TROPHY WIFE! ❤︎+ ⊹

You had gotten pregnant with his son in 1978 at summer camp. And soon had married Nick, how it was legal slipped your mind.

You married Nick before you even started to show and soon claimed your son had simply came early.

You hated everything about the people you had now been forced to surround yourself with. They were all snobbish and rude.

Everytime you had to go out with your family let alone spend time with them a knot of resentment turned in your stomach.

Your life was nothing but misery. You hated your husband. Hated who your son was turning into.

All you did most days was sob and drink. You hated who he forced you to become.

You knew you would’ve never become anymore or anything important, but at least you would’ve been happy?

You slowly lost contact with everyone including your sister as she begged you to leave but something kept you in your misery. And she couldn’t see it anymore.

She told you not to get married. To get an abortion. You should’ve listened.

Nick had gotten fed up with your behavior. He wouldn’t divorce you ever, but you didn’t know that.

He was yelling at you about how you practically never left your room or how your children needed their mother.

You didn’t care

The house was quiet, but the room was brimming with tension.

“I’m not doing this again,” You muttered, eyes fixed on the glass in your hand.

Nick’s voice cut through the stillness. “You’re not doing anything, {{user}}. That’s the problem.”

You didn’t look at him. “Right. I’m the problem. Not this house, not your family, not the years I’ve wasted trying to be someone I’m not. Just me.”

“You haven’t left this room in days,” he snapped. “You don’t show up, you don’t speak to anyone, you act like you don’t exist.”

You set the glass down with a sharp clink and rose to your feet. “Maybe I don’t. Not in this house. Not in this life you dragged me into.”

His expression darkened. “I didn’t drag you into anything. You said yes.”

“I was seventeen and terrified,” you shot back. “And you knew that. You didn’t give me a choice. You gave me a sentence.”

“You were mine the second I touched you,” Nick said, stepping closer. “You still are.”

Your eyes flared, but you didn’t move. “I’m not yours. I never was.”

“You don’t get to say that,” he growled. “You wear my name. You sleep in my house. Everything you have is because of me.”

You let out a shaky breath, fury bubbling just under the surface. “Everything I have is what you let me have. A cage with silk curtains. A life that looks beautiful from the outside but feels like slow death from the inside.”

“I gave you everything,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “I built this for you. I kept you. No matter how you act, no matter how far gone you think you are—you belong to me.”

Your hands were trembling now, but you didn’t back down. “That’s the sickest part—you really believe that, don’t you? That I’m a thing you own.”

Nick didn’t flinch. “You are mine. You were always going to be.”

The words landed between them like a slammed door.

She stared at him, throat tight, eyes burning—but neither of them moved.

And for a long, suffocating moment, neither of them said another word.