EXTRA EXTRA READ ALL ABOUT IT CALEB’S IN HIS FEELINGS AND HE CAN’T GET OUT OF IT…
Sypnosis: Caleb x non!mc — you find out he only used you in this marriage of three, and only had a child with you to prove to the world that he, Caleb Xia, had moved on. 7k words. Warnings: HURT NO COMFORT no seriously, x reader is a stretch. mentions of pregnancy, birth and cheating. selfish caleb. i like exploring his ego. A/N: Sorry for the wait. I smoked 7 cigs in the process of writing this (working through my 8th now as I do the formatting). this stemmed from a little ask that was just too angsty to write a simple blurb on. highly suggest listening to mitski while reading this/earrings by malcolm todd (of which the title originates from) for the maximum angst experience.
There were three of you in this marriage, so naturally, it was a bit crowded.
Part of you felt unbelievably happy to be at the altar with Caleb Xia, yet another part of you couldn’t ignore the nudging feeling that something was very wrong with your husband-to-be.
To the spectators of the wedding, Caleb seemed perfectly composed. Not that most of them would know him any better than you did of the man you were about to dedicate the rest of your life to. The audience of the simple wedding at the courthouse consisted of your family and friends, and for Caleb…well, the only three people who he invited were Gideon and…
And her. MC. Of course.
You’ve always had an idea of who she was. It was hard not to acknowledge the woman your husband was obsessed with, is still obsessed with. You knew how much MC weighed on Caleb’s heart, and you could only guess how much that weight doubled when MC, instead of marrying him, married some cardiologist friend of hers. And you could piece together that you were nothing more than a trophy of proof for Caleb to show that he had moved on.
Yet, you still naively believed that, just like any good fairy tale, Caleb would eventually fall in love with you.
But one look into his empty, loveless eyes, as he signed your marriage certificate, told you otherwise. The chaste, brief kiss you exchanged felt like more of an obligation to show to the wedding guests rather than a genuine embrace of a husband and wife.
But then again, you didn’t think you expected much more.
In fact, Caleb looked happier when after the ceremony, MC bounded up with him with a grin, patting his hair and congratulating him for getting married and finally, finally moving on. To which he blushed and replied to her with something inaudible to you.
So from the very beginning, there’s always been three there has always been three in the spaces you occupied with your husband, three at the altar (you wondered if Caleb had imagined it was MC standing in your place on your wedding day), three in the bed (you could even imagine MC lying in empty space inbetween you and Caleb as you slept, and three at the table (at first before Caleb had learnt more about you, the dishes he served were all reminecent of MC’s favourites). You knew MC haunted, haunts, your marriage. But like any good wife, you looked the other way and hoped for the best.
Although it was not that you expected for Caleb to start acting like your husband right off the bat (you told yourself he needed time to heal). Not that you expected him to treat you like MC. Not that you never stopped praying that the underdog (you) of the story may prevail eventually. Yet the silence in his cold, gray penthouse, the lack of physical touch between the two of you, the meals consumed in harrowing conversation (you’d have to give it to him for always trying to ask you how your day was everyday), the nights spent so far away from each other, was slowly convincing you that this marriage was nothing but one of convenience. All you did was try your best to keep holding onto the hope that maybe things would change with Caleb for the better.
About two years into the marriage, Caleb surprised you by asking if you could have a child together.
You were shocked he was the one to ask.
Your remembered first attempt at intimacy had gone miserably. You could freshly recall on your wedding night when Caleb had loomed over you in the darkness of the bedroom, his chest heaving - though he hadn’t moved to do anything, anything at all - with spots of tears forming in the crease of his eye. After ten minutes of silence, he rolled off you.
‘I— I’m sorry…I- I can’t.’
You had told him it was okay. And you never mentioned it again, so you were coloured surprised when Caleb meekly asked you, as if he thought you might get upset, to try for a baby.
Fortunately for him, it only took about three times before you presented him with a positive pregnancy test. Fortunately for you as well, since each attempt was very awkward, terrifyingly so. You had no idea where you should have out your hands, your legs, if he even wanted your hands on him— and neither did Caleb know what to do with his touch. You’d think he didn’t want a baby by how hesitant he was acting. However, eventually when you did hand him that test with two pink lines, Caleb’s face practically glowed. You had never seen your husband, in all these years of marriage, look so…happy, so much more like his actual age than the cold, gloomy colonel you were married to. For the first time, you saw the sunny Caleb that you only got to know through photos stuck in dusty albums in the corners of your home. He hugged you, kissed you, and laughed in relief.
Relief?
Honestly, you were somewhat relieved too. Usually, Caleb would be away for prolonged periods of time, always muttering about something to to with the fleet, a mission, training, before departing for sometimes weeks at a time, but ever since you got pregnant, Caleb cut back on prolonged duties and stayed by your side if he could. There was one thing you could never complain about him, was that when it really came down to it, Caleb was not a bad husband by the books. He constantly cooks, cleans, cares and caters for you, and even more so now, he’ll drop whatever is on hand at moment’s notice to come running to you if you said you felt the slightest bit of discomfort. Plus, with all the baby essentials Caleb had purchased, they had really livened up the house much more. You watch as he assembles them without the need to look at the instructions whilst sitting on the floor of the living room. As he fusses about with you taking the right supplements, about getting enough sleep…it’s cute. It’s the closest feeling you’ve ever experienced to having a real husband, despite being married for well over two years now.
On a muggy afternoon, you inched out of Caleb’s grasp (he has now found it in himself to sleep closer to you with one hand usually over your stomach if you allow it) and wobbled your way to the walk in closet for some airier clothes. As you sifted through the racks, you accidentally knocked out a few photos from Caleb’s colonel service coat, which fluttered down to the bottom of the closet. Crouching down (whilst you still could), you inspected the photos.
Oh.
It was a laminated photo of your baby’s ultrasound. Not just that, but on the edges of the photo, written neatly in his handwriting in pen, were the words: [name]’s ultrasound appointment on xx/xx/xxxx.
Adorable, you thought, that Caleb carried this around with him. You privately wondered if he would proudly show it off to his co-workers or his underlings. You hoped he might, maybe even boast a little about how lucky he and his wife was. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, wondering if this marriage was finally taking a step into the right direction.
But right next to that photo was that necklace. When U Come Back. You knew very well the story behind that necklace, how MC had given it to him before he left for the aerospace academy. How he used to wear it, 24/7, but had at least the decency to stop wearing it at all times and only keep it on him, after he married you. Yes, at least he had the decency to now never take off your wedding bands. Your eyes glazed over the necklace again. Bitterly, you wondered if he’d ever want to carry a photo of him and you someday.
Nevermind. You dried your eyes quickly. At least in this marriage, both he and you, are getting something that you both wanted, something that you will both cherish more than anything.
A bouncing baby girl.
He wanted your baby. He needed your baby. He wanted to be a father, because he wanted to be a father, a nurturing, loving figure, right? And not for any other reason? Right?
Right.
Two weeks later, whilst tidying up the kitchen, your hand bumped against a bright yellow lunchbox patterned with little apple stickers, long forgotten beneath a pile of documents and papers. Fondly, you picked it up.
In the very earliest days of your marriage, you had done the domestic, wifely thing of making your husband a lunchbox before he departed for work every morning. And he had returned an empty box everytime, down to the last grain of rice being picked clean. You still remember the fuzzy feeling of seeing Caleb smile at you, thanking you for such a delicious meal, how his subordinates had all fawned over the presentation, how delicious it was, how lucky the colonel was to have such a lovely wife…
So why not do it again? You thought merrily, after all, you haven’t made him a packed lunch in a while. Maybe showing up at his work with a delicious lunchbox might perk him up. Excitedly, you got into your car and made your way down into central Skyhaven.
Entering the fleet HQ, you were immediately guided to your husband’s office.
You were about to turn the handle and step in - usually there weren’t much visitors in his office in the middle of the day - but a chorus of loud voices stopped you.
“And to Caleb! The newest dad-to-be!”
“The first of all of us to be a father, actually.”
You heard a round of clinking cups. It must be Caleb, inviting his flight school friends to celebrate the impending birth of your child. At his office though…strange. But it must be because he’s been so busy, he hardly had any time to go anywhere except his workplace and his home.
“Woah…no, no more.” You recognised that as Caleb’s voice. You could imagine his hand gliding over to cover the surface of his glass.
Drinking? In the middle of the day? Seriously? You snorted, hand going down on the handle again, But at least it’s to a good cause. Caleb being a new dad and all.
“But seriously. Here’s also to your marriage not being a total disaster!”
Your stopped before you could push against the door.
“It’s not. A total disaster.” Caleb said, his voice a bit slurred though not completely drunk.
“Yeah, yeah…we all know you had the hots for MC, but she ended up marrying that sexy doctor instead of the big bad colonel, didn’t she, oof—!”
A thud. Caleb had probably slammed whoever said that against the wall. A series of ‘ooohs’ followed.
“Kidding, kidding…”
“You better be.” Caleb dusted his hands off, sinking back into his seat. “I’ve long moved on from MC. I even have proof.”
“Oh yeah? Don’t tell me it’s—”
He pulled out the ultrasound picture that he kept in his uniform pocket, showing it to everyone in the room.
“I had a child with my wife. Can’t you see how much I’ve moved on already? I can have a child with someone who’s not MC. See?”
Tears stung your vision.
So thats what he was using that picture for.
Not for a happy memory’s keepsake, no. But to show the world that he, Colonel Caleb Xia, the yearner, the lover, the oh-so-perfect man…has moved on from his sweet MC.
…
You quickly threw the lunchbox you made away, and fled the building. You needed to get away from him, in that moment. You didn’t want to linger on in this kind of feeling anymore.
…
Time passes a lot quicker, you found, when it wasn’t just you in the house all day. With Caleb by your side (more or less constantly in the final few months of your pregnancy) the days had quickly passed. And before you knew it, there was a living, breathing infant in your arms.
The birth was easy, and again, you were grateful for Caleb’s support (he never left your side in those six hours, plus you’ve heard far too many horror stories of baby daddies bringing their Xbox, or not showing up at all…) though admittedly you swore at him multiple times and eventually snapped at him to wait outside. However, part of you feared he might react to an actual baby, his and your baby, with regret and hesitation. You couldn’t shake the fear that Caleb might feel prejudiced against a baby you made with him instead of one borne from him and MC. But those fears quickly evaporated when you saw Caleb crying, sniffling, holding the little pink bundle in his arms.
Both Caleb and you were overjoyed, though also albeit scared, naturally like most first-time parents. He was seriously dedicated at every step. Again, you’d have to give it to him for being a good dad.
After returning from the hospital, he never allowed you to get up in the middle of the night to soothe the baby. He never complained about doing the messy work that came with babies, often willingly taking care of all her wants every day as if trying to prove a point. He now even tries to come home earlier and go on less long-distance fleet missions to spend more time with the baby, something he’s never done for you in the time you were married. You watched as he poured his whole heart into being a good dad for a tiny little girl. A perfect masculine figure. Ever so sensitive to what she needed.
But what about what you needed?
Sometimes when you come home after a day out with your friends or a solo trip somewhere, the moment you open the door to your home, you feel as if your entire world is behind that doorway. That despite all the freedoms Caleb has given you in this marriage (the financial freedom, ‘you can go anywhere you want’ , you can do whatever you wish), your world had drastically shrank to the man sitting in the grey parlour, who wasn’t even facing you.
On other days, he wasn’t even there.
Gone to MC’s. Emergency.
….you weren’t exponentially surprised by the reason. Caleb frequently rushed to MC’s house to deal with her emergencies. At this point, you simply shrugged it off and continued on as you usually would. Only that when you went to the nursery to check on your daughter…
The crib was empty.
Your heart dropped. You had frantically dialled his number. No response. You racked your head for thousands of possibilities. Did someone take her? Did he mention he was taking her anywhere? Did he…did he take your child? Taking off with MC to a place where you’d never find him again? Did Caleb pack up and leave altogether? With your baby?
You told yourself it couldn’t be true. That he’d never do something like that. He wouldn’t. That Caleb is a good, kind man. But to what distances he would go for MC, you had no idea. All you knew was that you’d like it to be you instead of her.
