of the bedroom. If she was going to be part of this family, she had to try—no matter how much they pushed her away. As she entered the living room, the conversation hushed. Liam's mother, Eleanor, glanced up from her cup of tea, her expression unreadable. His sister, Victoria, barely hid her smirk. "Good morning," Elena greeted, forcing a polite smile. Eleanor raised a brow. "It's almost noon." Elena's smile faltered, but she quickly recovered. "I wasn't feeling well." Liam, who was seated on the couch, barely acknowledged her. He was scrolling through his phone, his attention elsewhere. "Are you sick?" Eleanor asked, her tone laced with disinterest. "No, just tired." Eleanor hummed as she sipped her tea. "Well, you should be careful, dear. Stress can do terrible things to a marriage." The words felt like a slap, but Elena swallowed down the hurt. "I'm fine," she said, sitting beside Liam. She rested a hand on his arm, hoping for some kind of reaction. He barely glanced at her before shifting away slightly. Her stomach sank. Victoria, enjoying the tension, decided to add fuel to the fire. "Liam, we were just talking about that new restaurant downtown. You should take us there sometime." Liam nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah, sure." Elena forced a laugh. "Maybe we can go together this weekend?" There was a pause before Liam responded. "I'll see if I have time." Not a yes. Not even an I'll try. Just if I have time. The rejection hit her harder than she expected. Victoria smirked. "You know, we ran into Claire the other day." Elena stiffened. Claire. Liam's ex. "She looked amazing," Victoria continued. "She just got promoted. Isn't that exciting, Liam?" Liam finally looked up from his phone, nodding. "Yeah, that's great for her." That was it. No reassurance for Elena, no acknowledgement of how uncomfortable the topic might be for her. Just another moment of feeling like she was standing on the outside, looking in. Eleanor set down her teacup. "Claire always had such a strong drive. It's a shame things didn't work out." Elena's fingers clenched in her lap. "Well, Liam and I are happy, and that's what matters." Eleanor's eyes flickered to Liam. "Of course, dear." The way she said it sent a chill down Elena's spine. She turned to Liam, searching for any sign that he noticed how cruel his family was being. But he was already back on his phone, detached from everything happening around him. And that was the moment it truly hit her.

She was alone. Even in a room full of people. Even sitting beside the man she had given up everything for. She was alone. And for the first time, she wondered if she had made the biggest mistake of her life. Elena swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing a deep breath. She wouldn't cry—not here, not in front of them. She straightened her shoulders and stood up. "I'll go start dinner," she murmured, giving Liam one last glance. He didn't even look up. As she made her way to the kitchen, she could still hear Victoria and Eleanor whispering. The occasional snicker made her stomach tighten. She opened the fridge, her hands trembling as she reached for ingredients

. Cooking had always been something that calmed her, but today, even the familiar motions felt exhausting. As she diced onions, her vision blurred. Maybe if I do everything right, they'll finally accept me. The thought was pathetic, and she hated herself for it. The sound of the front door opening pulled her from her thoughts. She wiped her eyes quickly, peeking into the living room. Liam stood by the door, slipping on his coat. "Where are you going?" she asked. He barely spared her a glance. "Meeting up with some friends." Her chest tightened. "Oh… I didn't know. Maybe I can come with you?" He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Elena, it's just a casual thing. You don't even know them." "I could get to know them." His jaw clenched. "Not tonight." The rejection hit hard. Before she could say another word, Victoria's voice chimed in. "Oh, Claire is part of that group, isn't she?" Elena felt her stomach drop. Liam hesitated for a second too long before saying, "Yeah. So?" Elena gripped the edge of the counter. "So you're going to see Claire tonight?" Liam exhaled, clearly annoyed. "It's not like that. We're just catching up in a group setting. Stop overreacting." Overreacting. That word sent something sharp through her chest.

She nodded stiffly, forcing a smile. "Okay. Have fun." Liam muttered a quick "Thanks" before walking out, the door clicking shut behind him. The silence that followed was unbearable. Eleanor stood, smoothing her expensive blouse. "I'm sure he'll be back late, dear. No need to wait up." Victoria smirked. "Yeah, don't be one of those wives." Elena's fingers curled into fists. They were testing her, waiting for her to break. She wouldn't. Not here. Not in front of them. She turned back to the stove, ignoring the sound of their laughter fading as they walked away. But as she stirred the simmering pot, a single thought echoed in her mind. The hours stretched unbearably long. The house, once a place she dreamed would be filled with love and warmth, now felt like a cold, empty prison. The untouched meal on the table mocked her as she sat alone in the dimly lit dining room, staring at the door, waiting.

