Sarah
Matthew helps into the boat, his hand warm and steady on mine, but he lets go quickly, not eting my eyes.
"Are you okay?" I ask after we get back to our room.
"Fine," he says curtly.
"You've been so quiet ever since we got back. Are you angry at , Matthew? What did I do this ti?" I ask.
"Nothing, Sarah. Absolutely nothing. I just want a mont of peace. Is that alright with you?" he snaps.
I flinch at the sharpness in his tone, my chest tightening. "I wasn't trying to bother you," I say softly. "I just thought—"
"You just thought what?" he cuts in, running a frustrated hand through his damp hair. "That we could pretend everything is fine? That today sohow changed anything?"
His words hit like a slap, and I take a step back. "I don't know what you want from , Matthew. One mont, you're laughing with , holding , and the next, you hate again."
Matthew exhales sharply, turning away. His fists clench at his sides like he's trying to hold sothing back. "I got carried away and lost myself. It won't happen again."
"Whatever, I am going to bed," I huff, striding toward the bathroom to change into so dry clothes. Today was a fun day, but of course, Matthew had to ruin it for . For us.
When I step out of the bathroom, Matthew is sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together like he's deep in thought. He doesn't look at .
Fine. If he wants to be distant, I won't push.
I climb into bed, turning my back to him, pulling the blanket up to my chin.
"I want to talk," I say.
Matthew lets out a loud sigh, but I ignore it. "Talk to ," I urge him again.
His jaw tightens, and he finally looks at , his blue eyes stormy with frustration. "What do you want to say?"
"The truth, Matthew! What do you want from ?" My voice wavers, but I don't care.
He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "I told you. I want you to suffer."
"For how long? Till death do us part? You will suffer too, don't you see that? Because I can see treating badly is not making you happy either," I remind him.
He scoffs, shaking his head.
"You think you know so well, don't you?" His voice is quiet, but there's an edge to it. "You think you can read like a book and find so kind of weakness to hold against ?"
I sit up, my frustration boiling over. "This isn't about weaknesses, Matthew! This is about you punishing both of us for sothing that's already done. You say you want to suffer, but you're suffering just as much."
His fists clench at his sides. "Maybe that's the point."
I stare at him, my chest tightening. "So that's it? You want both of us to be miserable forever?"
"Go to bed, Sarah," and turns his back on again.
I clench my fists, my heart aching. "No."
Matthew stiffens at my refusal, his shoulders tensing. He slowly turns back to face , his eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"
I swallow hard but hold his gaze, determined not to back down this ti. "I said no. I'm tired of this, Matthew. I'm tired of the constant push and pull, the hot and cold. You can't keep doing this to , to us."
"You don't get to make demands of ," he says.
"I'm not making demands. I'm asking for so clarity and so consistency. You say you hate , but then you have monts where it seems like..." I trail off.
"I am tired, Sarah. All I want is for you to leave alone and stop being so goddamn needy," Matthew says and turns his back on again.
"Ugh! Fine!" I cry out in frustration and turn the other way too.
This is impossible.
~-~
The next morning, I find myself alone in bed.
A feeling of dread suddenly overwhelms .
Oh god, where is Matthew? Did he leave alone on this Island?
But no...that's silly. Matthew wouldn't just leave like that. He probably stepped out for a bit.
I throw the blanket off and quickly get up, glancing around the room. His clothes are still here, his bag untouched. He is still here.
Taking a deep breath, I step toward the window, pushing the curtains aside. I scan the beach, my stomach twisting in knots, until I finally spot him.
Matthew stands near the water, his hands in his pockets, staring out at the ocean.
I slip on my sandals and step outside, the warm sand soft beneath my feet as I make my way toward him. He doesn't move, doesn't even acknowledge until I'm close enough that the breeze carries my voice to him.
"You are up early," I say.
Matthew exhales, still not looking at . "Needed air."
"It's our last day in Aruba, and I don't want to fight," I tell him.
"Yeah, neither," he murmurs.
"Then let's not," I say gently. "Just for today, can we pretend like you don't hate ?"
Matthew finally turns to . "Fine," he says quietly.
I swallow, nodding slowly. "What should we do on our last day?"
Matthew holds my gaze for a long mont before looking back at the water. "I don't know. What do you want to do?"
I exhale, relieved he isn't shutting out completely. "Maybe we could go into town? Get so breakfast, walk around a little?"