Ten minutes later, you were banging the front door of MC’s house.
Surprisingly, it was her husband, Zayne, who answered.
“[name]? What are you doing here?” Zayne asked, surprised.
He didn’t even get to answer before you shoved past him, calling Caleb’s name.
“Caleb, Caleb?!” Your mind flashed with possibilities of where he could be. Maybe he was already gone. Maybe he took MC and drove up to the airport already. But surely not, his car was parked outside, and, and…
There he was. In MC’s backyard, sleeves rolled up, that stupid grin on his face as he…tacked a nail into a piece of plywood, MC hovering over him with a tray of lemonade. You stopped in your steps where the stone of the house met grass, calming down, as you watched your husband beam up at MC, sweat glistening down his muscular arms, droplets forming on his healthy skin, a damp V soaking the top of his t-shirt. Time seemed to slow as Caleb reached up, took a sparkling glass, smiling at MC gratefully, a smile so bright you’ve never seen in all those times you ever offered him something.
“Caleb!” You snapped, finally loud enough that he whipped his head around, MC too. “Caleb! Where’s our daughter—“
Before you could even hear his reply, a beaming MC gasped in delight and smothered you in a hug.
“[name]! You’re here too! That’s perfect, you should stay and have dinner! Ooh, I’ll tell Zayne to set an extra space at the table.” She spun around, shouting into the open patio doors. “ZAAAAAYNIIIIEEEEE?”
She talked at such a fast pace, you barely even got to get a word in on how you didn’t really want to stay for dinner, how you just wanted to demand where your daughter is and go home. In that moment, you didn’t even really care if your husband went home with you. But just as you opened your mouth…
“Aw, pips, there’s no need, I’m almost done with building this part already.”
MC pouted, that little, pathetic, faux-childish pout she always made at her dear gege.
“C’mon, Caleb, staying for dinner is the least you could do for me, after rushing over on such short notice to build Zachary’s treehouse.” She said, referring to hers and Zayne’s son. She turned to you and smiled, dropping her voice to a whisper, “Zayne is so useless when it comes to things like this, and my gege is the best!”
She turned back to Caleb. “And bringing your adorable little daughter too! I’ve been dying to meet her. You know I’ve asked you so many times already.”
You paused. “Wait a minute. You…asked Caleb to…to bring…”
“Yes!” MC replied, “I know she’s only a few months old, but all I’ve been asking Caleb is to let me meet my adorable niece!”
It was almost laughable. The ‘emergency’ that required Caleb’s immediate attention was the construction of a treehouse for MC’s son. You couldn’t help but wonder how many other of these such trips to her house that Caleb took were also something else, something less significant but labelled as an ‘emergency’.
You turned to Caleb, absolutely pissed.
“You. You took my daughter just like that? You took her without asking me?”
“I told you I was going to MC’s—“
“You didn’t tell me you were taking her!”
“I thought you would have assumed—“
Right. Like you should assume, like every other little bit of your marriage, you should have assumed that Caleb’s judgement was right. That your husband is doing his best for you. For this marriage. That you should assume every step he did, he was thinking of you first, and not MC. You should always assume. You’d be happier off that way.
But obviously, you were much more headstrong than Caleb let on. You were no longer the nervous blushing bride that had once optimistically stood by his side.
“You have no right to take her and tell me, her mother, to just assume anything about the safety of her own child.” You replied, in a tone that surprised Caleb so much, that he wasn’t sure how to reply.
MC, caught in the middle, immediately pushed in to diffuse the tension.
“Aw, don’t be like that, my sister-in-law.” She smiled, holding onto your arm. “Don’t blame Caleb, it’s my fault. I asked him to bring the baby.”
“No, no.” Caleb cut in, standing up and putting a hand onto MC’s shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself.”
He turned to you, frowning. “[name], I think we’ve just blown this way out of proportion. No one’s been hurt and you’re acting if I’ve kidnapped someone!”
“You know that’s not what I—“
“Come on.” Caleb gently took your hand, herding you towards the house. “Our daughter’s fine. She’s asleep upstairs.”
He led you past the living room, past the kitchen where a frazzled Zayne stood, wordlessly watching as Caleb led you up the staircase and into the nursery, familiar with the layout as if it was his own house, to where your daughter was sleeping peacefully in their son’s old crib.
“See?” Caleb sighed, “Nothing’s wrong. You got all worked up over nothing.”
You wanted to yell and him and tell him that this wasn’t nothing. That somehow ‘nothing’ always seemed to be associated with his behaviour with MC, and that none of what happened concerning MC in your marriage could just be swept under the rug like that. Maybe that’s how he preferred it, you thought bitterly.
“I want to go home.” Was your only reply.
Caleb’s shoulders slackened. “C’mon, let’s just stay for dinner…”
“I want. To go. Home.”
Your husband seemed to give up this case, and sighed. “Alright.” He replied, “Let me get my jacket.”
Suddenly, both of your heads turned, as you heard MC rap her hand against the nursery doorframe.
“Caleb…can I just speak with you for a second before you go…?”
You wanted to question if she had been lurking outside, listening, but Caleb cut in front of you.
“Of course.” He replied.
He took MC by her shoulder“We’ll just be a minute.” He called to you.
“You don’t mind, do you?” MC asked graciously.
“Sure.” You replied evenly. “I’ll just be in here. Come get me when you’re done, okay? I’ll dress our daughter to leave.”
You saw Caleb nod, before escorting MC down the stairs. You made sure they both saw you close the nursery door.
You mad good on your promise to stay in the nursery and dress your fussy little daughter (who was looking more like Caleb by the day). Five minutes later, gently creaking open the nursery door, you snuck outside, thinking they’d finished their conversation already. But you realised they hadn’t gone far. As you stood on the stairs with your back against the side of the wall, you could clearly hear Caleb and MC talking in the living room behind the staircase.
Their words made your heart beat out of your chest.
“Is your wife always so…uptight?” You heard MC mumble, her voice suddenly sultrier than before.
“No, she’s just…” You heard Caleb began.
I’m just what, Caleb?
“…she’s just emotional, that’s all.”
You heard MC snort. “Emotional? Hardly. I seem to remember that at your wedding, she was ever so meek and crittery, so nervous, so deferent, so grateful to marry the big strong colonel…” She sighed, “And I thought that, y’know, hey! She might do a lot of good for you. She’s like a squeaky mouse, just like another version of me, how I was your ‘pipsqueak’…” Her voice suddenly dropped to a whine.
“I thought maybe you found a better replacement.”
You heard sounds that indicated that Caleb stepped forwards to hug her.
“MC…nothing and nobody could ever replace you.” Caleb said gently.
They were silent for a long time. Wetness had began to gloss your eyes.
“Well…on that happy note…” MC mumbled, “I have some news for you.”
“Hm? What is it?”
“I’m…” She giggled, “I’m expecting.”
“You’re what?!” You heard Caleb exclaim.
“Shhhh! I said I’m expecting. I’m going to have another baby.” MC replied hushedly.
“Oh wow…congratulations!” Caleb laughed. “Guess I’m ready to be uncle to another mini-zayne, huh?”
MC let out a small happy sigh. “Not quite.”
“What do you mean? Do you think this baby’s going to look more like you, or—”
“No, no…”
A pause. MC gazed up at your husband, clasping his hands.
“Caleb…the baby is yours.”
…
You couldn’t bear to hear the rest of the conversation. You sprinted back up the stairs, going back into the darkness of the nursery. You hated yourself for it, but you couldn’t help but sob, sob over this marriage which you’ve always held hope to, this marriage which, admittedly, up to that moment you were still clinging onto the hope that things may turn to the better, that your fate might change, that this wasn’t all a mistake, that your marriage wasn’t just a helpless fantasy on your part…
But look at you now.
Crying on the floor of the house which belonged to the woman who your husband was obsessed with. Crying with a baby that was only born into the world to prove a point for your husband, to prove that he had moved on. Or worse, your poor baby daughter wasn’t even born to prove a point anymore, she had only served to prove a lie, a lie that was quickly unravelling at the hands of the man who demanded her existence.
Caleb…oh, Caleb.
Your tears stopped when you heard someone coming up the stairs. Immediately, you dried your eyes and stood up, trying to slow down your breaths and calm yourself down. You refused to face your husband like this. You refused to make a scene. Not now, anyway.
“Ready to go?” He asked, pushing the door open.
You didn’t turn for a second. In that moment, time seemed to stop.
Slowly, you turned to him, your daughter held tightly in your arms.
“Sure.” You smiled, “Let’s go home.”
…
Home. Such a funny word.
As you watched the glowing skyscrapers pass you in the passenger seat, you suddenly felt very calm. The air was wet from rain, and a cool summer breeze had began to sweep through the night. You thought you might feel rage, or resentment, but instead…all you felt was a strange sense of sereneness. You were disappointed at Caleb, sure, but not as surprised as you thought you’d feel.
Which felt worse than being angry.
You’d rather feel that rush of adrenaline, make a scene, throw something at his face and scream at him and cry and slap him, maybe, but no, no, all you felt was a churning pit of emptiness in the pits of your stomach. Your belly empty, while MC’s swelled with life. His life.
“What do you want to have for dinner when we get back home?” Caleb asked you, breaking the silence.
You shrugged, wondering when, or if that all, he was going to confirm for you what you had overheard.
“Don’t be like that.” He nudged you with a half smile, “You can pick anything. Anything at all to eat, it’s up to you.”
You didn’t want to eat with him. Even the thought of sitting at the same table, across him, made you feel sick. The thought of your mouth wrapping around the utensils that once touched his mouth, his mouth that once warmed MC’s tongue. Biting into food prepared by his hands, his hands that once traveled across MC’s naked skin. A sickening scene.
You didn’t want anything to do with him.
“I’d rather you decide.” Came your firm reply. “Since you seem to decide everything that goes on around here.”
Caleb sighed, a long heavy drag. “[name], I don’t know what you want me to tell you.” He spun the wheel, pulling into the familiar street. “So can we please just drop the attitude?”
“What attitude?” You asked, fluttering your lashes as often MC did when she wanted to appease her dearest gege, “I really don’t mind what we eat. Why would I?”
“[name].” He said more seriously, “Please. I don’t want a scene. Our baby’s asleep in the back and I’d really like to keep it that way.”
Right, so you’d be fine having an argument if our daughter wasn’t here. Speaking of children…
“MC’s looked glowing today, don’t you think?” You mentioned, sliding out of the passenger’s seat almost the second Caleb rolled the car into the driveway.
He shot you a strange look as he unlatched your daughter from her baby seat in the back. “Yes…she did. Why do you ask?”
You shrugged innocently, unlocking the front door, “Nothing, I just meant that motherhood agrees with her.”
Caleb said nothing in reply. You watched as he carried your daughter inside, not a muscle in his face giving away a single hint of suspicion or anxiety. You knew what kind of man your husband was. It wouldn’t be so easy to gauge out the truth from him, or any semblance of emotion he didn’t want to express for that matter. But you were expecting this.
“Do you think she’s going to have another one?” You said coquettishly, shrugging off your coat.
He couldn’t help it this time. You watched from behind as his shoulder twitched, ever so slightly, for not even half a second.
“I wouldn’t know.” Caleb replied, his tone ordinary, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. She and Zayne are a happy couple, after all.”
Your husband would have made a great actor, you thought humorlessly. You wondered if he was tearing himself apart inside.
“Actually.” You raised your hand, smiling. “I don’t want dinner.”
Caleb turned, cocking an eyebrow at you. “What? But you—”
“I’m not hungry anymore.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” You nodded, one foot on the stairs. “I’m going to bed early. It’s been a long day.”
“But it’s only—“
“Goodnight, Caleb.”
“…goodnight.”
…
Weeks had passed. You’ve continued to act as if nothing had gone wrong. Caleb went to work, came back from work, cooked, played with your baby girl (who was now crawling all over the place) and went to bed. The only aspect that he felt…off, about, was how pacified you acted now.
You didn’t pepper him with questions about his day anymore.
