How Long Should I Endure

Daria had always known that her marriage to Arvid was not built on the kind of love people whispered about in romantic novels. It was more of an arrangement, one born from duty and expectations rather than desire. But that didn't stop her from giving everything to it. She had poured her heart into their life, hoping that one day, Arvid would see her for who she truly was. His aloofness, his cold gaze, his inability to look at her as anything more than a shadow in his world-none of it mattered.

Daria had convinced herself that love could bloom in the cracks of indifference, that patience would eventually wear down his walls.

But the truth was much harder to swallow.

Arvid, the CEO of a sprawling tech empire, had always been a man of few words. He was busy-always, relentlessly busy-securing deals, expanding the company, meeting clients, building an empire. There was little time for her, and even when there was, it felt as if his mind was elsewhere. His attention, if it ever landed on her, was fleeting. And yet, she remained by his side, telling herself that her devotion would be enough. She had always believed that someday, someday soon, he would look at her with affection. Perhaps even love.

But that day never came.

Every night, as Arvid retreated into his study, leaving Daria alone in their grand, empty house, she could feel the walls closing in. There was a growing chasm between them, a void that seemed impossible to bridge. She could hear the distant hum of the city outside their windows, a reminder of the life that went on beyond their mansion. A life that she had no part in.

Daria knew it was wrong to feel this way. She had everything-luxury, security, a life of privilege that many would envy. But what good was it if the person you loved couldn't even spare a moment to acknowledge your presence? What good was it if you spent your nights alone in a bed that felt colder with each passing day?

It was late one night, as the world outside was draped in darkness, that everything changed. Daria was driving home after yet another lonely evening at a gala where she had been little more than an accessory on Arvid's arm. The alcohol had dulled the sharp ache in her chest, but the loneliness still gnawed at her. She was lost in thought, thinking about the emptiness of her life, when it happened.

The crash was sudden.

A car swerved into her lane, and there was no time to react. The world spun, and everything went black.

Daria's first sensation upon regaining consciousness was a profound weightlessness. She felt detached, as if her body had become something foreign, no longer tethered to the world she had once known. Her mind raced, her heart thundering in her chest as she tried to make sense of what was happening. It was as though time itself had paused, leaving her floating in a sea of uncertainty.

And then, she saw them.

Figures moved around her, but they weren't clear. They were blurry, ghostly silhouettes, their voices muffled as if coming from a great distance. She tried to call out, but no sound left her lips. Panic began to rise in her chest as she realized that she couldn't move. She was... stuck. Stuck between life and death, suspended in some in-between place where nothing made sense.

It was then that she felt the first stirrings of panic. Her soul was drifting, slipping away from her body. The lightness of it, the sense of floating above it all, was terrifying. Daria tried to reach out, to hold onto something-anything-to anchor herself to the world she knew.

And then, she saw Arvid.

He was standing by her hospital bed, his face a mask of cold indifference. His eyes were distant, unfocused, as though he couldn't bring himself to care. She could hear snippets of his voice, though it was like listening to someone speak through a wall.

"Is she going to make it?" a voice asked, but it wasn't Arvid's. Someone else-maybe a doctor, a nurse-had spoken. The words didn't reach her, not fully.

"I don't know. She's... unresponsive," Arvid replied, his tone flat.

Daria's heart shattered at the lack of emotion in his voice. She had always known that he was distant, but hearing it like this, so blunt, so uncaring... it crushed her. She had given everything to this man, and yet, he couldn't even bring himself to care. Was this the person she had sacrificed so much for?

As her mind reeled, she caught the faintest hint of another voice-familiar, too familiar-coming from the corner of the room.

"She never really meant anything to you, did she?" the voice asked.

It was the voice of another woman, one she recognized all too well.

A tear slipped down Daria's cheek as she saw the image of a woman, someone who had been a part of their life-someone who had always lingered in the background. Someone who had known the truth about Arvid long before Daria had.

She wasn't sure how long it lasted-time felt so elastic in that strange place-but eventually, the world began to dim around her. The voices faded, the figures receded, and Daria felt herself pulled back. The weightlessness that had once been terrifying now felt like a comforting embrace.

Daria awoke with a gasp, her breath ragged as she drew in the cold air of the hospital room. Her eyes fluttered open, but they didn't focus immediately. She felt dizzy, her mind still struggling to catch up with what had happened. The sensation of her soul having slipped away, of being so close to death, lingered with her.

But as she looked around, reality began to settle in. The sterile white walls, the beeping monitors, the machines hooked up to her body-she was alive. She was alive.

Her eyes flicked to the door, and there, standing in the threshold, was Arvid. His expression was unreadable, but there was something different about him now. Something changed, something raw beneath the surface.

Daria didn't care anymore.

She didn't care about the house, the money, the status. She didn't care about his company or his empire. All of it felt so insignificant now. She had seen the truth, and it was more painful than any of her previous doubts. She had been a fool, clinging to hope in a man who would never return her love.

The harsh reality of it hit her then, deep and hard. But it was freeing, in a way. She wasn't the same person she had been before the accident. She wasn't the woman who had silently endured her husband's neglect. She wasn't the woman who had given everything for a marriage that had never truly been hers.

She was done.

"Arvid," she said, her voice hoarse, but there was a strength in it she hadn't known she possessed. "I'm done."

And for the first time in years, Daria felt something like peace settle in her chest.