Carolina,

"I now pronounce you husband and wife." The priest's words washed over me like a blessing. Marrying Henrique Rodrigues was everything I'd ever dreamed of. He was one of the most powerful men in Sao Paulo, and by some twist of fate, he'd noticed me after I saved his mother from a mugging. "You may kiss the bride, Mr. Rodrigues."

He glanced around in every direction before stepping close and pressing his lips to mine. I was the happiest woman in the world. My life from now on would be nothing but joy. Henrique stayed serious, the way he'd always been, but that didn't bother me anymore. It was just who he was.

We moved on to the reception — simple, but beautiful. We'd hired a catering company to handle everything, though I'd only picked the foods Henrique liked best. I tried to hold his hand, but he crossed his arms without looking at me. I told myself that with time, he'd soften. He'd love me the same way I loved him.

"Want to dance, my love?" I asked, barely containing my excitement. He side-eyed me and shook his head.

"I don't know how to dance, and I hate this kind of thing. Let's just cut the cake and get out of here. I need to work."

"Okay, let's go." His mother approached us before we reached the dessert table.

"It's time for the waltz — the bride and groom start." He huffed and rolled his eyes. I placed my hand on his arm and smiled at her.

"We're not going to dance. Henrique doesn't like it." She shot him a look that could kill. He yanked his arm free, making me let go, and walked straight to the dessert table. "It's fine, Dona Vera. I'm tired too."

She gave a weak smile, and we followed Henrique. He didn't hold my hand to cut the cake — I did it alone. He was more distant than before. I wished he were as happy as I was.

We left the reception and drove straight to our new house. His mother had made him buy it for the two of us, since he'd been living in a bachelor's apartment before the wedding. When we reached the hallway with the bedrooms, he stopped and opened the first door.

"This is your room. Do whatever you want with it — change the colors, the furniture, whatever. It's yours."

"My room? What do you mean? We're not sleeping together, Henrique?"

"I don't sleep with anyone. And let me be clear — you can own this house and everything in it, but you'll never own me. I'm going to take a shower and go out with my friends."

"But it's our honeymoon, you can't do this, I—" He turned his back and started down the hall. "Henrique, I'm talking to you."

"Fuck off." He walked into his room and slammed the door. I stood frozen, staring down the hallway where he'd gone. I'd never given myself to anyone. I wanted it to be special, with the love of my life, and when I met Henrique, I'd always dreamed of giving myself to him. So why was he so cold to me?

I walked to his bedroom door and found it locked. I looked down — I was still wearing my wedding dress. He needed to see me out of it, in something that would make him want me.

I ran to my room, took a quick shower, and put on my sexiest nightgown. I let my hair down, and even though I felt a little embarrassed, I opened the door and waited. When he came out, he walked toward me and I smiled — I knew he wouldn't be able to resist. But he stopped right in front of me and said:

"Don't wait up. I don't know when I'll be back." He walked right past me and left.

I stood there, lost, trying to understand what had just happened. I stared ahead for a long moment, then headed for his room. I opened the door and went inside.

Everything was decorated in shades of black and gray — strange for a man who'd just gotten married. I went to his closet and started looking through it. Behind the rows of clothes, I found a beautiful red dress. It had a plunging neckline and a high slit up the leg.

I pulled it out and held it up in front of the mirror. It wasn't mine, and it never would've been — it looked like it belonged to a tall woman. The perfume clinging to it was so cloyingly sweet it nearly made me gag. I put it back in the closet. I started looking around the room and went to the nightstand, pulling open the drawer.

Inside was a book with a red cover. I picked it up and began flipping through the pages until a photograph slipped out from between them. A blonde woman wearing the exact red dress from the closet. I turned the photo over. On the back, an inscription:

"A little something so you never forget me, Rick."

The photo fell from my hands. My entire world shattered. I remembered seeing that woman at our wedding — I just hadn't known who she was. To me, she'd been just another one of his guests. But it was clearly more than that.

*No. Calm down, Carol. It could just be a misunderstanding. Don't do anything rash.* I picked up the photo, tucked it back into the book, and returned it to the drawer. I went back to my room and lay down, but sleep wouldn't come.

The hours dragged on, and when I finally looked at the window, dawn had broken. I hadn't heard his car pull in or his footsteps in the hall. He definitely hadn't come home.

I got up, went to the bathroom, washed my face, got dressed, and drove to Henrique's company. I hoped he'd be there.

Carolina,

When I got to the company, I went straight up to his office. Everyone there knew me — they knew I was Henrique's wife. His secretary spotted me and hurried over.