Waiting for a husband who might never truly come back to her. Midnight came and went. Liam hadn't called. Hadn't texted. Hadn't even bothered to let her know if he was okay. The uncertainty clawed at her insides. A sickening feeling curled in her stomach as she debated whether to call him. Would he be annoyed? Would he ignore it? Would he… be with Claire? Her fingers trembled as she picked up her phone, staring at his name on the screen. One call. Just one.Before she could press the button, the front door clicked open. Elena's head snapped up. Liam walked in, his shirt slightly wrinkled, the faint scent of perfume—not hers—lingering in the air. Her heart pounded, a mixture of relief and something darker. "You're late," she said, her voice quiet, controlled.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I told you I'd be out with friends." "You didn't answer my texts." Liam frowned. "Elena, I was busy. You don't need to keep tabs on me." "I'm not keeping tabs on you," she said, standing up. "I'm your wife, Liam. I just—" She hesitated, searching his face for something, anything to make this night feel less like a nightmare. "I was worried." He let out a dry laugh. "Worried? I went out for a few hours, not on a life-threatening mission." The dismissiveness in his tone stung. Elena took a step closer, lowering her voice. "Was Claire there?" Liam stiffened for half a second before exhaling sharply. "Why does it matter?" "Because she's your ex," she said, feeling something break inside her. "Because I sit here alone every night while you go out and act like I don't exist. Because your mother and sister make sure I know I don't belong here." Liam pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted. "God, Elena, can we not do this right now?" "Then when, Liam?" she snapped, her voice shaking. "When will I matter enough to you?" Silence. For the first time, he had no answer. He looked at her, and for a fleeting moment, she thought—hoped—she saw guilt. But just as quickly, his expression hardened. "I'm tired," he muttered. "Let's not fight." He brushed past her, heading upstairs, leaving her standing there with her pain, her doubts, and the undeniable truth settling deep in her bones. Elena stood frozen in the empty hallway, staring at the space Liam had just walked through.

The weight of his indifference pressed heavily on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She turned slowly, looking at the untouched dinner table. The candle she had lit hours ago had melted into a pitiful puddle of wax, its flame long extinguished—just like the warmth between them. Her fingers curled into fists as she fought the sting in her eyes. I won't cry again. Not for him. But the silence was unbearable. The loneliness was suffocating. Upstairs, she could hear the water running from their bathroom. Liam was getting ready for bed, as if nothing had happened. As if she wasn't standing downstairs, unraveling piece by piece. She needed to clear her head.Elena grabbed her coat, slipping into it without a second thought. She wasn't sure where she was going—just that she couldn't stay trapped in this house any longer. She grabbed her keys and quietly stepped outside into the cold night air. The streets were empty, the glow of streetlights casting long shadows as she walked aimlessly.

Her breath came in short, uneven puffs, her mind racing. How did it come to this? She had sacrificed everything for this marriage—her dreams, her career, her independence—and yet, she had never felt more unwanted, more invisible. A vibration in her coat pocket pulled her from her thoughts. A message. For a brief, foolish second, she hoped it was Liam. But when she pulled out her phone, disappointment hit her like a slap. Mom: Sweetheart, are you okay? I had a bad feeling tonight. Call me when you can. Elena stared at the screen, her throat tightening. She had been so distant from her family, too ashamed to tell them how unhappy she was. She had assured them she was fine—told them she was happy. Wasn't that the life she had chosen? Her fingers hovered over the call button, but before she could press it, another sound cut through the silence. Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Elena's body stiffened. She turned her head slightly, her pulse spiking. Someone was behind her. The street was deserted, but she could feel it—an eerie presence just out of sight. She picked up her pace. The footsteps quickened too. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Was it just paranoia? Or was someone really following her?