You weren’t there to ask if he was feeling alright the moment he came home.
You couldn’t even bring yourself to stand closer to him.
It was as if the marriage had undergone mitosis and split itself in two, as if the straining cell it had once been has finally pulled away from the other half. All that remained was two individuals, standing inches apart in the kitchen, sitting a meter away in the living room, sleeping in beds that felt miles away from each other at night.
Your scents didn’t even mingle together anymore. The air in your home felt stagnant. You were sure that if you hadn’t got used to it, if you weren’t you for a second and you had visited your current home for the first time, you would assume that there were no inhabitants in it at all.
You could imagine it now. The edge of the scissors pulling the winding umbilical cord into a taught triangular shape in the sterile air, about to snap shut, about to separate the two entities, mother snd baby, to deliver individuality and freedom to both…there just needed to be a little push. A little force. Just a little more, and you would be able to forever sever this rotting chord that ties you to this marriage .
Every day, Caleb would come home and wonder what changed your demeanor so much. And you’d wonder when your husband would grow the balls to tell you that MC is pregnant with his baby.
He didn’t on week one. Or two. Or three. Or four. And as you can guess…
He didn’t speak a word when MC posted a gender reveal (week 19) online, the cutting of the triple-tiered cake revealing flamingo-pink insides. Caleb liked that post, you saw.
He also didn’t mention a word when MC announced a baby shower (week 28), which you were also invited to (the gall. can you imagine the audacity?). You had acted perfectly amicable, presenting MC with a hug and a basket of gifts. Caleb had gone to congratulate Zayne. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony.
By the time the date hit 30 weeks after you overheard their conversation, you had had enough.
If Caleb was going to be a coward about it, then you would force him to confront the truth.
…
Week 34 was fast approaching. You knew a normal pregnancy would end at about 37 weeks to 40, so when Caleb, suddenly, in the middle of your morning shot up from his seat after answering a call, you were surprised.
“What’s wrong?” You asked.
“MC had th—her baby.”
“Already?” You hummed. “It’s a bit early, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Caleb gasped, practically sprinting to put on his jacket hanging by the bannister, “That’s why I need to go see her. Now.”
“No wait!” You stood up, grabbing his wrist. “I’m coming too.”
“No.” He replied. “You shouldn’t. Someone needs to stay home with our daughter. And I won’t be long.”
“No, no!” You chirped merrily, picking up your daughter from her high chair. “Let’s bring our baby. After all, she should get to know her new half-sister.”
You enjoyed watching the colour suddenly bleach from his face.
“What?” His tone was chilling, shaken, almost boyish.
“You heard me.” You fished out the car keys from the little ceramic dish near the front door. “Come on.“
“[name]—“
“I thought you were in a hurry to go.”
“[name].” Firmer, now.
“So let’s go.”
“[NAME]!” Caleb yelled. It was the first time he had yelled at you.
“What is it?” You blinked back.
Caleb’s eyes were bloodshot. His shoulders heaved.
“How long…have you known?”
“I think the better question is, Caleb,” Your face, he thought, was frighteningly unreactive. “When were you planning on telling me?”
He threw his hands down, turning away from you. “I was going to tell you today. After the baby was born.”
“So you can force me to face the consequences of your actions? If I like it or not? Is that why?”
“No! Don’t put words in my mouth.” He faced you again. “I was going…I was going to…”
“To what?”
“To work something out.”
“And how was that going to end?”
“I—“
“I’ll tell you how that was going to end, Caleb Xia.” You stabbed your finger against his solid chest. “It would end in me having to make sacrifices. It would end up in me in pain, over and over again, just to cope with how you’ve decided to treat me! I will be the one at a loss while you, you will get what you’ve always wanted. Every decision you’ve made was never for me. It was always either for you or for MC! I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth when you tell me that you’ll ’work something out’. I know you’ll give me the short end of the straw. You already have, for every day we’ve been married. Yet you never realise, because of course in the end whatever happens would work out for you, because it always fucking does!”
“[name].” Caleb breathed, “Calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to—“
“I’ll be home as quick as I can.” He said, pulling on his shoes at the door. “And then we’ll settle this.”
You laughed.
“Oh, Caleb.”
You watched as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.
“I’m sure you’ll find yourself right at home.” You said with a smile.
…
“Caleb, come quick!” MC giggled, waving her hand to usher him in. “I just sent Zaynie to go out to the cafe to buy me some lunch.”
Caleb looked over at the bassinet, where a tiny wriggly baby wrapped in white lay. His lips broke out into a smile, a little wider than when he had first met his daughter with you, before gently, very gently reaching into the blankets, prying them apart, to reveal the scrunched up face of his new daughter.
He instantly folded, a finger stroking her wrinkly cheeks.
“Hey there, sweetheart…” Caleb cooed, as the baby made an uncommitted sound.
She was tiny. Wrinkly. But to Caleb, she was one of the cutest things he’s ever seen. She was part of him, and part of MC, after all.
Caleb took an awed breath in, as she fluttered her eyelashes, opening her eyes to reveal…
Big, green eyes.
Her eyes were green.
A bright, mocking, hazel.
Just.
Like.
Her father’s.
Zayne.
…
“What the fuck?” Caleb spun to MC, “You said—“
“Well…” MC smiled devilishly, a telltale sign that she knew the entire time, “I assumed wrong, I guess.”
“But you told me it was from that one night when—“
“There’s no way I could have conceived her with you from just one night, compared to how many times I’ve fucked Zayne around the same time.” She noticed Caleb wince in uncomfort at the mention of her activities with her husband. “You were right. Aren’t you always, gege.”
“But—“
“Caleb, the baby isn’t yours.” MC snapped.
He stood by the beside, shellshocked.
She exhaled out of her nose, smoothing out her blankets. “There is no ‘but’ to it.”
Caleb let out an exasperated breath. “I can’t believe you lied to me. You lied to be about something this important!”
“I had to!” Suddenly, her voice turned an 180 and became a pitiful, little cry.
“Gege…I was trying to help you…you married [name] and seemed to be so upset all the time, so I had to think of a way to get you out of that marriage. And see, now…” She smiled, “She’s out of the picture and will never bother you again.”
“You don’t understand!” Caleb shook his wrist out of her grasp, “I would never have…have put [name] through all this if it wasn’t my child to begin with.“
“Come on, Cay, you’re just being selfish now.” MC picked at her nails, “It’s all for the best. You didn’t enjoy being married to her in the first place anyway. I can’t believe you went through all the trouble of having a kid with her just to prove that you were over me. You’re so pathetic, gege.” She chuckled.
Caleb felt as if he could not move. MC’s voice seemed to become a distant echo, until…
“Gege?”
He snapped back into reality. Caleb frantically began pulling on his jacket, turning his back to MC, his shallow breaths filling the room.
“Gege, don’t go.” She said softly, “It’s all for the best. You’ll still be an uncle to the baby. To our family. We’ll be together again, aren’t you happy about that?”
Caleb’s hand tightened on the door. He turned to look at MC, with the most hollow look in his eyes she’d ever seen him possess. Emptier even than the time she renounced him as her gege.
“No.” He replied curtly, pushing the door open.
“Caleb Xia.” MC barked. “Xia Yizhou!”
For the first time, Caleb didn’t look back to her.
…
Caleb wasn’t sure how many speed limits he broke while making his way home, but from the look of the bumper, he should be expecting a few tickets soon.
He was in a daze as he got out of the car, almost stumbling to the front door of the house, unlocking it.
He was ready. To apologise. To kneel before you and beg for forgiveness.
Anything at all.
To go back to the beginning. To make things right, as they should be between a husband and his wife.
To be a family. You, him and your precious baby, that you gave him.
He opened the door.
The house was silent.
Almost empty.
Empty…
The empty table. The empty living room. The empty bedrooms. The empty nursery. It was as if the house had reversed to its first day Caleb had moved in, where every inch was shrouded by plastic wrap and packed in cardboard. When no life had been breathed into his home.
A home without love is just a house, after all. How long had Caleb been trying to change that?
How long had he stayed, in denial, that his goal had actually been long fulfilled?
Where are the people who made his house a home?
“[name]?” Caleb called out. “[name]? Where are you?”
A prickling feeling creeped up against his spine as Caleb made his way back into the kitchen, where you had the fight just before he left. The plates had been cleared away, leaving only a sticky note taped onto the table.
You finally got your dream. I hope you can be happier with MC and your family with her. It’s all for the best. Love, [name] :)
Caleb fell to his knees.
A choked cry echoed through the house.
What dream? What family?
What had he forsaken to chase after his selfish needs?
SYPNOSIS: caleb x non!mc, except x is a bit of a stretch. snippet of a much larger fic to come
“Is your wife always so…uptight?” You heard MC mumble.
You don’t know how you found it in yourself to stay out of Caleb’s business until now. Perhaps it was the blinding trust you had for this man, the strong, reliable colonel who had graciously married you, who had signed your marriage certificate with empty eyes. But deep down, you always knew.
From the day you came home from the courthouse, there has always been three in the spaces you occupied with your husband, three at the alter (you wondered if Caleb had imagined it was MC standing in your place on your wedding day), three in the bed (you could even imagine MC lying in empty space inbetween you and Caleb as you slept, and three at the table (at first before Caleb had learnt more about you, the dishes he served were all reminecent of MC’s favourites). You knew MC haunted, haunts, your marriage. But like any good wife, you looked the other way and hoped for the best.
That is, until now.
With your back pressed against the cold marble wall, you listened on to the conversation that Caleb was holding with MC in your living room, after an awkward dinner party to which Caleb had invited MC and her husband, Zayne, to attend.
“No, she’s just…” You heard your husband began, an awkward silence stretching over the expanse of MC’s living room.
I’m just what, Caleb?
“…she’s just emotional, that’s all.”
You heard MC snort. “Emotional? Hardly. I seem to remember that at your wedding, she was ever so meek and crittery, so nervous, so deferent, so grateful to marry the big strong colonel…” She sighed, “And I thought that, y’know, hey! She might do a lot of good for you. She’s like a squeaky mouse, just like another version of me, how I was your ‘pipsqueak’…” Her voice suddenly dropped to a whine.
“I thought maybe you found a better replacement.”
You heard sounds that indicated that Caleb stepped forwards to hug her.
“MC…nothing and nobody could ever replace you.” Caleb said gently, tightening his embrace.
They were silent for a long time. Tears had began to bead in your eyes.
“Well…on that happy note…” MC mumbled, her lips splitting into a wide smile, one hand coming to rest on her stomach, the other intertwining with Caleb’s.
your yandere isekai story is one of the best piece of writing I’ve had the chance to lay my eyes upon. It was fantastic. The way the reader was characterized in her inability to love/connect to her previously favourite character was really satisfying (though I wish she was meaner to him, but that’s just my avoidant personality speaking 🫣) of course the way the ml went trough is own various stages of grief until he realized is own feelings was also masterfully done. All of this to say, great job 👏 I’m still lurking to experience more of your writing.
Have a nice day/night!! 🩷
Thank you so much for enjoying it~ 🥹 i cant wait to write ✍️ more stories for you to enjoy, hopefully after im done with college i can get started! Please wait for mee ❤️
synopsis. emotions are hard to regulate and so is a fire evol.
pairing. rafayel qi x non-mc! reader
content/mdni. fem!reader, best friends!au, non-mc!reader, implied human!reader, embarrassed!rafayel, ashamed!rafayel, ANGST, hurt/no comfort (kinda?), attachment and abandonment issues, UNREQUITED LOVE (YOU AND RAF), mention of raf x emcee, raf CRIES, allusion to bond, fire evol gone wild (house fire), TW: almost MCD, TW: slight burns, TW: mention of SUICIDE (raf and you).
word count. 1.9k
a/n. evol out of hand is smut material, but what if i combine it with angst... 👀 please tell me your thoughts! feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated!
the notification pierced through the quiet of your evening like an arrow.
you’d been curled up on your couch, book resting forgotten in your lap, when your phone buzzed with an urgency that made your blood run cold.
the smoke alarm in rafayel’s house was active.
you stared at the notification, reading it again and again, waiting for another indicator that it was nothing serious. but it remained unchanged — the words staining your screen devastatingly firm.
your fingers trembled as you immediately called his number.
it rang once. twice. three times.
then voicemail.
his voice, that familiar, teasing tone you’d grown to cherish more than you’d ever admit, echoed in your ear.