"Mrs. Rodrigues, what are you doing here so early?"

"I came to see my husband. Is something wrong?"

"No, it's just that he hasn't come in yet. I thought you two would be on your honeymoon — he canceled all his meetings for the week." I stared at her, confused. He'd told me there wouldn't be a honeymoon because he needed to work.

"He said he was coming by to pick up some documents before we left." I lied to save face. "I'll head home. He must've changed his mind on the way. He said he was planning a surprise for me, but I'm too impatient — do you know where we're going?"

"He said you were going to Ilhabela, but don't tell him I told you, okay?" I smiled and nodded. I turned around and walked out of the building toward my car.

A few minutes later, I pulled into the driveway. The staff were already working, but his car wasn't in the garage, which meant he hadn't come home at all. I let out a sigh and went inside, heading straight to my room.

As the days went by, Henrique always came home late. I tried everything to get his attention — I even made his favorite dish. But he'd eat, then go back to his room and lock himself inside, as if I hadn't done a thing to please him.

I took a deep breath. I needed to make a move before this marriage fell apart completely. I walked to his room and heard the shower running. This was my chance to show him I was all his. I took off my clothes right there in the bedroom and walked into the bathroom. His back was turned, so I stepped in quietly, and when I entered the shower, he spun around with a startled look.

"What the hell are you doing in here, Carolina?"

"We've been married for a week, and you haven't touched me once. I've been saving myself for the love of my life, and that's you, Henrique."

"Do you love me, or do you love my money and the life of luxury I give you?"

"What? I've never spent your money on anything frivolous. Everything I have, your mother gave me. How can you think that about me?"

"Get out, and don't ever come into my room again. This is off-limits to you." I moved closer and touched his chest — so beautiful, perfectly sculpted with muscle. "Get out!" He grabbed my wrists and shoved me back.

"I'm your wife. Why did you marry me if you weren't going to touch me?"

"I married you because my mother told me to. But I don't have any feelings for you. Now get out. I won't say it again." His words hurt worse than a slap across the face. My heart clenched so tight it felt like it was being crushed.

I just nodded and turned away. I grabbed my clothes and ran to my room. I collapsed onto the bed and started to cry. He didn't marry me because he wanted to — he married me out of obligation. His mother was grateful that I'd saved her, but I was paying a steep price for it. I loved a man who didn't love me, and judging by his late nights, he didn't respect me either.

A month passed. I still hadn't figured out who the blonde in the photo was, but I'd caught the same perfume from that red dress on his clothes. We weren't a couple. We were two strangers living under the same roof. I did everything I could to get his attention, but he didn't notice me, didn't see me — it was like I was invisible. At twenty-three years old, I was still a virgin because he'd never once taken me to bed.

I got up, walked to the bathroom, and splashed water on my face.

"Enough crying, Carol. Time to turn things around. If he thinks I'm only with him for the money, then I'll be the wife who spends it all. I'm going to transform myself into a new woman. Let's see how far your hatred goes, Henrique Rodrigues."

I put on the nicest outfit I owned, though my plan now was to replace my entire wardrobe. I grabbed my purse and walked out. It was nighttime, but if he could stay out all night, so could I. I got in my car and drove to my childhood friend's place. Since she lived alone, I could vent as much as I needed.

"Carol? I thought you'd be on your honeymoon. What are you doing here?" She pulled me inside and we walked to her living room.

"Bia, I need your help. I'm only married on paper. My husband is an iceberg, and I can't take living with him anymore. Can you believe Henrique thinks I married him for his money?"

"I love it when men are like that, because when they fall, they rarely get back up. I'm going to help you. We're changing everything — your look, your clothes, your attitude. If he didn't appreciate you when you were being good, he'll appreciate you when you're being bad."

"I don't know if I can do it. I love him so much. But he doesn't love me — he won't even look at me. What am I supposed to do, dye my hair blonde?"

"You're not doing that. Never change who you are just to get someone's attention. If you're going to change, it has to be because you want to. Relax, okay? I'll be right here for whatever you need. Come on, chin up. We're turning this around. Let's make you unavailable to that asshole husband of yours."

As strange as it all sounded, she was right. I'd been too clingy. But wasn't that how a wife was supposed to be? Always there when her husband needed her?

"Here, put this on. We're going out."

"Bia, is this really necessary?" I held the outfit at arm's length, looking at it. This was definitely not the kind of thing I'd normally wear.

"It's perfect. If he can stare at other women who show off their bodies, you can show yours off for other men to stare at. You used to be more fun, Carol. Don't be an old grouch."