Elena's breath hitched as she quickened her steps, the rhythmic sound of the footsteps behind her growing louder. Cold air burned her lungs, and a chilling sensation crawled up her spine. Stay calm. Maybe it's just someone walking home… But instinct told her otherwise. She darted a glance over her shoulder. A shadowed figure loomed a few steps behind, face obscured by the dim streetlights. Her stomach twisted with unease. Elena's grip on her phone tightened. Should she call someone? But who? Liam wouldn't care. And she couldn't bring herself to worry her mother—not after pushing her away for so long. She swallowed hard and turned down a side street, hoping to shake off whoever was behind her. The moment she stepped into the alley, regret struck her like a slap. It was too dark. Too quiet. Her pulse pounded in her ears. The footsteps stopped. Silence. She turned slowly, her heart hammering against her ribs. The figure stood at the mouth of the alley, just beyond the reach of the streetlight. "Elena." The whisper of her name sent a chill straight through her. Her blood ran cold. She knew that voice. The realization hit her like a tidal wave. Eleanor. Liam's mother. Elena's breath came in shallow gasps. "W-What are you doing here?" Eleanor stepped forward, her heels clicking against the pavement. There was something disturbingly calm about the way she moved, her eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "I was worried about you," Eleanor said smoothly, tilting her head. "Walking alone at this hour… it's dangerous." Elena's body remained rigid, every muscle screaming at her to run. But she held her ground. "I needed some air," she said cautiously. Eleanor smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "I understand. Marriage can be… suffocating sometimes." She took another step closer, and Elena instinctively backed away. Eleanor noticed. And it pleased her. "Tell me, Elena," she continued, her voice deceptively soft. "Do you regret it yet?" Elena stiffened. "Regret what?" Eleanor let out a low, knowing chuckle. "Choosing him. Walking away from your family, your career—your life." She tsked, shaking her head. "And for what? A man who doesn't even notice when you're gone?" Elena's nails dug into her palms. "Liam loves me." Eleanor raised a perfectly arched brow. "Oh, darling… if that were true, do you really think you'd be out here all alone right now?" The words cut deeper than they should have. Elena wanted to fight back, to tell Eleanor she was wrong. But doubt slithered through her like a poison, sinking into the cracks Liam had left behind. Eleanor took one final step, now only inches away. "You don't belong here, Elena. You never did." Elena's throat tightened. "Is that a threat?" Eleanor's smile never wavered. "No, dear. Just an observation." Then, just as eerily as she had appeared, Eleanor turned and walked away, disappearing into the night. Elena stood frozen, her whole body trembling. Elena stood in the alley long after Eleanor had disappeared, her body numb from the cold—or was it fear? Her breath came in shaky bursts as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold onto something, anything that felt real. You don't belong here. The words echoed in her mind, sharp and deliberate, like knives carving into her already fragile heart. She forced her feet to move, stumbling out of the dark alley and onto the main road. The streetlights flickered above, casting long shadows that made her feel even smaller. She needed to go home. Home. The word felt empty now. By the time she reached the front door, her fingers were ice-cold, trembling as she turned the knob. The house was eerily silent, except for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. She stepped inside, locking the door behind her before pressing her back against it. Would Liam even notice she had been gone? She doubted it. Elena slipped off her shoes and walked toward the living room, her body moving on autopilot. Just as she passed the hallway, a voice stopped her in her tracks. "You were out late." She turned sharply. Liam stood near the staircase, his face partially hidden in the dim light. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, his tie loosened, as if he had just come home as well. "Where were you?" he asked, his tone unreadable. Elena swallowed the lump in her throat. "I just went for a walk." Liam raised a brow. "At this hour?" She hesitated before answering. "I needed some air." He sighed, rubbing his temple. "You should've told me." A bitter laugh almost slipped from her lips, but she held it back. Told him? As if he would have cared. "I didn't think you'd notice," she said softly. Liam frowned at that, finally stepping closer. "Of course, I'd notice, Elena. You're my wife." Elena wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that those words meant something, that they still carried the weight they once did. But tonight, they felt empty. She studied his face, looking for something—anything—that told her he truly meant it. Instead, she found something else. A faint trace of perfume on his collar. Not hers. Her heart clenched. "I ran into your mother," she said, shifting the conversation. Liam's expression darkened. "What did she say?" Elena hesitated. She could tell him everything—about how Eleanor had cornered her, how she had made her feel like an outsider in her own marriage. But would it matter? Would he even defend her? "She just… talked," Elena finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. Liam exhaled, shaking his head. "She's always been like that. You shouldn't take her so seriously." A sharp sting settled in Elena's chest. Of course, he would brush it off. He always did. She forced a small nod and turned away. "I'm going to bed." "Elena." She stopped but didn't turn around. Liam hesitated. For a brief second, it almost seemed like he wanted to say something else—something real. But instead, he sighed. "Goodnight," he muttered. Elena closed her eyes and walked away. Upstairs, she climbed into bed, staring at the empty space beside her.The next morning, Elena woke up to the soft rustling of movement in the bedroom. Blinking against the dim light filtering through the