“you’ve reached rafayel. leave a message, or don’t. i probably won’t call back anyway.”
a joke. always a joke with him, even in his voicemail greeting.
you called again. nothing.
again. still nothing.
the book slid to the floor, forgotten entirely. your heart hammered against your ribs as you grabbed your keys, not even bothering to change out of your inside clothes.
this was an emergency.
the drive to his mansion blurred past you — red lights, stop signs, other drivers who honked when you hit the gas pedal without a care.
you couldn’t think. couldn’t breathe. every worst-case scenario played behind your eyes like a horror film you couldn’t turn off.
what if the house was already consumed?
what if he was trapped inside?
what if–
you forced the thoughts down, but they clawed back up anyway. consuming you throughout the drive.
at last, the mansion came into view, and for one agonizing moment, you couldn’t tell if the orange glow spilling from the windows was fire or simply the sunset playing cruel tricks on you.
but as you drew closer, throwing the car into park in the driveway, you saw the truth.
smoke curled from the windows of his studio.
not the whole house, but it was still enough. enough to make your legs feel like they were made of jello as you ran towards the door.
your fingers punched in the code, and you pushed inside. searching for rafayel.
the heat hit you first.
then the smell.
smoke, of course, but also oil paint burning, canvas crackling — something that stung your eyes and throat all at once. you coughed, pulling the collar of your sweater over your nose, and pushed forward.
searching for rafayel.
the studio was at the end of the hall.
you’d been there a hundred times before: rafayel loved to paint late into the night, and you’d sit in the corner with tea, watching his hands move across the canvas.
pretending your heart didn’t ache every time he smiled back at you.
but tonight, the hallway seemed longer than it should have been.
finally, you reached the archway.
and your world stopped.
the flames weren’t consuming the whole room.
they circled him instead.
a perfect ring of fire that bloomed from the floorboards, crackling and spitting sparks into the air. the heat was unbearable, warping the air like a desert mirage, but you could still see him clearly.
rafayel was on the floor.
curled into himself, knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped around his head as if he could block out the world. his shoulders shook with violent, heaving sobs. his beautiful purple hair was disheveled, falling across his face in tangled strands.
he was trembling. from emotions so raw and consuming that they had physically manifested around him as a scorching fire.
and also…
the paintings.
your gaze swept the room, and your heart cracked further. canvases lined the walls — some were finished, some were half-complete, but they all shared the same subject.
her.
emcee.
the one whose name he whispered in his sleep during the rare nights he crashed on your couch. the one whose face you’d seen him sketch absentmindedly on napkins, on receipts, on the margins of magazines.
the one he’d confessed to you about six months ago, voice small and vulnerable.
“i think... i think she’s my soulmate.” he’d said, staring at the ceiling of your apartment. “but she doesn’t see me. she’s… in love with someone else.”
you’d held his hand that night, swallowing your own feelings, and told him that time healed everything.
you’d been lying.
now those gorgeous, heartbreaking paintings were catching fire.
one by one, the flames licked at the edges of the canvases, consuming her painted face. her eyes, rendered in such loving detail that you could see the warmth rafayel had poured into every brushstroke, were melting. her smile, the one he’d tried so desperately to capture, was turning to ash.
and in the center of it all, rafayel wept.
his fire evol had lost control completely.
you’d seen him use his powers before for small things, like lighting candles across a room, or warming his hands on cold days.
he was always so careful, so controlled, terrified of hurting anyone.
but this wasn’t control. this was grief that materialized. this was every swallowed word, every longing glance she’d never noticed, every night he’d gone to bed wondering why he wasn’t enough.
all of it exploding in a circle of flame.
“rafayel.” you called out.
your voice came out softer than you expected, almost engulfey by the crackling of the fire. but he heard you.
his head snapped up, and for a moment, you saw him.
his beautiful face was tear-streaked, his dual-colored eyes rimmed red and swollen. his lips parted, and something raw and broken flickered across his expression.
recognition. shame. desperation.
the fire around him flared higher, as if responding to his emotional turmoil.
“don’t.” he choked out, his voice hoarse from crying. “don’t– you need to go. now.”
you didn’t move.
his eyes widened, panic cutting through the grief.
“i’m serious! can’t you see? i can’t– i can’t control it. i’ll hurt you. please, just–” his voice cracked, and he buried his face in his palms again, shoulders heaving. “just go. leave me. i don’t want to hurt you too.”
too.
the word hung in the air, heavy with implication.
he’d already been hurt. wounded in a way that no amount of time or distance could heal. and now he sat in the middle of his own destruction, flames consuming the only evidence of his love.
because even his art couldn’t contain the pain anymore.
your heart broke.
not for yourself, but for him. for this man you loved with every fiber of your being, the man who would never look at you the way he looked at her, the man whose pain was so vast and consuming that it had literally set fire to his home.
you loved him.
gods, you loved him so much it burnt.
and maybe he would never love you back. maybe you would always be just his friend, just the person he called when he was sad. maybe your heart would never know what it feels like to be held by him the way he wanted to hold her.
but right now, none of that mattered.
because he was hurting.
because he was alone in the middle of a circle of fire, convinced that he was unworthy of comfort, convinced that he deserved to burn with his paintings.
you stepped forward.
“i said stay back!” rafayel screamed, scrambling backward until his spine hit the wall.
the flames roared higher, climbing toward the ceiling. a canvas to your left finally gave way, collapsing into a heap of burning wood and ash.
“are you insane? you’ll die! do you want to end up like them?” he gestured wildly at the burning paintings, at the melting faces of the woman he loved.
you didn’t stop.
your shoes hit the edge of the fire circle, and the heat was almost unbearable. you could feel it through the soles, the material beginning to soften and distort. your skin prickled with sweat, and your lungs burned with every breath of smoke-filled air.
yet you didn’t stop.
“rafayel.” you said again, softer this time. “i’m not leaving you.”
“yes, you are! you have to!” he pressed himself harder against the wall, as if he could disappear into it. “i can’t– i don’t want to– please, i’m begging you. i can’t lose you too.”
his voice broke entirely, dissolving into sobs that wracked his entire body.
you stepped into the fire.
the pain was immediate. your shoes caught first, the heat searing through to the bottoms of your feet. you bit back a shriek, refusing to let him hear your pain, refusing to give him another reason to push you away.
the flames licked at your ankles, and you were suddenly aware that your pants were starting to burn too.
you kept walking.
three steps. four steps.
five.
each one was agony. but you kept your eyes fixed on him. on rafayel, who was watching you with an expression of pure, horrified disbelief.
“what are you doing?” he whispered.
you didn’t answer.
the smoke was too thick, the heat too intense. your vision blurred — from tears or from the fire, you couldn’t tell. all you knew was that you had to reach him. had to hold him.
had to make him understand that he wasn’t alone, even if he felt like he was.
“please, stop–”
and alas, you reached him.
you dropped to your knees in front of him, ignoring the way the floorboards burned through the ruined remains of your shoes.
your hands found his shoulders, and you pulled.
he resisted for a moment, hard as a boulder, frozen in shock. but then something in him seemed to break entirely, and he collapsed against you.
his arms wrapped around your waist, and he buried his face in your chest, sobbing. great, heaving sobs that shook both of you.
his fingers curled into the fabric of your sweater, holding on like you were the only thing keeping him sane.
and maybe you were.
you wrapped your arms around him, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other pressing flat against his spine.
he was burning up: his skin was hot to the touch, feverish with emotions and his fire evol.
you held him anyway.
“i’ve got you.” you murmured into his hair, even as tears streamed down your own face. “i’ve got you, rafayel. i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.”
“i’m sorry.” he choked out, the words muffled against your sweater. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry–”
“shh. there’s nothing to be sorry for.”
“i almost killed you. i almost–” his voice fractured again. “you should hate me. you should run. why didn’t you run?”
you pulled back just enough to look at his face.
his eyes were wild, desperate, searching yours for an explanation. tears clung to his lashes, and his lips trembled with the effort of holding back another sob.
you cupped his face in your hands, ignoring the intense heat radiating from his skin.
“because...” you said, your voice steady despite the pain you were in. “you’re my best friend. and i love you. i wasn’t going to let you burn alone.”
and with that, the flames around you began to die.
not all at once. but slowly, shrinking back from the circle, until only small, dancing embers remained.
rafayel stared at the dying flames, then back at you.
bewildered.
“how did you–”
“you just needed someone to remind you that you’re worth saving.” you whispered. “even if you can’t see it right now.”
his lower lip trembled.
and then he was crying again, body shuddering in your embrace as everything inside him poured out.
you held him through all of it.
your feet were blistered. your lungs ached. your eyes burned from more than just the smoke.
but rafayel was alive. rafayel was in your arms. and for now, that was enough.
tags: @yuunileb, @xyzsbaobei, @loreleis-world, @demonicangelll, @dreamydaredevil, @glitterykingdomangel, @damianalily. if you see this and want to be added to the main taglist, please let me know!
synopsis: you've spent years being bullied by the pretty, white-haired princess the rest of your boarding school adores. who would have thought that whole time she was secretly crushing on you? or catfishing you?
pairing: yandere fem!gojo x loser!reader
wc: 7.1k
content: mdni, angst and smut mostly, DUBCON, fem!gojo referred to as toru, basically k-drama style bullying lmfao, catfishing, fem!toru roping suguru into her schemes to catfish reader, sending risque photos and videos, pining, obsession, stalking, isolation, fem!toru is down so bad it's FILTHY, betrayal, emotional hurt, reader lowk about to have a mental breakdown, fem!toru is delusional and in love, confessions, sorta blackmail, conflicting feelings, hotel room hookup, kissing, groping, fingering, degradation, fem!toru is GETTING her wife girlfriend
a/n: art by @/rezijellyfish !! this was a commission for my sweet angel @sadlittlecucumber !!
“Are you staring at my tits?”
You weren’t. Seriously. But when she was dramatically huffing and bouncing like that, your stare did flicker down for a fraction of a second and that was enough to secure a haughty scoff from your tormenter.
“God, do you ever stop checking me out?” Toru haughtily huffed at you, the edge of a freshly manicured nail scraping against your chin as she forced your head up. Careful not to let her fingers actually touch you, as if you had some disgusting disease she could touch if your skin brushed against yours. “My eyes are up here.”
Painfully blue. So intense they seemed to sear through you, shrink you down into something small enough for her to pick up and play with like a toy she enjoyed torturing.
Staring at you like you were something to devour.
From the very first day you started at this stupid all-girls school and had the misfortune of accidentally dropping one of your bags on her foot in the hallway while you moved into your dorm, she had decided you were the object of her animosity.
And despite how much time had passed, how many times you tried to clear the air and stay as fucking far as possible from her, she always seemed to find and remind you of just how much power she had here. Over you.
“I’m just trying to go back to my dorm,” you muttered, averting your stare as you stepped back, attempting to walk around her – and through the forming crowd of gossiping onlookers eager for some fresh rumor to sink their teeth into.
Toru would be happy to give it to them.
Tossing her soft, white hair over her shoulder, loose waves bouncing as she haughtily laughed and looked back at all the people surrounding the two of you. Any one of them ready and willing to support her when you were standing there practically as proof of what happened when you pissed her off.
“What? Sneak any shots up my skirt today to add to your perverted shrine?” She accused, your face flushing at the absurd insinuation.
Despite her frequent assertions otherwise, you were neither a lesbian nor hopelessly in love with her.
Her ego was just so huge, it was probably just inconceivable to her that someone could exist without wanting her.
But no matter how many times you swore you weren’t secretly obsessed with her and that there was no fucking shrine hidden in your closet or under your bed, she’d been saying the same shit long enough that no one believed you.
“Can you just leave me alone?” You frowned, forcing your way through the crowd to get past her as she called out some other teasing remark about you going to rub one out.
