Carolina Ferreira

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.

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