Ellen lay on her back, staring up at the dark ceiling. The room was quiet, save for a few night insects humming outside. She turned her head slightly to the side, straining to see if Mason was asleep. His silhouette was just about visible, lying a safe distance away from her on the same bed. They were sharing a blanket, something that had never happened before in their marriage.
This was their first time sharing a bed, an unusual situation brought on by her father’s insistence. Ellen felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach. Earlier, Colleen had dropped off some men’s clothes for Mason. Ellen had been puzzled, asking why Colleen had men’s clothes, to which her sister had proudly replied, "Ellen, you’re not the only one who’s had a man in her life." Colleen had then retreated to her room with a mischievous smile, leaving Ellen to her thoughts.
Ellen still had some clothes at her father’s house, so she had no problem getting ready for bed. But now, lying beside Mason, she found it hard to relax. She tried to count sheep in her imagination, but each sheep quickly transformed into Mason, making her eyes snap open again. Ugh, it was probably because she was so nervous being in the same bed with him, even though she knew nothing weird would happen She didn’t want to move, afraid she might disturb him.
After what felt like an eternity, she whispered, "Mason?"
There was no response. She hesitated, then tried again, a bit louder this time. "Mason, are you asleep?"
Still, no response. Was he really asleep, or was he choosing ignoring her?
She shifted in bed, trying to make herself more comfortable, but the movement only made her more aware of the gap between them. She had hoped that sharing a bed might bring them closer, but instead, it seemed to emphasize the distance that still existed between them. The irony wasn’t lost on her—lying so close yet feeling so far apart.
But then she heard him sigh. "It’s time to sleep, Ellen, not chit-chat."
The harsh words stung a little, but she pressed on. Without even realizing it, she blurted out, "Do you hate me?"
There was a pause, then Mason’s voice, softer this time. "No, Ellen, I don’t hate you."
"Then why are you so cold to me?" Her voice was almost a whisper, the vulnerability in it surprising even herself.
Mason took a moment before answering. "I’m just like that with everyone. No special treatment."
Ellen bit her lip, frustration bubbling up. "Liar. You were so different with my father earlier. So polite, so talkative. I almost didn’t recognize you."
"Did you expect me to be rude to your father?" Mason’s tone had a sharp edge. "I can do that, but I’ll tell him it was your idea."
"Hey!" Ellen’s voice rose, then she quickly lowered it. "That’s not what I meant. It’s just...you don’t usually act like that, and it got me thinking."
Mason sighed again. "Your father is my parents’ best friend. I can’t be rude to him."
Ellen nodded, even though she knew he couldn’t see her in the dark. She then shifted her body, propping her head up with her hand as she turned to face Mason in the darkness. "Why did you marry me anyway?" she asked, her voice soft but firm. "We both know you weren’t supposed to marry me. You could have refused, and no one would have blamed you or pressured you to do it."
Ellen thought about this detail she usually overlooked: Ellen Winters was originally supposed to marry Mason’s older brother, Ian. But Ian had passed away, and so the whole arranged marriage thing was thrown off. Mason had chosen to go through with it, but Ellen wanted to hear the reason directly from him.
Mason remained silent, and Ellen pressed on, refusing to let the moment slip away. "How important am I to you, Mason? On a scale of one to ten?"
Mason sighed, sounding weary. "Why are you talking so much tonight? It’s almost midnight. We should sleep."
She also didn’t know why she was talking so much tonight. Maybe it was the loneliness she felt in their marriage, or the need to feel connected to him in some way. The main reason was probably because she wanted to get close to him, and without communication, that couldn’t happen.
"Don’t change the subject," Ellen insisted, it was clear she was determined. "I’ll keep bugging you until you answer it."
"Fine," Mason gave in, his voice flat. Mason was silent for a long moment, and Ellen could almost hear the gears turning in his mind. "Three."
Ellen’s mind raced. What? Three? That low? Not that she expected a higher number, but three was shockingly low. She needed to know about Aubrey too. "What about Gerald and Aubrey?"
"Also three," Mason replied without hesitation.
Ellen wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or more worried. If Aubrey wasn’t rated higher than her, did that mean no one was truly important to Mason? "What about your work?" she asked, almost dreading the answer.
"Eight," Mason responded.
Ellen sighed internally. Of course. His work ranked far above anyone in his life. She was determined now; she had to work harder to be more important to Mason than Aubrey, more important than his work. This made her even more determined than ever.
Things got really quiet between them after that. Ellen fixed her pillow and lay down again, facing Mason. She closed her eyes, trying to will herself to sleep, but her mind was too restless. She took a deep breath, feeling the rise and fall of her chest as she tried to calm her racing thoughts. She was nearly asleep when a question slipped out. "Hey, do you still love Aubrey?"
She didn’t hear Mason’s reply as she finally drifted off, but Mason did hear her. He lay there in the dark, her question just hung there in the air. "I don’t know," he whispered softly, more to himself than to her.