Loathing couldn’t quite suffice for just how much you couldn’t stand her.
Hate boiling and burning beneath your skin every time she hurled a new taunt your way, when she’d find you eating lunch in a single bathroom stall just to make your meals hell too, mocking you with glossy lips and a glittering smile while the rest of your class treated her like an angel even when her antics annoyed them.
And when the girl that could do no wrong wished the worst for you, well, it seemed the worst was all you got.
The rest of the student body had started treating you like shit too. Sneering and scolding you for staring, everyone convinced you had to be some sort of predator just because she said you liked girls.
People didn’t grin at you in the hallways.
Just glared.
Your room had been ransacked a few times, clothes tattered and wrecked with staff that didn’t care to scold them. Your lunches knocked out of your hand. Stupid notes stuck to your back during class.
There wasn’t a single person in this fucking place that wanted to be your friend.
But you guessed it didn’t matter.
You didn’t have that much longer left stuck here.
Graduation was coming up soon – and despite the hell boarding school had been, the scholarship you’d been granted to attend had set you up for a pretty nice looking future. One without Toru.
You locked the door to your room behind you, dropping your bag to the ground before collapsing onto your bed. Exhaling as your eyes shut, a migraine budding behind them from spending another day attempting to avoid her and failing miserably.
Rolling over to pluck your phone from your pocket, your mouth reflexively curled up into a smile at the name on the screen. The one bright light in the midst of this pit of misery filled with pretty girls who thought you were pining after them and tried to punish you for it.
All of them absolutely clueless that you were already taken.
By a man they would definitely be desperate to call theirs too.
You’d been seeing Satoshi for two years.
Sorta.
You hadn’t officially met him yet. Not when you started talking through a dating app. Back then, you’d been craving any company so much you had caved and downloaded a bunch. And you had lucked out to land an equally lonely person.
Your relationship had been fairly casual at first, late night conversations where you stayed up until your eyes were sore and you nearly fell asleep sitting up in half your classes. Things had picked up this past year, the photos that used to be half your face or whatever you were doing escalating to more…intimate images. His questions turned more personal too, picking apart your brain until he knew probably more about you than anyone you’d ever met before.
Sure, it wasn’t conventional. But he had sent plenty of his own questionable pictures and voice messages to quell any of your suspicions. He never asked for money either, instead showering you with attention and sending you expensive gifts (although everyone on your floor was convinced you were spending what little money you had sending them to yourself). He was wearing a uniform from an all-boys boarding school not all that far away in a lot of them – but between sports and classes and busy schedules, neither of you had been able to arrange a proper meet up.
Until this weekend.
Finally, you’d be able to do something other than giggle and grin at the photos of his pretty washboard abs and replay his thick, groggy good morning messages.
He made reservations at a fancy hotel nearby, promising that he’d be waiting for you there with the biggest bouquet he could buy and wearing his best outfit in blue, sending you sweet messages about how badly he was aching to be yours in person instead of just online.
Most people would think you made him up.
And honestly, at first, when you tried to dispel the rumors and whispers about you being a lesbian by protesting and bringing up that you literally had a boyfriend, but when he actually went to another school, no one would believe you.
Eventually, you gave up. Stopped seeing a point in swearing the truth when everyone else would always prefer the lie.
It gave them someone lower on the totem pole to push around.
Kept them safe from Toru’s reign of terror.
Why would they listen?
You told yourself that you were almost free. So fucking close to being out of her reach.
They could all worship at her feet and follow her around like the lost puppies they were. You weren’t going to be a loser lingering in her shadow forever. Not when you still had your support in Satoshi.
A new notification buzzed on your phone, breath catching in your throat in anticipation as you clicked on it too fast, before you could even read it.
You should’ve looked.
An unknown number and a nasty word stared back at you, your fingers automatically moving to block the number and delete it with a frown.
Immediately re-opening your messages with Satoshi as you sniffled a little, too exhausted to keep the swirling emotions inside you at bay as you sent a short message, biting your lip until you tasted the blood on your tongue.
Can you talk right now?
ε✿з
“Please, please, please, please-”
“God, do you ever shut up?” Suguru groaned, rubbing his temple while Toru thrusted the phone in his face.
“But I need your help,” she whined, pouting harder as he squinted at the messages.
“You said you’d tell your girlfriend last month,” he annoyingly reminded her, brows knitting together in irritation as he reluctantly took the phone anyway, readjusting on his bed after she unceremoniously burst into his room after getting a ride all the way to their rival boarding school. “Don’t particularly feel like doing this for two more years.”
God, what good was a best friend if they wouldn’t help in a time of need? Wasn’t he supposed to be a wingman?
“I’m telling her this weekend,” Toru frowned back, folding her arms across her chest as she glanced around his dorm room. It was honestly cleaner than hers, in shades of gray and green instead of the soft blue she was used to. Books actually neatly stacked on his desk instead of scattered haphazardly on every surface. “I wanna make it romantic. Like, book a hotel room and everything.”
Buy you flowers, maybe an expensive set of lingerie, have them scatter rose petals over the bed and leave champagne on the table. Book a couples massage and take you out to a fancy dinner? Sure, she’d probably have to apologize for being a bit of a bitch to you over the years, but once you saw how serious she was about being in a relationship with you, couldn’t you just let bygones by bygones?
Suguru arched one of those thin eyebrows, giving her one of those irksome looks that implied he didn’t think it was a good idea.
But he was a man.
What did they know?
“You think she’s going to take it well?” He tentatively asked, and she couldn’t help scoff.
“She likes Satoshi. Satoshi is me,” she simply said, gesturing with her hands as if it should be obvious. “Besides, shouldn’t she be grateful for my attention? Anyone would be.”
Suguru laughed, like it was a joke.
But she just scowled back at him, completely serious as she tried to get what he didn’t get about the whole thing.
Whoever got to be with her was the lucky one.
Toru was beyond beautiful. Wealthy. Wore the best clothes and went to all the best vacation spots every year. Who wouldn’t want to be hers?
It was just common sense.
She’d been worshipped from the day she was born. It wasn’t like she was expecting you to do the same. She just wanted you to see how fortunate you were to have her favor.
God, any girl would die to be in your shoes. Guys too, actually, beg for her attention and crawl on their knees for the tiniest slice of the attention she gave you.
Sure, maybe she wasn’t always good at getting it across verbally, but she couldn’t risk someone else sneaking in and stealing your attention! Besides, her mouth seemed to always speak for itself around you, never saying exactly what she intended to when all her brain could think of was the shape of your lips and how your uniform clung to your tits since she’d bribed the office to keep sending you the size down.
She could admit that she could be a little aggressive, but she just wanted you to finally fucking admit that you wanted her too. Not just play hard to get and avoid her all the damn time.
“She’s probably just going to complain about you,” Suguru warned her, jealousy flaring up in her chest as she ran her fingers through her hair.
What the hell did he know?
At least you were talking about her.
Toru would rather your thoughts revolve around her than to be nothing to you at all.
“She was definitely checking out my tits today,” she defensively argued, even though Suguru was still making an annoying face at her. So what if he didn’t believe her?
You had, hadn’t you? This wasn’t just totally in her head?
Maybe you didn’t even realize you’d done it. Toru had been trying her hardest to get you to see that you were obviously a lesbian like her, that the two of you were clearly compatible.
“Uh-huh,” he mumbled, and she wanted to yank the pillow out from underneath his head and smother him with it.
“Are you going to call her or not?” She pouted, returning to the point as he slowly scrolled through the messages.
She imagined you back in your own bed, maybe biting your pretty lips until they were swollen, breaking the skin as you waited for a response. Would you let Toru lick the blood off if you knew it was her on the other end?
“For fifty bucks,” he exhaled, and she once again contemplated suffocating him.
But she was still shrugging down her purse, digging through its messy contents to pull out a hundred and toss it at him.
“You’re such a dick,” she derisively huffed, even though she had started this whole arrangement by promising to pay him a couple years ago. Begging him to let her use his photos to catfish you, and despite his initial moral protests that it was wrong, blah blah blah, he eventually caved in.
It wasn’t ever supposed to last this long.
She meant to tell you months ago. But there were always pesky little flies buzzing around every time she tried to talk to you at school, and she couldn’t get the correct words to leave her lips when everyone was always watching the two of you together.
God, even when she tried to talk to you in the bathroom when you ate your lunch in there alone, people still fucking followed her.
“You better pull your pants down a little and snap a pic if I’m paying you,” she hissed at her only actual friend, just for Suguru to roll his eyes at her again from his lazy position on the bed.
God, did she have to do everything herself?
She climbed on top, grabbing his slacks by the hips and wiggling it down as low as she could without revealing his disgusting dick. She didn't really understand what you could possibly find appealing about the obviously inferior gender, but maybe it was just because you didn't know better yet. Hadn't seen what her pretty tits looked like without her uniform covering them or properly experienced a woman’s touch.
“Are you serious-”
Toru ignored Suguru, tugging his shirt up too and snagging the phone back, carefully angling it to snap a photo that captured his dark happy trail, the defined muscles and ridges of his abs and hitting send.
It was almost instantly marked as seen.
She stared at the screen, willing your response, wishing for something in return and grinning wildly when you sent an image back.
Your uniform removed to reveal your gorgeous tits pressed together in a pretty white bra. Had you picked it out for her? Or well, Satoshi? Your face wasn’t in it, but she could imagine what expression you were making. How your lashes might flutter, how your bottom lip might push out.
Were you touching yourself?
“Do you still want me to call her or do you wanna go rub one out?” Suguru sarcastically asked, his voice thick with sleep from the nap she ‘rudely’ interrupted.
“Ask her to send a video of her doing that,” she demanded, holding the phone back out while he let out a low exhale, shutting his eyes like he hadn’t meant to sign up for that.
“Do I at least get to watch the video if she sends it?” He grumbled, and Toru glared back at him, folding her arms across her chest as she gritted her teeth.
“Fine,” she begrudgingly accepted.
It was only natural, she supposed. She spent almost every day bragging to him about how gorgeous you were, rambling about all the cute faces you made and funny things you’d said. Of course, he’d want to experience the little pieces of you Toru was generous enough to share.
He took the phone, hitting the call button as Toru gestured for him to put in on speaker while it rang. He did, and you only took a second to answer.
“Hi,” your soft voice breathed on the other end, and a jolt of excitement shot through Toru.
You sounded so adorable. She just wanted to take a bite. Sink her teeth into you so deep you’d be stuck with the bite marks for the rest of your life.
“Hey, pretty girl,” Suguru greeted, keeping a straight face while Toru suppressed actually giggling at the light sound of your pretty laughter through the phone.
“What are you doing?” You asked, all sweet and sincere.
“Just thinkin’ about you,” Suguru smoothly replied. Toru couldn’t help rolling her eyes at him, having a hard time believing any girl could actually be stupid enough to-
“Really?”
Nevermind.
This was exactly why you needed Toru. Sure, Suguru was her best friend, but moronic men like him would never be able to take care of you like she could!
“I liked that photo you sent me,” he murmured into the phone, pitching his voice down while Toru’s nails bit into her palm, imprinting half-circles into them as she heard your breathing hitch on the other end.
“Y-yeah?” You stuttered a little bit, as precious as always. A little awkward, too, but that was part of what made you so addicting. What made Toru so desperate to be the one you were stammering and stumbling over your words for. “I liked yours.”
“You wanna show me just how much?” Suguru spoke slowly, leaving the implication up in the air for you to jump to your own conclusion.
To decide just how badly you wanted to please Satoshi.
“You want another photo?” You asked after a moment, temptation teetering there. Toru was dying to touch you. Be there in your bed as she heard your sheets rustling underneath your body through the grainy line. Replaying all the pretty expressions you’d worn in the hall earlier, imagining how different the one you had on now was.
“I want more, angel,” Suguru replied, immediately reminding Toru that you still didn’t know you were hers yet, still enveloped in this boy version of her that she and Suguru fabricated. “Are you touching yourself for me?”
“Maybe,” you shyly said, close enough to a confession.
“Think you could record it for me, sweetheart?” He hummed, careful not to sound demanding, just issuing a little dare she knew you would take out of fear of disappointing him.
