The Unwanted Marriage: Dion and Faye’s Story (The Windsors)

I walk into the house to find Faye seated behind her piano, a soft melancholic melody filling the living room. I pause and stare at her, taking in the pain in her notes, as though her music isn’t meant to be more than a whispered plea. It’s something she wrote herself, no doubt.

I walk up to her and lean in, startling her as I lift her into my arms, her fingers yanked away from the keys unceremoniously. She gasps, but there isn’t a hint of outrage or reluctance in her eyes — she just wraps her arms around my neck and brushes her nose against my throat as I carry her to the sofa.

“What happened?” I ask as I sit down and place her on my lap. She rests her head against my chest and wraps her hand around the side of my neck, seeking comfort.

Things have been near-perfect between us lately. Eric involuntarily brought us closer, and though I’d never admit it, I have him to thank for the way Faye is finally letting me in. Our evenings are spent talking about anything and everything, and she’s no longer holding back. I’ve seen my wife come alive, and it’s been a sight to behold.

It’s also what makes it all the more confusing to find her so desolate tonight. I thought I’d taken care of anything that could upset or hurt her. Where did I go wrong?

“Dion,” she says, her face hidden against my neck. “Did you cut off my family’s access to me? Are you monitoring me?”

I push her upright and carefully study her downcast gaze. “Faye.” My voice falters in light of the betrayal in her tone. I gently place my index finger underneath her chin and lift her face up. “I was just trying to protect you.”

She looks at me then, mistrust in her beautiful blue eyes. “You were trying to control me, or you’d have discussed this with me first.”

I clench my jaw, unsure how to handle this situation. I’m so used to doing whatever the fuck I want with zero consequences I’m uncertain how to respond now. “I saw you at your father’s house. They all dismissed you like you were some kind of accessory, and your father was clearly using you, embezzling funds from you. You were a shell of the woman I know you to be, Faye. You’re right, of course. I should’ve spoken to you, but I don’t regret doing what I did. I’m not going to sit back while someone uses you. I don’t give a fuck if they’re your family.”

Her eyes flash with anger, and she pushes against my chest. “Don’t you see that you’ve only made things worse?”

I stare at her as hopelessness overtakes her expression. “What happened, Faye?” I ask, my stomach sinking.

Tears gather in her eyes, and she draws a shaky breath. “Dion,” she murmurs, her voice breaking. “I need… I need your help.” Her voice breaks on the last word, as though it pains her to have to ask, as though she doesn’t realize that I’d do anything for her.

“Tell me,” I murmur, trying my best to keep my tone even despite the unease running down my spine.

She chokes back a sob and nods, her eyes falling closed for a moment. “It’s my father. Do you remember that day at my house, after dinner? You asked if my father was good to me.”

I nod, my entire body tensing.

“I lied. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

I inhale deeply and nod again. “Yes,” I admit. “I’ve been investigating him for months now. It’s clear he tried to control you financially, and everything you told me about the way you were raised is in line with that motivation, but…” I pause, almost as though not saying the words would make them not true, like some kind of fucked up Schrodinger’s cat bullshit. “I could never determine the extent of his behavior. What I found was enough to make me want to cut him out of your life the way I did.”

She looks into my eyes as a single tear trails down her cheek, it’s path one of destruction. There’s nothing I won’t do to take away the pain that drowns out her beautiful blues. “He wasn’t always like that, you know? When I was younger, he treated me with such care. I’m not sure if it’s me he loved, or if he just loved my potential, but by the end, it was definitely the latter.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and draws a shaky breath. “At first, it wasn’t so bad. I was never given the same freedom as my two half-sisters, but I loved the piano, so I didn’t mind so much. It wasn’t until I was eight and told him I wanted to stop playing that he… that he first hit me.”

My stomach twists, and my blood rushes to my ears, making her words fade away for a moment. It takes all of me to keep my arms wrapped around my wife, to keep calm, when all I want to do is round up her asshole of a father and destroy him.

“I wasn’t allowed to quit, because he was so certain it would give me a way of bridging the distance you enforced. That’s when he was the worst, you know? Each time you were photographed with other women, or when you refused to see me despite being in the country, he’d punish me. He didn’t care that I was a teenager throughout most of your indiscretions, or that our engagement was nothing but a verbal agreement that had little to do with either of us personally. I suppose it wasn’t the insult that mattered — he was scared you’d walk away from the deal between our families, and he needed the money.”

She looks away and lets her eyes fall closed for a moment. “At first, he’d apologize profusely and tell me that disciplining me was part of his job, that he was doing it for me. Over time, he did away with the excuses. You have no idea how many times I considered running away, but he’d warned me if I tried, he’d take out his anger on my stepmom and sisters.”

Faye grits her teeth and looks down at her hands. “Do you have any idea how much it hurts to know that all I am is simply a product of your desires? I have no idea who I’d be if I hadn’t been engaged to you from birth. Would I even be a pianist? Would I have been allowed to make my own friends? Would I have gone to college, and if I did, what would I have chosen to study? I don’t know, Dion. I have no idea who I’d be if not for you, and I hated you for it. I didn’t think that would change, but you… you’ve got me feeling so conflicted. You’re nothing like what I was expecting, and for a while, I thought I was wrong about you. You made me believe that… that you wouldn’t control me the way my father did.”

I tighten my grip on her and shake my head. “Everything I’ve done is to protect you. I would never use you the way he did. Surely you see that?” I ask, my tone pleading. My attempts to protect her have only suffocated her, but there’s no way to undo the decisions I’ve made.

She nods. “I do.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I understand where you’re coming from, Dion. But I… I just wish you’d asked me before doing anything at all. Because you refused to talk to me first, you condemned my sisters. Shortly before we got married, my father stopped hurting me — instead, he’d take his anger out on my little sister, and he’d make me watch, reminding me it wouldn’t have happened if I’d just obeyed, if I’d tried harder at whatever it is he’d decided to be mad about. When you cut him off like that, you endangered my sisters’ lives, and I didn’t even realize it. The only reason I agreed to get married at all was so I could protect my sisters, and you took that from me. I… I don’t know what to do.”

She drops her forehead to my shoulder, and I embrace her tightly as she bursts into tears, pure heartbreak making her entire body shake in my hold. It fucking kills me to see her fall apart like this, even more so because I only have myself to blame for it.

Every bit of pain she experienced throughout the years was a direct result of my actions. Every single bit of harm that’s come to her has been because of me.

“I can make him disappear.”

She tenses and shakes her head. “I’d be no better than him if I hurt him, Dion. I don’t want to become a monster like he is, and I don’t want you to become one because of me either. Please don’t stain your hands like that on my behalf. Promise me.”

My wife pulls back a little to look into my eyes, and I nod reluctantly, unable to deny her. She studies me for a moment, before finally relaxing back into my embrace when she finds the reassurance she was looking for.

“I don’t know what to do, Dion,” she whispers, her breath caressing my neck, “but I do know I need help.”

“You’ve got it,” I promise. “You’ve got me.”