curtains, she turned over and saw Liam standing near the dresser, adjusting his cufflinks. He looked up, meeting her gaze. "You're up early," he said, his voice neutral, as if the tension from last night had never happened. Elena sat up slowly, the weight of exhaustion pressing against her. "Couldn't sleep much." Liam didn't respond, simply running a hand through his hair before grabbing his watch. She expected him to leave without another word, as he usually did. Instead, he paused at the doorway. "Try to rest," he murmured before stepping out. It wasn't much, but it was something. By the time Elena pulled herself out of bed and made her way downstairs, she was met with an unexpected sight. On the kitchen table, where normally only unopened mail and Liam's forgotten coffee cups sat, was a bouquet of flowers. Soft pink roses mixed with white lilies. Her breath hitched. She stared at them for a long moment before reaching out, her fingers grazing the delicate petals. Next to the bouquet was a small note, scribbled in Liam's handwriting. I'm sorry. That was all it said. Elena swallowed the lump in her throat, her fingers tightening around the note. A part of her wanted to believe this meant something—that it was a sign he still cared, that he had noticed her pain. That he was trying. She didn't hear him come in until his voice broke the silence. "They're your favorite, right?" She turned to find Liam standing near the kitchen entrance, his expression unreadable. "They are," she whispered, running her fingers over the petals again. "You remembered?" A small smile tugged at his lips. "Of course." Something inside her softened. For weeks, she had felt like she was slipping away, becoming a ghost in her own home. But this—this small moment—felt like a lifeline. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Liam stepped closer, watching her carefully. "I know things have been… difficult," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't want you to think I don't care, Elena. I do." She clutched the note, holding onto those words like they meant everything. Because to her, they did. "I just want us to be okay," she confessed. Liam let out a breath and reached for her hand, his fingers warm against hers. "We will be." And just like that, a flicker of hope ignited inside her. She wanted to believe him. Elena held onto Liam's words, wanting so desperately to believe them. But deep down, something gnawed at her. His touch, though warm, lacked the tenderness she once knew. His apology, though spoken softly, felt rehearsed—like a script he had memorized, not something he truly felt. She watched him as he poured himself a cup of coffee, his movements casual, as if their argument last night had never happened. As if the silent nights, the cold glances, the empty side of the bed weren't slowly suffocating her. The flowers were beautiful. The note was sweet. But something about it felt… off. Like a distraction. Like a way to silence the doubts creeping into her mind. She forced a small smile, gripping the petals between her fingers as she took in the moment. "We will be okay," she echoed his words, watching him closely. Liam met her gaze, and for the briefest second, she swore she saw something flicker in his eyes—something hesitant, something distant. But just as quickly, it was gone. "Of course we will," he said, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before stepping away. "I have a long day at work. I'll be home late." Late. Again. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As the door shut behind him, leaving her alone in the silence of their home, she finally let out the breath she had been holding. This wasn't real. Not anymore. They were pretending—both of them. Liam, pretending to be the caring husband. And Elena, pretending she still believed it. She looked at the bouquet once more. For the first time, the flowers didn't feel like a sign of love. They felt like an apology for something he wasn't saying. The house was silent after Liam left, the only sound coming from the slow ticking of the wall clock. Elena stood frozen in the living room, staring at the bouquet in her hands. The roses were fresh, their petals soft against her fingertips, but the longer she looked at them, the more they felt like an illusion—something meant to distract her from the growing emptiness in their marriage. With a slow breath, she set them down on the coffee table, pushing away the voice in her head whispering that something wasn't right. Maybe I'm just overthinking things. Determined to shake off the uneasy feeling, she busied herself with house chores. She scrubbed the kitchen counters, rearranged the bookshelves, and even reorganized the closet—all in an attempt to silence her thoughts. But no matter how much she tried, she couldn't erase the way Liam had looked at her that morning. Detached. Distant. Like she was just another part of his routine. By the afternoon, exhaustion weighed down on her, and she sank onto the couch, rubbing her temples. Her phone buzzed, breaking the silence. A message from an unknown number. "You deserve better than this." Elena's stomach twisted as she stared at the words. Who sent this? And more importantly—how did they know? Her fingers trembled as she typed back. "Who is this?" No response. Minutes passed, then an hour, but the message stayed unread. She checked the number again, but there was no contact name, no history—nothing. A shiver ran down her spine. Elena's fingers hovered over her phone, her heart pounding as she reread the message. "You deserve better than this." A chill crept down her spine. Was it a mistake? A prank? Or… did someone know the truth about her marriage? Her throat felt dry as she typed back once more: "Who is this? What do you mean?" No response. Minutes passed. Then an hour. She paced the living room, glancing at her phone every few seconds. The message remained unread. The eerie silence felt suffocating, pressing in on her like an unseen force. Had someone seen the way Liam treated her? Did they know about his ex? About his family's cruelty? Or worse… was there something she didn't know yet? Her stomach twisted with unease. The front door creaked open.