Casanova Brief of Widows

Chapter 23

ARUMI POV

being a widow is not my desire. I got married at a very young age. At the age of twenty, I married my parents' second choice. At the age of twenty-one I gave birth to a child without a husband.

I was forced to marry that man, the man whose parents were my father's best friends. They did match us up because our masters wanted their relationship to stay old. I have no power to refuse, because my father is sickly and often in and out of the hospital. I don't want it because my refusal leads to a recurrence of his illness.

At the beginning of the meeting, Arkan and I had a good time, even until we got married, despite not being in love and not knowing each other, we tried to have a good relationship. I was married in college at the time. He understood very well that I was not ready to have children. I still want to go to college and work according to my goals.

Although delaying the boogeyman, I don't mind if I have to serve him. We are doing this relationship safely. I who went to medical school understood how to have a safe relationship so as not to get pregnant. He's so good to me, understand me and pay attention to me.

Until one day, it was me and Arkan who tried to keep the end conceded as well. At our third wedding, I was pregnant. I try to accept this with a big heart, even if it is not my wish, I am still grateful and love my son.

However, it is different from my husband who actually accused me of cheating with other men. He felt like he had never taken all of his viscous liquid out of my bowl. That's what he always says when I talk about children.

He also accused me of cheating and having sex with other men. Just because he saw me with a man. Even though at that time I was not only two, I was crowded with my girlfriends as well.

"I'm doing my job. After all, I'm not just old with my boy friend. I was with some girlfriends too. I am married, I know the boundaries of association that can and cannot be. So far as you think I'm cheating?"

Plaque!

One slap on my cheek. I don't know how much my cheek fell victim to his rough touch. Ever since she found out I was pregnant, she's been getting rough on me. She always said I was carrying a child from my affair. There is absolutely no compassion for me.

Since I was pregnant, my life has suffered. I am like a pregnant woman out of wedlock who has been kicked out of the family. I do anything alone. Even I checked my contents alone.

I intentionally didn't know my parents that I was pregnant. It was not because of anything, it was my physical condition that did not allow me to tell. A battered body and face is impossible for me to take to my parents' house.

If I tell you that I got pregnant over the phone, I'm afraid that they'll come to our house often and finally know how I am doing. I don't want them to know that I'm suffering here. Let all this bitterness I swallow and enjoy myself.

"Don't you want to get pregnant? Why in the moment you're pregnant with your affair you're trying so hard to protect her. Basic women don't know themselves. You said you didn't want to get pregnant first, but in fact you're actually pregnant with another man." He always said that with his hands and feet constantly moving dealt a blow to my entire body.

I just kept quiet with the cry I was holding. I don't have the strength to answer even a word to defend myself. If I do that, eating Arkan will not hesitate to hit me with anything around him.

I suffered even more when Arkan's parents also supported his son's behavior. I don't know where their conscience is, how to let their son act criminally. Especially my mother-in-law who is both female like me. They have never heard my explanation at all, how can they blame me when they only hear the story from one side?

Day after day I went through it with pain. However, for the sake of keeping the child in my stomach I always try not to think about my fate and destiny. I convinced myself that God gave me this kind of trial, which means God knows I'm strong. I believe there will be rainbows after the rainstorm, I believe there are still those who suffer more than me, experience trials that are heavier than me.

It's not hard six months my fetus is growing well and healthy. Even though my body is like a human being with a disease plus my dull, unkempt face, there is still something I should be grateful for. My son was not affected by what I was going through.

During my pregnancy, Arkan always brought other women home. I just kept quiet without making a sound. I remember very well, it was Sunday. Arkan for the first time invited me to visit my parents' second home. I told him to bring a lot of clothes. He will be working out of town for a long time. That's why he wanted me to stay temporarily with both of my parents so I wouldn't be alone.

At that time my situation was strange, I somehow explained it. I feel like there's Arkan where. I screamed and shouted all the way because I felt Arkan always beating and torturing me. I cried hysterically for someone to help me. However, instead of helping Arkan just keep yelling and violence at me.

When I arrived at my parents' house, I immediately hugged my mother hysterically. I'm afraid to see anyone, and I don't even want to be near anyone but Mom. I realize I'm surrounded by my own family, but I'm afraid I'll be treated the same way Arkan treats me.

I don't know how to get through the day after day that I went through with being pregnant and at my parents' house. Until I gave birth to a baby girl they thought was funny.

I don't want to touch it, carry it, see it or anything I don't want. I'd feel like I saw Arkan if I didn't see the baby.

Things got worse and worse and my parents decided to take me to mental rehabilitation. I didn't want to and screamed out of loyalty at the time. I'm not crazy, how could they bring me here? I don't want to be in that house, I'm afraid that Arkan will come and torture me again.

What I fear is true. I was at Arkan's every moment, even when I was sleeping, he woke me up violently. He annoys me once, wherever I go he always follows.

Seriate.