Masked up affection.
Your conflicting heart braces war in my shattered soul.
"Are you mad?" Camila looked at me with a scowl across her face while holding up her tea cup and saucer elegantly. I applaud her elegant nature and how she carries herself with no care for the world. She's married to the second prince of Belize, Carl Albert Einstein. A man who shows her more affection than he does to his job as a prince, I envy her sometimes.
"Call me what you please, but I must not miss the maskball; you know how important it is to me, Camila." I responded stubbornly.
"And I must say it is rather stupid to act on it; why go to the maskball every year when you know it's the same results it yields?" Even with how angry she was, she managed to keep the teacup and saucer perfectly on the table; she was indeed a perfectionist.
"I just have to go; the ball dance is the only way I can feel a little of Alexander's affection; you forget he is in love with the mysterious maiden who dances with a mask on." I mumbled, staring into my untouched tea.
Camila won't understand my agony and my unending thirst for my husband's affection. At a very tender age, I was betrothed to Alexander Martinez Edward the Fourth, the Duke of Windsor. And never has he touched or slept with me for the last 5 years of marriage, but I came to realize that Alexander had fallen in love with me as the mysterious dancer after our first year of marriage. I remember he was never around, and as such, I grew bored out of my mind, so when the invitation came for the maskball, I quickly snatched the opportunity, and there I met my beloved husband, and we danced and danced. It was quite funny that he never recognized me.
He talked to the masked girl as if he knew her, like they were friends. He told me how he hated his marriage and how his wife could never be what he wanted. He was unhappy because of me, his wife. He had acrimonious ways of expressing them. And I couldn't find it in me to tell him I was his wife, so I kept it to myself. And even with my mask, I never told him my identity. Yet with every season the maskball was announced, we were there ready to dance like lovers, and I was too afraid to lose that.
"Alexander is one stupid nimrod. That I know of, one that doesn't deserve you; he taunts with you and your feelings, yet you let him; going to this ball only proves it further. And I feel sorry for you, my dear Valeria; you are just too wonderful to be going through all this." Camila glanced at me with saddened eyes.
"I will reveal myself to him, and after that, I will end things with him." An unwanted pang settled in my chest as I responded.
"It's the right thing to do." Camila held my chin in her hands as she wiped off the tears rushing down. I didn't even know I was crying. I just nodded in response.
The ballroom was always memorized to me; from an early age, I followed my parents to different balls. I took a lot of classes on dancing, and when I was of age, I danced exquisitely more than my peers, of course. Even Camila couldn't match up with all her years of training to be a perfect dancer.
I decided against any bright color this year; gold and black just went perfectly for the occasion. My eyes wander around the dancing couples, looking happy. I smiled sadly, but that's until I felt a hand on my shoulder that had me flinching out of my skin, turning around to see who wanted to scare me to my early grave. My breath hitched, and my heart did those double flips before it started pounding hard in my chest.
Alexander Martinez Edward is my husband. Handsome as ever, staring at me through those masks, the mask did nothing to hide those dark, beautiful eyes as they locked into mine. And that smile. If only he had come home for the last 6 months, maybe I wouldn't miss him as much as I do right now.
"Mi'lady." He greeted me with that smile sprouting on his face as his eyes flickered up and down my dress before he reached out for my hand, placing a soft kiss on it. "Do me the honor of dancing with me." I said. And his thick accent was just enough to make me say yes.
His hand was nuzzling around my waist as we walked to the middle of ballroom, dancing to the slow music playing in the background.
"You look incredible as always."
"Likewise, you look dashing in white." I complimented his back, gracing him with a smile.
"You know, sometimes I wonder what you look like behind those masks." He murmurs, and I avert my eyes from his. It felt like the more he looked at me, the more he'd find out who I was.
"Well, my handsome gentleman, you might be disappointed by what you see beneath this mask." I stated as he gently whirled me away from him, then pulled me back gently as the song changed.
"Why will I be disappointed by the face of the woman who stole my heart?" I smiled almost sadly, knowing fully well that he would be disappointed, even hurt. But I had to remind myself that tonight wasn't all about my cheating husband; it was about what I wanted—my decision to stay in a loveless marriage and gain little to nothing by pretending to be a stranger to my husband just for his affection.
"You know what, my dear Alexander, I don't care what you think because I have made my decision." I blurted.
"Oh, okay, Mi'lady. And what might that be?" He queried.
I pressed my finger pointedly to his chest; at this point, we weren't even dancing anymore. "I am so tired of waiting for you to love me as your wife!" I removed my mask, revealing my face. To say Alexander was shocked was just underestimating the state; he was blown out of his mind, and his mouth opened like he was gasping for air. Camila should be here somewhere to see Alexander Martinez Edward the fourth, scared with wide eyes staring at me.
"I have been the one behind the mask, behind the cast, even behind that heart of yours. Yet you never knew me as a wife; instead, you prefer me as a mysterious maiden you have had fun with and danced with for the last 5 years. And now you dare tell me about your feelings when you never regard mine. The divorce papers await my lawyer by noon tomorrow."
That was the last thing I said to him before he walked out of him, of that ball, and out of his life. I refuse to be subjected to his loveless affection.