I agreed and started changing. Then she grabbed her purse, and we left her place. We got in my car and headed to a nightclub.

Carolina,

We walked in, and Bia ordered two drinks from the bartender right away. Gin and energy drink with a massive ice cube in a tall glass. We paid and headed for the dance floor.

"Forget you're married. Just enjoy the music. You don't have to flirt with anyone — just have fun." I nodded, and we started dancing together.

The song changed and the alcohol really started to hit. I loosened up, dancing freely, as if Henrique didn't exist. But just as I was about to take another sip, a large hand grabbed me and pulled me off the dance floor.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Henrique? I... I..."

"You're a married woman. You should be at home."

"And so should you. You should be home with your wife, fucking her, not leaving her alone. If you don't give attention, you open the door to competition, Henrique."

"Oh, so you're not the little saint my mother thought you were. You manipulated her into making me marry you, and now here you are dressed like this, talking about competition?"

"Go to hell, you piece of shit. I didn't manipulate anyone into anything." I shoved him hard, sending him stumbling back. "You know what? I'm done. I want a divorce."

Henrique burst out laughing. He grabbed my arm and started dragging me toward the exit. I tried to pull my hand free, but his grip was like iron. When we got to his car, Bia appeared, trying to be my lawyer.

"Let her go, Henrique. If you don't want her, someone else will."

"Mind your own business!" He shouted at her and practically threw me into the car. He slammed my door shut and walked around to the driver's side. I looked back at Bia through the window, and she smiled, giving me a wink. "You're going to stay home and do what you've always done — your job as a wife."

"I'm not. I'm not going to be your wife anymore — actually, I never was. So why are you demanding this now?" He went silent, and that infuriated me. "Stop the car. I want to get out." He ignored me and pressed the accelerator harder.

A few minutes later, we pulled into the driveway and I got out first. I looked at him, still gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles had gone white.

"And you're still wearing an outfit like that. Are you really so desperate to fuck that you'd do it with just anyone?"

"Yes, I would. You think only men have needs? I've been saving myself for you until now, but even if it's not tonight, I'm going to lose my virginity to a stranger." He punched the steering wheel and threw his door open. I ran inside and went straight to my room, locking the door behind me.

I waited for him to come after me, but he didn't. I didn't even hear his footsteps in the hallway. I walked out to the balcony and saw him getting back into the car and driving off. Asshole. Idiot. Only you get to go out, right? Let's see what you do tomorrow when I leave.

I went to the bathroom, took off my clothes, and put on my pajamas. This was the last time I'd wear them. Starting tomorrow, nightgowns only. If he wanted me to act like a wife, then that's exactly what I'd do.

***

The next morning, I woke up early and went straight to freshen up. When I opened my wardrobe, I really saw what Bia had been talking about. Everything I owned was frumpy and conservative — it genuinely made me look older.

I pulled everything out and laid it on the bed, looking for something I could wear to go shopping. I left the house right as Henrique was coming home, and to make things worse, he looked like he'd been drinking all night.

"Don't piss me off!" he said, getting out of the car and slamming the door.

I got in my car, swallowing my anger, because I wasn't going to confront him anymore. That way, he couldn't confront me either. I was done. I'd hit my limit with everything, and if he wanted a marriage that was just for show, then so be it.

I started the engine, and he stood there watching me. I checked the rearview mirror as I pulled out through the gate — he was still standing there like a lamppost. I drove to a well-known store in Morumbi and went on a massive shopping spree, completely reinventing my style — going back to who I was before I met Henrique. When I got to the register to pay, I heard two women behind me talking.

"You really hit the jackpot. Better than winning the lottery, because that money's never running out."

"What can I say? He loves me, he's crazy about me. Too bad his mother forced him to marry that doormat, because I should be the one with all of Henrique's money." When I heard his name, I glanced back and found myself staring at the blonde from the photo. I turned forward again. It was like my entire world had collapsed.

He was bankrolling her. Giving her everything she wanted, just for the pleasure of having her by his side, even as his mistress. I closed my eyes and fought back the tears, because no matter how much this hurt, I couldn't let it show.

I swiped the credit card he'd given me at our engagement — the first time I'd ever used it — grabbed my bags, and carried them to the car. And there, inside, with no one watching, I let myself cry. I let all the pain I was feeling pour out through my eyes.

I just couldn't understand why he'd agreed to marry me when he loved another woman. Even with his mother pressuring him, he was a grown man. He could have said no. Seeing her in the photo had hurt, but seeing her in person and hearing everything she'd said hurt a thousand times more. I wiped my face, started the car, and drove home.