“If you really want me to,” you hesitantly replied, all light and airy. Barely needing to be nudged to agree to send a video of your breathy moans, one where your fingers would slip underneath your matching panties as you cried out after someone that never really existed.
“Good girl.”
You didn’t even ask him not to show anyone else.
Just blindly trusted him.
Would you still feel the same when you knew it was really her? Follow her lead and stay on her leash?
Sometimes, you sorta reminded Toru of a lost little lamb. One she had to shepherd back into place. It wasn’t like she was trying to put the crook around your neck, to pull you close, but she’d do what she had to just to have you.
ε✿з
Be there in five. Can’t wait for you to finally be mine.
“Can I help you, miss?” A hotel employee startled you, blinking hard a few times in surprise as you swallowed hard and shook your head.
“I’m, um, just waiting on someone,” you answered with a tight smile, grateful when they seemed to accept that answer, nodding politely and walking away as you rested against the wall rather than taking a seat on one of the stiff couches clustered together by coffee tables nearby.
You were too anxious to sit.
Nerves racing under your skin as you continuously checked the time, smoothing out the skirt you picked out and glancing down at the revealing shirt you’d chosen after he made a comment about how much he was looking forward to burying his face against your breasts.
But as minute five came and passed, you still hadn’t spotted a single sign of him.
You felt like an idiot, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you kept scanning the lobby for a glimpse of blue like he promised. Pulling up your phone to read and reread his latest message for comfort.
Fingers tapping the keyboard, typing out a message to ask if he was close only to delete it and try to reword it, wasting another few minutes struggling to come up with something not totally desperate to say only to come up empty.
A familiar giggle made your blood run cold.
In a single instant, your mood was spoiled, rotten, head snapping in trepidation as you saw the blue you were searching for at the receptionist’s desk. Just on the wrong person.
A tight blue dress clinging to the hips of your least favorite person, pushing her boobs up and riding high on her thighs as she turned towards you, eyes locking onto yours like she already knew you’d be here.
The receptionist passed her two keycards, and she had to readjust the huge bouquet of flowers in her hand to grab it before she started walking towards you, her tall heels clicking against the tiled lobby.
“Don’t you look adorable?” She smiled at you. Smiled. You were pretty sure your brain short-circuited. Overwhelmed by the fact a compliment had left her lips with not a hint of cruelty. Perhaps a sliver of condescension, but unless your stare was suddenly deceiving you (and you so badly wished it was) she actually appeared genuine.
“W-what are you-” You started stammering, heat rushing up to your face as she stepped even closer, looking down at you with amusement glittering in her pretty eyes as she pushed the flowers into your arms.
“I'm Satoshi, silly,” she hummed, her mouth curling up in a smirk that just screamed she was proud of her scheme.
“No, no,” you bluntly said, struggling to breathe when her words threatened to unravel years of a relationship you’d been clinging to, counting on to keep your sanity intact. “He called me. Sent me voice messages, photos-”
“I had to get my friend Suguru to help,” she admitted, fake sympathy in her practiced smile as she reached out and touched your cheek. Caressed it with her soft fingers while you stood there in too much shock to recoil. “But all the conversations were me, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
The word had never made you feel so fucking sick before.
Satoshi had called you that all the time. But he was apparently her, and the realization that all your raw vulnerabilities, all the times you poured your heart and soul out just for Toru to be on the receiving end. All those reassurances you’d hung onto, the pretty words you copied down into diaries and woven into your brain, they all belonged to her.
Betrayal burning through you as you tried to process the depth of their deception. How many layers to it were there? How much time had she spent just to keep up this charade? Pretending to be a fucking man to what?
Humiliate you even more than she did on a daily basis?
“Am I just a sick joke to you?” You asked, voice thick with hurt you couldn't hide anymore. She tormented you for years. What the hell else were you supposed to think?
“You're my girlfriend?” She retorted, tilting her head to the side as if she couldn't understand what you were confused about.
“You hate me,” you pointed out, mentally replaying every mean word out of her mouth from the day you met. All the times she accused you of wanting to have sex with her and basically being a lovesick loser.
“I like you,” she corrected you, and you got the distinct impression this wasn't exactly the reaction she'd been expecting from you.
And in the next thick pause, the silence where you stared at her with an open mouth, you realized that perhaps she'd been projecting.
That maybe the obsessed one had been her all along.
You stepped back, shaking your head as you heard yourself scoff.
“Do you just want me to say sorry?” Toru asked, her glittery lip gloss catching the light as she dramatically pouted. “I am, you know, I just get so excited when I see you, it’s hard to hold it in.”
You blinked.
Her eyes shifted down to your chest, openly ogling you as pink bloomed against her pretty cheeks, her fingers slipping back into your hair like you were a couple.
As if, in any universe, this could be considered normal.
You wanted to scream.
To storm off and slam the glass door behind you.
Go back to your room and cry into the pillow after you scrubbed every stupid photo and video you ever saved of Satoshi from your phone.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to graduate and get as far from Toru as possible, find a place with your boyfriend and start a new life where you could forget about the past few years you’d spent here.
“What did I do to ever deserve you doing this to me?” You breathed, a hot lump forming in your throat as you tried to hold back the sob that wanted to break out. Hyper aware of how hard you tried on your makeup this morning, how much time you’d spent picking out what to wear and how to style your hair, desperate to impress someone who apparently didn’t even exist.
The tears were welling up anyway, heavy in your lashes and collecting in the corners of your eyes as you felt the stares of people passing by. The whispering you’d gotten used to whenever you were around Toru.
Her face scrunched up, her annoyingly pretty mouth parting as she moved her hand to drag her thumb underneath your eyes. Wiping away your tears while she tilted her head to the side, loose waves bouncing in time with her huff, “Are you seriously crying?”
“You catfished me,” you said, hating how crushed you sounded. But you were. In a handful of seconds, she had decimated any ounce of your confidence you had left. Reduced you to rubble under her stupid red-bottomed heels and then rubbed it into the glossy tiles you were standing on. “You’ve been calling me a lesbian for years, but you-”
“That’s because you are one,” she said, perfectly plucked brows knitting together tightly as she took a small step closer. Almost enough for both your chests to touch, her eyes drifting back down for what felt like the twentieth time at your shirt. “I mean, I am too, was it not obvious?”
No, it absolutely wasn’t fucking obvious, but the way she said it was enough to make you freeze.
Honestly, if anything, you thought she was a little homophobic before this, but you didn’t know how she’d take that.
“Come on, you can just admit that you were crushing on me, you don’t have to keep-” You made some sound at her insane statement, pure disgust mixing with the scoff that escaped.
“I hate you,” you half-whispered. Loathing burning in those three short words as you tried to find the strength to move. But she didn’t flinch. Just pursed her lips together as she batted her soft, white lashes at you.
“You told Satoshi you loved him last night,” she so unhelpfully reminded you, speaking slowly as if she was giving you time to think between her words. “That means you love me.”
“I-”
You couldn’t even get out what you wanted to say when she started twirling a loose strand of your hair around one of her long fingers.
Was she actually trying to seduce you?
Her chest pressed against yours, not sparing so much as a glance to anyone else in the lobby despite how much attention she had to know she was drawing as you felt her tits through her thin dress rubbing against yours like you were playing the starring role in a cheap porno.
“Think about all those late nights we stayed up together,” she purred, looking down at you the same way she always did, and you wondered how you ever could have missed the hunger in them before.
Well, that wasn’t quite true. You’d seen it.
You just hadn’t realized what she was starving for.
“All those times we talked about our families and our lives and what we wanted to do with them. All the stuff we wanted to do together,” Toru hummed, her nose nearly brushing against yours now too. You were struggling to wrap your head around the idea of her being the one you spilled everything too. Fuck, how many times had you complained to her about her?
“I didn’t know-” You started, but she made a soft shushing sound that somehow shut you up.
“We can still do all of it,” she promised, like you had any interest in any of it now that you knew what a fool you’d been for putting your trust in someone you never actually knew. In her. “Me and you.”
You got the impression in your already flustered brain that she was trying to be romantic.
That this was all supposed to be some grand gesture to show you that her feelings were genuine.
But it just felt like fresh embarrassment.
Your heart slamming against your rib cage while your thoughts ran in the same panicked circles, falling apart in front of a room full of strangers.
It sort of felt like you were being proposed to in public. Forced to say yes to not seem like a total asshole when everyone else was probably convinced she was earnestly confessing to you.
And after years of being around her, you already had the experience to know the universe would always side with her.
“What do you expect me to say?” You finally spoke, flat-out dumbfounded as your voice trembled. Her treachery was already twisting into something else in your stomach, your body attempting to turn it into something flattering just so you could cope with it. The intoxicating scent of her perfume stuffing your nostrils and clouding your thinking as you struggled to sort out all the different emotions rattling around inside you.
The hurt and the heartache and the conflicting feelings of loss and longing for someone that wasn’t there. The scariest part was that some sliver of you was starting to consider Toru.
Starting to want her.
Acknowledging that you couldn’t actually have Satoshi, and coming to the conclusion that she was the closest fucking thing you had.
The thought itself was incredibly depressing.
“I love you, Toru?” She offered, doing her own impression of your voice.
“I don’t,” you argued, although you weren’t sure how convincing it actually came out when her proximity left your voice quivering.
“What? You only loved me as a boy then?” She grinded her sharp canines, not quite glaring, but clearly unhappy as her blue eyes bored into yours.
“How was I supposed to know my boyfriend was you?”
Other than the fact he was obviously too good to be true. A guy like that would never be interested in you. No, the only person who was, apparently, was your insane classmate who’d been pretending to be a man for two years just to get you to fall for her.
You almost wished this was simply blackmail. That she just wanted to hold your humiliation over your head.
This felt so much worse. So much ickier.
Especially when your body was beginning to betray your mind just with her touch, her scent, warping what your senses with her cruel fingers and soft skin.
“A girlfriend is way better than a boyfriend,” she huffed at you, rolling her eyes like you should already know that.
“You want to be my girlfriend?” You asked, meant to be rhetorical rather than serious. But her eyes lit up, lips lifting up into a blinding smile as she nodded.
“Duh.”
No. No. No.
This could not be-
“Let’s go check out our room,” she hummed, effortlessly changing the subject as she backed off only to grab your wrist. Throwing an annoyed look over her shoulder at all the passerbys who had not-so-subtly paused to watch whatever was happening between both of you. “So annoying how people are always obsessed with me.”
Too blind to see how much of a hypocrite she was being.
You were too stunned to stop her. Feet uselessly following after her as her pale fingertips dug deeper into your skin, dragging you around like you were just an accessory on her arm.
Feeling almost like you were floating along, trying to tell yourself that this was all just some fucked-up dream you’d wake up from before you got there.
But you didn’t.
Just standing there like an idiot when she was holding the keycard up to the door, glancing down to realize you were still holding the flowers in your other limp hand.
The saddest part was you were pretty sure no one else would give you anything as remotely nice as these.
“I wasn’t trying to ask you to be-” You tried one more time, but she was already opening the door and pulling you in.
“You know, you’re kinda being ungrateful,” she huffed, shutting the door with a heavy thud as she dropped her designer purse on the floor. You didn’t even think she knew how much it cost. Probably just purchased it without considering how many meals that much money could’ve bought someone else.
“I’m ungrateful?” You echoed, hurt coiling hot in your core as you stared in disbelief at her in front of you. You wanted it to be hurt, at least, forcing yourself to look away only to find rose petals all over the floor.
She reached around to start pulling down the zipper of her dress, stepping out of her heels without pausing before shimmying her clothes off.
Shit.
She wasn’t wearing a fucking shred underneath.
You weren’t a lesbian. At least, you were pretty sure you weren’t a lesbian. But something was fluttering inside you against your will at the subtle bounce of her breasts when she bent over to pick up a rose petal and pinch it between her fingers, pouting like she was disappointed by the color of them.
“I mean, you have me in front of you, and you’re not even appreciating it,” she complained.
