Routine and schedule are everything to Knight. His days start and end the same, and since I moved in, he’s incorporated me into his life, changing and adding to his daily routine to make me a part of it. So for him to disregard me and exclude me from his daily structure feels like a kick in the gut.
Why would he do that? My favorite part of the day is waking up to him sweaty and working out. We have sex in the gym or play around in the pool. After we’re done, he cooks, and I eat breakfast naked on his lap. I don’t understand why he’d choose to cut that out of his morning.
After breakfast, we take a bath, but this morning, he’s already showered and dressed, and somehow that hurts more than everything else. My gaze darts to the tub, and fresh tears spill from my eyes.
I know it’s ridiculous to be heartbroken about him not wanting to help me in the tub, but that’s one of our things. It’s the first time he saw me naked, the first time he told me he’d help, the first step to him putting me back together.
Pushing to my feet, I check the lock on the door, ignore his voice calling me from the bedroom, and walk to the shower, reaching in to turn on the water. The sound of the torrent drowns out his fist against the door and fills my head with the white noise of the water hitting the floor of the shower tray.
Steam starts to fill the bathroom, and I step into the stall, closing the door behind me. For weeks, bathing has become almost a ritual, and it feels wrong to just wash without feeling any of the care I’ve gotten used to associating with the action.
Lathering my skin and hair, my hands move robotically, simply going through the motions. Once I’m done, I turn off the shower and step into the bathroom, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around myself.
Spotting my reflection in the mirror, I hate the hollow look I can see in my eyes, but I ignore it and rub my arms, blotting my hair to soak up the water that’s dripping from the ends. Once I’m dry, I brush out my hair, then pick up my hair dryer, realizing I haven’t styled my own hair in weeks.
Knight takes care of it for me, and it feels foreign to hold the dryer up, watching absently as the strands start to dry. I can hear the sound of his voice, but I ignore it, refusing to process his words.
When he dries my hair, he tends to divide it into pigtails, but today, I pull it up into a high bun on top of my head, not bothering with any of the bows or clips I usually use. Tightening the towel around me, I turn the lock, then open the door, finding an agitated Knight blocking my exit.
“Excuse me,” I say politely, refusing to make eye contact with my husband as I turn to the side and slide past his enormous body, keeping my arms wrapped around myself so that I don’t accidentally touch him.
“Octavia,” he growls, reaching for me.
Darting forward, I avoid his touch, striding to the closet and throwing the door open wide. He’s behind me a moment later, but I ignore him, slipping panties and a bra on before I discard the towel to the floor and stride toward the rail.
Slipping a pair of trousers from the hanger, I pull them on, smoothing the lace down my thighs. The kick flare pants have built-in hot pants to add a little modesty, but are completely sheer from mid-thigh down to my feet. Pairing it with a purple faux corset top that accentuates my barely there breasts, I complete the outfit with chunky black sneakers with a thick platform sole and shiny chrome buckles and fastenings on them.
It’s the first time I’ve worn pants since I came to Rockhead Point, mainly because I prefer skirts and dresses. But today, not only does this outfit make me look like a badass, it also makes it a lot harder for Knight to get anywhere near my pussy.
If he wants to disregard me, then I’ll do the same to him, and he can see how he likes it.
Once I’m dressed, I march past him, enjoying the extra height my sneakers give me. Back in the bathroom, I apply my makeup, only instead of my usual heavy black eyeliner, I give myself a full, dewy, soft Lolita face, complete with lilac eye shadow and pouty glossed lips.
Knight is only inches behind me when I pack the last of my makeup away and turn around. Smiling, I twist to the side and step around him, marching purposefully for the door as he spins around to trail after me.
“Octavia,” he says, calling my name.
“I’m driving today,” I tell him, walking into the kitchen long enough to turn off the warmer on the oven.
“Your breakfast—” he starts.
“I’ll grab something on the way to the studio,” I announce. Taking the keys to the car Knight arranged for me, but that I haven’t driven yet, I stomp into the garage and press the buttonon the fob. When the car beeps, I open the driver’s door and slide into the seat, feeling Knight’s imposing frame only inches behind me.
“I’ll drive us,” he says, leaning into the car, his huge body dominating the space.
“No thanks. I feel like a change. Plus, I haven’t driven this car since you got it for me. It seems a shame for it to just sit in the garage. Are you coming with me, or are you staying here today?” I ask, my voice a little too sweet, a little too upbeat.
“I’ll. Drive,” he says, steely.
“Either get in, or get out of the way,” I tell him, reaching for my seat belt and clicking it into place before I hit the button to start the engine.
“I drive,” he says, like he thinks reminding me of the status quo will help him right now.
“Not today,” I say in a singsong tone, keeping my gaze facing forward toward the garage door that is slowly opening.
Leaning into the car, he reaches over me like he plans to either unfasten my seat belt or turn off the engine. “I’m leaving in three seconds. If you’re not in the car, I’ll assume you’re not coming. But either way, Iamdriving my car to work today,” I say through clenched teeth, refusing to let the tears that are still burning at the back of my eyes fall again.
He takes a step back, and for a moment I think he plans on letting me go, but instead he closes my door, then rounds the car and slides into the passenger seat. The moment his door is closed, I accelerate forward, shooting out of the garage a little too quickly.
