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墨書 Inktalez
My name is Shirley.
I grew up in a luxurious mansion.
I was forced to marry a wealthy businessman.
I inherited countless riches.
But I was not happy.
In my childhood, there were beautiful women everywhere in my home; they sang, danced, and carried the heavy scents of perfume and money.
My father was a lecher; he enjoyed abusing women and also liked being abused by them.
I spent my early years in fear and anxiety.
Until I met my husband.
He was a serious Russian Exiled Noble who collected many firearms.
After marrying him, I lived a repressive life.
We never made love properly; although he was gentle, he could not satisfy me.
Later, he died.
I fell into despair and began to frequent various clubs and bars, dating different men.
I did not become depraved because I lost my beloved; I simply released my true nature.
I had always pretended to be a lady, but I was not.
The first time I saw Charles, I thought he was a handsome, wealthy, and charming man.
But soon, I realized he was shallow and foolish.
He placed too much importance on family and children.
He believed that women should stay home to support their husbands and raise children.
He thought men could toy with women at will, but women must remain chaste.
His ideas were all wrong.
Once I saw him for who he truly was, my interest in him vanished.
I don't want to play the cat-and-mouse game with him anymore. I told him directly, "I don't like family and children."
"Why?" he asked, surprised.
"I just don't like it," I shrugged.
"You should like it," he said seriously. "Family and children are something every woman should have."
"Really?" I found it amusing.
"Yes," he nodded. "You should give it a try."
"I don't need to try," I stood up. "I'm going home."
"I'll take you," he got up as well.
"No need," I walked out. "I'll take a cab myself."
"See you next time," he said.
I didn't respond and left straight away.
I don't like Charles. He doesn't understand women or love. He only knows that women should stay at home and have children while men should go out to work. He doesn't realize that women also have their own value and dignity. I don't want to be that kind of woman who lacks self-respect.
On the weekend, Charles invited me to take a walk in the park. I agreed.
We walked in the park, the sun was warm, the grass was lush, and my mood was good.
Charles said, "My parents are divorced."
"Oh," I replied.
"When I was young, they always fought," he said softly.
"When I was young, my father always hit me," I said with a smile.
"I'm sorry to hear that," he looked at me.
"There's nothing to regret," I shook my head, "I've gotten used to it."
"Why can't you be like other women?" he suddenly asked.
"What kind?" I was puzzled.
"Gentle, virtuous, fond of children," he said.
"Do you think that's good?" I asked.
"Of course," he nodded.
"That's your opinion," I replied lightly.
"You should change," he said.
"Why should I change?" I found it amusing.
"You shouldn't act like a prostitute," he said.
I looked at him; he said seriously, "You should act like a noblewoman."
"I don't think I resemble a noblewoman," I smiled.
"You should try to be a good woman," he advised me.
"Do you think I'm a bad woman?" I countered.
"You're not," he shook his head, "but you need to change."
"I don't need to change," I said coldly.
"You do," he emphasized.
"I don't want to be a noblewoman," I turned to leave.
He didn't understand me, and I didn't want to explain.
We were simply not on the same wavelength.
What I liked was freedom and independence, not bondage and oppression.
Charles didn't understand.
I didn't want to waste any more time with him.
I was ready to end our date.
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