“If you’re expecting me to beg for you-” you started, awkwardly turning to place the flowers on the closest table, but that only gave her the opportunity to move closer. To bridge the gap between you.
“I’m not,” she argued back, but the mischievous little grin on her face was enough to cast doubt. “But you will anyway.”
Your mouth fell open, and it felt like she had your heart in her fist, squeezing it to watch the blood slowly drip out.
“I’ve seen how pretty you look begging,” she murmured, and that heat simmering inside you just creeped higher, flooding your face as you realized what she meant. Remembered all those videos you’d sent her thinking Satoshi was seeing them. “Wanna hear it for myself.”
And before you could even deal with the notion that Toru had a plethora of videos of you masturbating stashed away, that she probably had fingered herself to you, she was kissing you.
She tasted like candy.
Sugary sweet gloss melting onto your lips as her mouth messily collided with yours. You froze for a few moments, but your lips started to kiss her back. Parting to let her tongue slip in as you were torn between telling her to stop and letting this continue.
What could you do?
What should you do?
If she sent those videos to anyone, your life would be fucking ruined. But you didn’t want to just be Toru’s pet, something she doted on in secret and embarrassed in public.
And at the same time, your body was reacting to hers almost instinctively, leaning forward instead of pulling away, despite your arms falling to your side, unsure if you could even touch her back.
Toru, on the other hand, was grabbing a handful of your ass – and one of your tits too. Groping and squeezing while her tongue explored your mouth like she owned it all.
Maybe if you gave into her now, if you let her have this, have you this once, you could still just leave anyway after graduation. Change your number when you changed cities, fuck, maybe changed countries if it meant getting away from the war she was waging between your head and heart.
“You’re such a bitch,” you breathed when she broke the kiss, knowing that if she kissed you again, you weren’t going to stop her either.
She laughed. At that, or maybe just at you.
And then she was grabbing your hips, twisting you around and guiding you back to the bed, pushing you down on it hard enough to knock the air from your chest.
“Don’t be a brat,” she pouted, pushing her glossy lips out as she easily rolled up your little skirt around your hips. Grinning at the sight of your lacy little panties, the pure white shade that came a little too close to her hair that she quickly pulled down around your thighs next.
“I’m not a-”
Your words died in your throat as she slipped a delicate finger inside your warmth before you could protest what exactly you were. No better than a bitch in heat when just an experimental circle had a broken gasp escaping your mouth.
She smiled at you again, pride and amusement shining like stars in her blue stare. You supposed she’d just found a new way to play with her favorite toy.
“You’re so cute,” she complimented, climbing on top of you, her knee nudging your thighs further apart as her other hand trailed underneath your shirt.
You swallowed hard. You knew you should say something else.
Tell her to fuck off.
But nothing came out.
All the words dried up as she dragged her finger even deeper inside you.
And then added another digit. Slowly getting to work stretching you open, feeling the way your walls started to squeeze down reflexively as she held your stare hostage.
“You wanna tell me just how much you don’t like me?” She condescendingly hummed, daring you to disagree with her.
“Do you hate me?” You asked instead, still struggling to wrap your head around the fact this was happening, no longer confident in something you had been certain of an hour ago. That somehow, you were proving her right. That just by being underneath her like this, with the taste of her candied lip gloss on your mouth and her fingers stuffing you full, you had become exactly what she said you were.
A loser in love with her.
You tried to tell yourself again that you weren’t.
“I’m literally, like, in love with you,” she pouted, a hint of a familiar whine in it like she was sick of saying the same thing in different ways. “What do I have to do to make you see that, hm, pretty?”
Probably erase the past few years from your memory, but you had a feeling she might engineer something like a car accident if it had the chance to cause retrograde amnesia – and force you to let her take care of you.
And then her thumb drifted over your clit, and you forgot what you were thinking anyway with the soft pressure she applied.
“Doesn’t it feel good?” She hummed, begging to rub careful circles over it, your body tensing as your chest tightened at the sensation. Your overheating core threatened to send shivers down your spine as her fingertips prodded deeper, faster.
“T-Toru-” You didn’t know what you were even trying to say, brows knitting together as sweat started to drip down your forehead, everything inside you quickly grew all fuzzy.
“You know, no one else could make you feel this good, sweetheart,” she said, teasing you as her thumb pressed that sensitive bud between your thighs like it was a goddamn button.
Activating an embarrassingly primal part of your brain as you felt the pleasure build closer towards a climax you couldn’t believe you might be having.
“No one else will ever know you like I do,” Toru continued, and you loathed that she might be correct. You told her everything. Every thought. Every secret. Every dream. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to trust anyone else like that again. “Love you like I do.”
You wanted to hate this as much as you hated her.
But her fingers were longer than yours, hitting spots you couldn't on your own as she slipped a third one in, swirling it around to tease you with that pretty, lilting laugh of hers.
“Look at you,” she cooed, still mocking you even when you were in her hotel bed. “Soaked on my fingers like a slut.”
You were.
Shaking and squirming as her fingers pumped in and out of you, whimpering weakly as she played you like a goddamn instrument. You knew you were going to cum.
Knew that she’d won.
Toru had made a mess of you. Unravelled you into a million little pieces that probably would never be put back together again.
“That’s it, my pretty little lamb,” she cooed, and you wished your head was a little clearer to understand what she giggled about next. Your thighs trembling when she finally crooked her fingers just right, her thumb dragging over your clit with the perfect amount of pressure to finally make you cum for her.
Your eyes drifting down to her bare body over you, her perfect tits, her flawless skin, the shape of her hips and thighs as her fingers worked in and out of you, her thumb working you through your orgasm as you broke.
Bent into something unrecognizable under her pressure, her presence, blinking as your brain basically stopped functioning when she filled it with just thoughts of her.
Watching numbly when she stood up and walked to her bag and back, white hair spilling over her shoulder as she tilted her head to the side to look at the phone in her hand, squinting at the screen as she angled it to capture where you were splayed out in the bleached white sheets.
Synopsis: On your fifth wedding anniversary, Caleb's first love returns to Linkon City. That night, you catch Caleb masturbating in the bathroom, muttering MC's name.
Huh. So that's why Caleb didn't touch you in your five whole years of marriage.
Caleb: I promised MC I'd celebrate her birthday with her. I'm just fulfilling a promise I made a long time ago.
You: Okay.
Caleb: I'm going on a mission, MC will be acting as my assistant, she has experience as a Hunter, she's suited for the role
You: Go ahead.
When you stopped getting angry, stopped crying, and stopped making a scene, he's lost.
Of course you weren't angry anymore, because you were leaving too.
Warning(s): ANGST. 30k WORDS OF PURE HURT/NO COMFORT. Non-cannonical timeline/events (no evol shenanigans). I had an interesting time exploring Caleb's selfish, egoistical, possessive, but also oblivious sides. MC and Gideon are assholes. Liam and Yvette are shockingly the best couple. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
29.9k words
A/N: This was a monster of a fic to write; I literally made myself cry in the process. Please tell me in the comments how much your blood pressure increased by reading this and how you'd like Caleb to die (or if you think he deserves some redemption). In the meantime, feel free to ship non-mc with any of the other LIs! Thank you to everyone who has been patiently waiting for this super long piece; I hope it lives up to everyone's expectations <3
T - 30 days
The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom.
Caleb is taking a shower.
At 3am.
He had just returned from god knows where.
You stand at the bathroom door, a little nervous, wanting to discuss something with him. Just as you are trying to figure out the best way to phrase it, you hear a strange sound coming from inside. After listening carefully, you realize with a gasp that he was taking care of himself…
Each breath and groan is like a heavy hammer blow, relentlessly pounding on your heart. The pain spreads like a tidal wave, leaving you sinking in it, unable to breathe.
Actually, today is your wedding anniversary. Your fifth year of marriage, and you've never consummated it.
So, he preferred to take care of himself rather than touch you?
As his breathing grows more rapid, he suddenly lets out a low growl, his voice strained with barely suppressed emotion, "Pipsqueak-"
That one word delivers the final, fatal blow.
Your heart pounds, as if something just shattered into dust.
You try to cover your mouth to stifle your sobs, and turn to run, but stumble on your first step, bumping into the sink and falling to the floor.
"Y/N?" Caleb's voice inside hasn't calmed down yet; you can tell he is trying to control himself, but his breathing is still heavy.
"I...I need to use the restroom, I didn't know you were taking a shower..." you stammer, clumsily grabbing the sink to stand up.
The floor and sink are wet. The more you try, the more helpless the situation becomes. By the time you finally manage to stand, Caleb emerges from the door, his white bathrobe hastily pulled on with the belt fastened tightly.
"Did you fall? Let me help you." He makes a move to pick you up. Tears well in your eyes from the pain, but you push his hand away, your expression a mixture of distress and determination. "No need, I can do it myself."
After nearly slipping again, you limp and stagger back to your bedroom.
No, "escape" is the more accurate word.
For the five years you were married to Caleb Xia, you've been doing nothing but constantly running away.
Running away from the outside world, from everyone's strange looks, and from Caleb's pity and sympathy—his wife is a cripple.How can a cripple be worthy of the brilliant and successful Caleb Xia?
You were not always like this...
Caleb follows you out, his voice gentle and concerned. "Did you hurt yourself? Let me see."
"No, I'm fine." You pull the blanket tighter around yourself, hiding your disheveled state under it.
"Are you really alright?" He sounds genuinely concerned.
“Mmm.” You nod vigorously, back facing him.
“So, are you going to sleep? Didn’t you want to go to the bathroom?”
“I don’t want to anymore now, let’s sleep?” You whisper.
“Alright," he pauses. "By the way, today is our anniversary. I bought you a present. You can open it tomorrow and see if you like it.”
“Okay.” The present is on the bedside table; you've already seen it, but you already know what is inside without even opening it.
It's the same size box every year, containing the exact same necklace.
In your drawer, there are already nine identical ones. This is the tenth.
The conversation ends there. Caleb turns off the light and lies down across from you. The damp scent of bodywash fills the air, but you barely feel the bed sink. In the two-meter-wide bed, you sleep on one side, and him on the other side at the very edge; there is enough space in between for at least another 3 people.
Neither of you mention "pipsqueak", nor what he had just done in the bathroom, as if nothing happened. You lie stiffly, eyes burning with pain.
Pipsqueak, or MC, was his adopted younger sister, his first love, his goddess.
Upon high school graduation, MC went abroad, leaving Caleb behind. He was devastated.
You and Caleb were classmates in middle and high school.
You admit that you had a crush on him at the time.
Back then, he was the school heartthrob, a cool and aloof academic star, while you considered yourself pretty ordinary. Not the most academically gifted, nor the most popular or pretty. You had a face everyone could recognize, but not many could describe. Besides, you had larger dreams back then. You were a dancer; started when you were young. The stage was where you felt the most at home.
So, it was just a secret crush for you; you never thought you would ever stand beside him.
Until you return home for summer vacation after graduating from the conservatory and encounter Caleb in a wreck.
That night, he was drunk, walking erratically, crossing the street without looking at the traffic lights. A car sped towards him, and you, worried and following close behind, pushed him out of the way, getting hit by the car yourself.
You thought you had done good for yourself up to that point, successfully completing your dance studies and hoping to get a position in one of the large dance companies in the city.
The accident left you with a serious limp.
You'd never be able to dance again.
Shortly after, he swore off drinking and married you.
He was forever guilty, forever grateful, forever soft-spoken, and forever showered you with gifts and money.
Yet at the same time, forever indifferent.
The only thing he couldn't give you was love.
In the beginning, you naively thought that time could heal all wounds, dilute all the pain.
But you never could have imagined that five years later, he would still remember the name "pipsqueak" so vividly, calling out to her when he is serving himself.
In the end, you were simply too foolish…
When Caleb gets up for his Colonel duties, you still pretend to be asleep. You hear him talking to the housekeeper outside: "I have a company dinner tonight. Tell my wife not to wait for me and to go to bed early."
After giving the instructions, he comes back into the room to check on you again. You hide under the covers, your pillow soaked with tears.
Usually, when he goes to any of the Farspace Fleet galas, you would prepare his outfit in advance.
But not tonight.
