Chapter Text
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𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟢𝟣
Her husband was out drinking again.
She used to give a fuck about this kind of thing, but now it was just another day. The old her would’ve been bothered and probably pissed out her mind, but that person was long gone. Her husband was an adult; whatever he did out there was his business, not hers anymore.
Or..she simply burned out all the fight in her trying to convince her husband to straighten up. After all, whenever she did, it only left her black and blue and pinned on the bed in a session of very angry and dry sex.
Try as she may, her husband was a lost cost.
She sighed as she sat outside the porch balcony of their mansion, it was serene and quiet. A blissful peace she can never have in the presence of her husband.
Her friends had lost count of how many times they’d told her to ditch the deadbeat bastard, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew the strings tied to him weren’t so easily cut. It was all thanks to that godforsaken business deal her parents shoved down her throat.
Back then, she was young, dumb, pretty, and way too goddamn available for her own good.
Sometimes she wished her dad invested on a time machine instead so she can reject the stupid offer of marrying the deadbeat bachelor who was “head over heels” for her and probably lived a life of peace, the same peace she was enjoying that moment.
Fed up with her miserable mock of a peaceful day, she stood up abruptly, her silver wedged heels clicking lightly upon contact with the hardwood flooring of their modern-day mansion obnoxiously loud that it slowly ate away at her patience.
It was like a constant reminder of her stupid childish decisions; giving away her life and freedom for a dong smaller than the banana she ate every morning and a few more stashes of cash.
Sue her for real because this was not the life she planned out in her 5-year-old head when she was younger.
Reality pains, am I right?
The halls of the house were just as obnoxious as the sharp clack of her heels. Wide, sprawling, and with ceilings so fucking high they felt like they belonged in a cathedral. Why the fuck were they so high? Probably to accommodate her husband’s bloated ego—and, unsurprisingly, even that wasn’t enough.
Begrudgingly, she made her way up the spiral stairs and to her room. Keyword: HER room. That’s right, she and that bastard of a man no longer shared rooms. They stopped on the 5th time she received an unfair beating after she failed to cook him and his “buddies” dinner after watching a football game.
That was her final straw.
As she stepped inside, Courtney let out a sigh. Her room was neat—technically—but to her, it might as well have been a disaster. Maybe it was just her. Maybe her life had become so pathetic, so utterly miserable, that she couldn’t help but project that onto everything around her.
With another weary breath, she trudged toward the vanity by her bed and sank onto the cushioned stool. Staring at her reflection, she took in the current state of herself.
She was still beautiful—just as she had been back in the day. Her thick brunette hair still swayed fluidly with every movement, luscious as ever. Her lips, though neglected for years, remained just as plump as when she used to care about them.
All things considered, she was still the same goddess people once fawned over, the one they had wished they could marry when she was younger.
She was literally a walking wet dream.
Now she was hidden, reserved, collecting dust in her deadbeat asshole of a husband’s mansion.
She sneered at the reflection of herself and abruptly stood up from the stool having enough of her face, too exhausted and dispirited to dwell in her misery.
To be honest, she never really grew out of her old self as much as she wanted to believe. She was the same woman who’d bend over for any handsome man who’d put her shoe on for her. But to be fair she thinks if she could ever change her life decisions she’d choose a brick of a unit over a lavish rock.
If only wishes came true.
With an exasperated huff, she flipped off her reflection before kicking her sandals into opposite corners of the room. Then, without a second thought, she dove onto her bed, sinking into the soft embrace of her comforter.
The warmth wrapped around her, pulling her into the kind of deep sleep she desperately hoped would last a little longer this time.
This is it.
The dreary life of Courtney Satella. Harvard’s straight A princess turned housewife at 25.
What a glamorous life it is.
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