Pride

She'd settled, she realized.

She had abandoned all hope of a relationship with Ray, a long, long time ago. And somewhere along the road she found she'd settled for something less. Something safe and secure. Something that wouldn't one day come back and slap her in the face. Something that made her feel wanted.

She really did think she loved him, at first. But after the honeymoon that thought had dissolved into what she knew was the truth. She wasn't in love; she was hiding, plain and simple. She didn't like it one bit.

Who had she become? How had she gone from strong, stable Neela to the Neela that needed a husband to feel like she'd accomplished something? What was wrong with her? She cursed herself and her damn confused mind. She cursed the sweet, loving, brave man in her bed – the one who wanted her. And she cursed the funny, arrogant, reckless man in her dreams – the one who didn't seem to see her at all.

Michael was sleeping soundly beside her, but she couldn't fall asleep. In fact, she'd been sleeping badly the whole week. Partly because the new mattress was incredibly uncomfortable, partly because Ray haunted her dreams. The apartment she shared with Michael felt far too foreign to her, far too clean and quiet. Ray said it would get quiet. God, she hated it when Ray was right. She hated it when she was wrong. She seemed to be wrong a lot lately, which threw her off, because she wasn't used to being wrong. At least not when it came to Ray.

Careful not to wake her husband she stepped out of bed. Obviously, sleep was not going to come, so she figured she might as well do something useful. She cleaned.

Honestly there wasn't much to clean. Michael, it seemed, liked sterile places even more than she did. However, that didn't stop her from trying. She scrubbed the counter like a maniac. After ten minutes of excessive scrubbing she stood up straight and sighed. Bloody Ray and his noise. After a while she'd gotten so used to it that, now that it was gone, it seemed empty everywhere.

The tape he had given her had not left her coat pocket since she'd gotten it. Now she had it firmly in her hand, and after several minutes of indecisive fidgeting she pressed the play button of her tape player and smiled. Ray's voice filled the room, not too loud, she couldn't wake Michael, and she suddenly felt ashamed of herself. She shouldn't be feeling so relieved to hear his voice and his band. She wasn't supposed to be this weak. A voice behind her called her name and she jumped.

" Neela?" He said again.

"Yes?" She asked, still smiling.

"What are you doing?"

"Listening to music, and cleaning." She said matter-of-factly.

"At three in the morning? Who is this?" He sounded odd.

"I couldn't sleep. And this is Ray's band; he gave me a tape before I left."

"What he have you that thing around your neck?"

"Yeah. Why?" She was beginning to feel attacked and touched the guitar pick protectively.

"I don't like it." He muttered.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I do."

"No, I mean I don't like this thing you're doing. This distant thing." He said. "You're not acting like yourself. I don't like it. So just…stop behaving so strangely. Just stop." He sounded annoyed, like she'd been making fun of him.

She just stared at him blankly. What was wrong? She'd been trying so hard to act as if nothing was different.

"What is you bloody problem?" She asked, beginning to raise her voice.

"My problem is that you're playing some guy's tape, in the middle of the night! My problem is that you've hardly spoken a word to me since the move! My problem is that you keep playing with that damn guitar pick!" Michael had gone from annoyed to livid. "My problem is that you're married to me, but you can't seem to get your head out of that crappy apartment!"

"I liked living in that apartment, okay?" She told him. "Ray is my friend, I lived with him for a long time, and he means a lot to me! I'm going to miss it! I'm not used to this 'married' thing. It's not exactly like I've done it before!"

Michael's eyes narrowed. "Did you sleep with him?"

"Excuse me?" She stuttered. "What did you just ask me?"

"You heard me, Neela. Did you sleep with that wannabe rock star?"

"No!" She screamed, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. "Who do you think I am? I don't just go around sleeping with people! And don't call him that."

"Wannabe rock star?" He snorted and shook his head as Neela glared at him. "See? You slept with him. I don't want you to see him anymore."

"Do you think I'd lie to you? And do you really think I'm not going to see him again? I work with him! He's my friend! Never see him again, really?" She asked in disbelief. "Well, fuck you! You don't know me at all. Please, leave."

"What?"

"Leave!" She yelled at him. "Leave and don't come back until you've gotten that gigantic ego of yours shrunk. I don't want to see you tomorrow. Find some other woman to order around!"

"Fine!" He yelled back. He grabbed his coat and keys and gave her one more look before he went out the door.

The door slammed and she blinked away her tears. She turned up the volume of the tape she'd come to find salvation in and resumed her cleaning. She'd be damned if she'd ever let her life be ruled by a man. She was better that that, stronger than that. Whether he liked it or not.

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