He shrugs. "Sure."
It's not much, but it's sothing.
We take a taxi into town. I pick a small café by the water.
Matthew orders black coffee. I get a latte. The server leaves us alone, and for a while, neither of us speaks.
I stir my latte absentmindedly, glancing at Matthew over the rim of my cup. He's focused on the waves beyond the café's terrace, lost in thought.
I clear my throat. "So... when we get back, I have so plans for the company."
Matthew looks at briefly before returning to the ocean. "Yeah?" he asks.
I nod, deciding to push through even if he doesn't seem interested. "I've been working on a new expansion project. I want to branch into international markets, starting with Europe."
He raises an eyebrow, finally looking at fully. "The logistics must be a nightmare," he comnts, leaning back in his chair.
"It is," I admit. "But I like challenges."
"Guess I'll have to agree with that, Boss," he says.
I let out an awkward laugh. "Don't call that."
"You are my boss, are you not? You have all under control just like you wanted," he says in a bitter tone.
"You can leave anyti you want. Find another company to work for. You are qualified," I say sharply.
"Ah, letting free, are you? Now that you've got chained to you for life through marriage," Matthew says.
I feel my throat tighten. I try to swallow it down to keep my emotions in check.
"That's not how it is," I say quietly, my voice betraying a hint of frustration. "I thought we agreed not to fight today," I remind him.
He exhales. "Right. Sorry."
The tension between us lingers.
When the server returns to clear our plates, Matthew requests the check. As we wait, he drums his fingers on the tabletop, agitated energy radiating off him.
I sigh. "Maybe we should just head back to the hotel and pack."
Matthew's hand stills. "No. We said we'd spend the day together. This is the last day in paradise before we go back to our miserable lives, so we are going to make the most of it."
I look at him with surprise. "Okay. What do you want to do then?"
He thinks for a mont. "I heard soone talk about so strip mall. Maybe we can get so shopping done. I should buy so souvenirs for my sister."
"Sure," I say, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I feel.
"Alright then," Matthew says. "Let's go."
We leave the café and catch a taxi to the strip mall. When we arrived, it was not exactly what I expected. It's a small collection of shops, not glamorous but very charming.
"This is so cute!" I chirp.
Matthew smiles quietly but doesn't respond.
"So," I break the silence. "What do you think she'd like?" I ask.
"Who?" Matthew asks, turning to look at with furrowed brows.
"Your sister," I remind him.
"Oh," he says, his expression softening just slightly. "Probably sothing traditional. Aruba's got a lot of arts and crafts."
I nod, looking around for a shop that might have sothing like that. "I see. Well, we can find sothing nice."
"Yeah," Matthew mutters, his eyes scanning the shops.
I watch Matthew as he strolls through the market. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry, but he also isn't showing much enthusiasm. I wonder if he is just trying to distract himself. Trying to ignore .
I follow him as he stops at a small stand with handcrafted jewelry. The vendor, an elderly woman with a kind smile, gestures toward a display of delicate necklaces and hairpins.
"Can I look at that necklace?" he asks, pointing at a necklace.
"This?" she says, holding up a small butterfly necklace made of silver and tiny pieces of colorful stone.
Matthew tilts his head, studying it for a mont. Then, without saying much, he nods and pulls out his wallet, handing the woman the cash. She smiles warmly, wrapping the necklace carefully in tissue paper and handing it to him.
"Hailey will love this," I say quietly, taking a step closer.
Matthew doesn't look at . "It's not for her," he murmurs.
"Then..." I start, but he interrupts .
"Amanda likes butterflies," he says matter of factly.
He bought it for Amanda. Of course.
I feel sick to my stomach, but I try to push it down. "She is seeing soone else, Matthew. Don't you think it will be inappropriate to give her a gift like this?"
"What I give her is none of your business, Sarah," he says curtly.
"I am your wife, so it is my business," I counter.
"So what do you want to do? Return it? Or better yet, I should throw it in the ocean to satisfy you. Yeah, let's do that," he snarls.
"Whatever, Matthew, give it to her if you want. I don't care," I snap and walk away from him. I know he is only doing this to hurt . And I am letting him succeed.
Pfft...let him shower Amanda with gifts if it makes him happy. It's not like he is willing to make this marriage work anyway.
I turn my attention toward another stall and try not to look at him.
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