He goes to the dressing room to change himself and heads to work.
You open your eyes, feeling them swell uncomfortably.
Your phone alarm rings.
It's the time you set for yourself to get up and study.
Because of your leg injury, since getting married, you spend most of your time at home, rarely going out. You divide your day into blocks, finding something to occupy your time.
You pick up your phone, turn off the alarm and start scrolling aimlessly through various apps.
Your mind is a jumbled mess, unable to absorb anything.
Until, you suddenly come across a video on a certain social media platform.
The person in the video looks so familiar…
The account name: Pips_apple.
The posting time was last night.
You click on the video, and immediately, upbeat music starts playing, followed by someone shouting: One, two, three, welcome back Pipsqueak! Cheers!
It's Caleb's voice.
He broke his vow of abstinence from alcohol.
He's even a little drunk.
But would Caleb really shout like that?
The Caleb you remember from high school was a friendly, but aloof academic genius. Not only was he serious when doing course work, but even more so on the sports field; he paid no attention to any of the girls who offered him water bottles and love letters.
Later, the Caleb who became your husband was even more polite, his emotions so stable they were almost unwavering. He never smiled, never got angry. He was always detached, so detached that when you occasionally touched his fingers, even his body temperature was cold.
The camera pans across everyone's faces in the video. You see a slightly tipsy Caleb, his eyes sparkling, raising his glass and laughing loudly at the camera: "Welcome home, Pips!"
So, he could smile after all.
He could be passionate too.
He would call girls by their nicknames.
Just not you.
You close the app immediately, struggling to catch your breath. You open your email, and read the acceptance letter on your phone over and over again, at least a hundred times.
A graduate school offer from a foreign university, the thing you originally planned to discuss with him last night. You wanted to study abroad for a master's degree; was that okay?
But now it seems there is no need to discuss it with him.
Five years of marriage, countless sleepless nights.
You needed to get out.
If you didn't find something to do with your life now that MC is back, how would you pass the long hours? Would you spend your whole life waiting for Caleb to come home?
You had already waited for too long.
The pain of waiting... is unbearable now.
Today marks the countdown to you leaving him.
T - 29 days
Today your plans are a little different than the usual.
Your offer was likely part of the program's last round of admissions, so you wanted to confirm it as soon as possible. The first item on your agenda is to pay the confirmation fee to the school. You breathe a sigh of relief as your phone lights up with the notification from your bank card deduction.
In the evening, you change your clothes and prepare to go out.
Your housekeeper, Mrs. Chen, is surprised. "Madam, where are you going?"
Without Caleb's company, you seldom leave the house.
"Oh, friend of mine is performing at the theatre tonight and asked me to meet them," you say. Actually, you were going to stay in a hotel in the city. You have an interview tomorrow morning with an alumni of the program in the area. You were worried about traffic and not making it on time.
“But…” Mrs. Chen looks at your leg, “Shall I go with you?”
“No need, it’s a get-together with my girlfriends.” Your expression remains unchanged.
“Then I’ll inform the Colonel.” Mrs. Chen is uneasy, genuinely afraid something might happen to you, and didn’t want to take responsibility for whatever goes down.
“No need, don’t disturb him. I’ll call him after and have him pick me up.”
As you step out into the street, you instinctively lower your head and hunch your shoulders, hiding your face into the collar of your coat. Since injuring your leg, the confident and vibrant you on stage has disappeared.
Mrs. Chen always said that it was best if your husband goes out with you.
Caleb always said that you should stay home if he isn't with you.
Neither of them knew.
The only thing you were afraid of more than going out alone was going out with Caleb.
Because everyone who sees you looks at you with the same question: "How did someone like him marry a girl like that?"
T - 28 days
Your interview goes surprisingly smoothly. After slowly wandering around Linkon City alone for the first time in many years, you hail a taxi and head home. In the car, you silently gaze at the lights outside the window, when suddenly, you see Caleb's car parked on the side of the street.
"Wait, please stop for a moment," you quickly call to the driver.
Caleb's car is parked in front of a restaurant.
Yesterday before leaving for work, Caleb had casually mentioned that it was his turn to treat his friend group to dinner.
You get out of the car as if possessed.
Upon arriving, you tell the server at the front, "reservation under Mr. Xia," and give them the the last four digits of Caleb's phone number.
The waiter leads you to a private room. "Thank you," you say, hesitating in front of the door.
From outside, you can hear lively voices.
"I need to get home early today, I got home drunk last night and my wife was furious at me!"
"Come on~ Are we still tight? Who's the one that used to always toot "bros before hoes"? Now you're henpecked? Sounds like Caleb's the only real one left!" MC jokes, her voice cheery and light.
So this is the kind of person she was.
This is the kind of personality that Caleb likes.
Unfortunately, you are far from it; you couldn't even pretend to be if you tried.
Inside, Caleb's friend continues, "How can Caleb be the same as me? Y/N wouldn't dare raise her voice at him!"
"Hey, by the way," MC's soft voice rings out again, "Caleb, I heard your wife is disabled? Why?"
No one answers MC's question.
Your heart clenches.
Caleb's group of friends start talking amongst themselves.
"Seriously, Caleb, we feel sorry for you. Look at you, you have money, power, you're handsome, a real catch. What kind of woman couldn't you marry? Why did you have to marry a cripple?"
"Honestly, dude, you're the most outstanding among us. Now that you've married Y/N, whether you're at a meeting, a social event, a press conference, or any other occasion that requires a partner, you can't even take her out. Don't you think you're losing out?"
So that's how it is…
Caleb always said he didn't need you to get involved in his affairs; he was more than happy to provide for you. Everyone praised you for living a life of luxury, but as it turns out, it is simply because he doesn't think you are presentable enough.
A bitter laugh comes from Caleb. “She was so kind to me after all; I owe her.”
“You owe her? You've given her so much; you've paid it back ten-fold by now!”
“Exactly! You should have just given her a lump sum back then. Was it necessary to jeopardize the happiness of the rest of your life?”
“I'm telling you, you should really think about it. What can she do for you? She's useless at social events, and you'd even have to worry about her spilling water at home. "Caleb~ have some water" like this? Like this?"
A burst of laughter erupts from the room, mixed with MC's exaggerated gasp. "Caleb! Does your wife really walk like that?"
You feel all the blood rush to your head as the anger and humiliation tips you off balance. You force the door open and are immediately met with a roar of laughter.
T - 27 days
One of Caleb's friends, Gideon, carries a cup of water in both hands, walking with an exaggerated limp, and calling out in a high-pitched voice, "Caleb, Caleb, have some water, Caleb, ah—I fell down, Caleb, hug me—"
The mocking performance is a hit. MC, sitting next to Caleb, leans on his shoulder as she shakes from laughter.
You turn to look at your husband, hoping that the person you loved most would show some sort of reaction.
Caleb, however, remains completely silent.
Gideon turns around with a triumphant smile, "How does that sound, Cale-"
Before he could finish the question, he sees you standing in the doorway, and his smile freezing. "Y/N..."
Everyone looks towards the door.
They are stunned.
MC quickly removes herself from Caleb's shoulder, smiling as she reaches out her hand. "Ah! This must be Caleb's legendary wife! Please come in, I'm Caleb's childhood friend."
You look at everyone in the private room, heart turning cold.
Caleb finally stands up and walks towards you. "Y/N, what brings you here? They were just joking, don't take it to heart."
You stare at the man in front of you, feeling utterly unfamiliar with him, more unfamiliar than ever before.
He calls this joking? So he's actually siding with them?
"Yes, sister-in-law... sister-in-law! I'm sorry, I was just joking, don't be angry," Gideon apologized, putting down his cup.
Caleb walks up, intending to put his arm around you.
You suddenly remember MC laughing on his shoulder, his hands pleasuring himself in the bathroom, him calling out "Pipsqueak" as he came, and suddenly the thought of his hands on you is utterly filthy.
You dodge his arm. “Y/N,” Caleb looks at his empty hands in surprise and sighs. “I apologize on their behalf. Don’t be angry, okay? I’ll bring you something when we get back; whatever you want.”
MC glares at Gideon playfully. “Go on, apologize! You've made the Colonel's wife angry! Do you think everyone is like me, clumsy and clueless, letting you joke around like that?”
Gideon immediately gets defensive. “I already apologized! I didn’t know she'd suddenly appear out of thin air; I was just joking.”
“A joke is only a joke if the person it is about finds it funny.” You summon all your courage to spit out the words.
"Alright, that's enough," Caleb puts himself between you and Gideon.
"Y/N," Caleb's gaze is as calm as ever, "They mean no harm; they were just joking. For my sake, forgive them. Shall I have the driver take you home?"
"Sister-in-law..." MC pouts as she stands beside him, "If you're really angry, be angry with me. Don't ignore your husband. They only organized today's gathering because I came back... Caleb, why don't you ask your wife to stay for dinner? I'll offer her a toast as an apology."
"Sorry," you look at the two of them with a scorning smile. "I don't drink alcohol, especially not this tea-flavored liquor."
Caleb's expression turns serious. "Y/N, MC was trying to make it up to you, why are you so sharp-tongued?"
Make it up to you?
Only a fool would think so.
Is Caleb a fool?
No, he isn't. He is simply biased; whichever side his heart leans towards is right.
You look at the two people in front of you, and the several people behind them. They were all on the same side, while you are just an outsider who had intruded into their world. No, in fact, you've never truly entered their world; not even the periphery.
You struggle to hold back tears, letting out a soft "heh," before turning to leave.
Behind you, MC's voice calls worryingly, "Caleb, your wife!"
"It's alright, she's very understanding. I'll go comfort her when I go back." He sneaks a glance at your retreating figure and texts the driver to pick you up.
You wipe away your tears forcefully, gait getting more unsteady. Surely, they'll continue to laugh at you after you left, right?
You are crippled; you aren't good enough for Caleb Xia.
This realization had haunted you like a curse for the past five years.
By the time Caleb's driver arrives, you are no longer by the restaurant. Caleb frowned at the text from the chauffer. He calls you, but you didn't answer. He tries again, but your phone is switched off now.
His buddies speak up more. "Caleb, how did you manage to spoil such a girl? With your status and appearance? There's women willing to grovel at
feet! You're too good natured, letting your wife give you the cold shoulder."
Caleb doesn't say anything.
"Marrying her is already a huge blessing! Who else would want her if not you?"
MC quickly interjects at just the right second. "Gege, don't listen to everyone saying bad things about Y/N. They're just want the best for you. Don't take it to heart!"
"I'm not angry," Caleb puts away his phone. "It's alright, she won't go anywhere."
After all, for the past five years, you really haven't been anywhere except stay at home; you had nowhere to go.
T - 26 days
You don't go home.
You check back into the hotel you stayed at the previous day.
All the grievances and pain erupt the moment the hotel room door closes.
The image of Gideon limping, mocking you, kept flashing before your eyes, the laughter echoing in your ears like a curse.
Actually, you already know what Caleb's peers say about you in private, just never mentioned it to him before.
They were his ride-or-die colleagues, you understood.
He worked very hard for the safety of Linkon City; you understood.
Therefore, you didn't want to cause him any trouble or fallouts with his friends and coworkers
But now it seems that you were overthinking things.
How could he have a falling out with his friends because of you?
Those were his brothers since his DAA days!
And you?
Merely a debt he owed to himself as repayment for gratitude; a burden. Without you, his life would be happier.
"She's just a cripple! Who would want her if you didn't marry her?"
"What more could she ask for than marrying someone like Caleb?"
"If I were the Colonel, I'd rather be the one crippled by a car accident than marry someone like that."
Your heart and lungs ache terribly.
With trembling hands, you open a photo album on your phone you haven't dared touch in five years—a record of your training and performances during your undergraduate years.
Since you could no longer perform on stage, you sealed all your dance-related photos and videos here, password protected, and never opened them again.
Now, your trembling fingers randomly click on a video.
Perfectly in time with the music, you twirl, leap, and land lightly on your feet
Back then, you were radiant, graceful, and received thunderous applause…
So, was saving him a mistake?
Honestly, the moment you pushed Caleb out of the way, you never thought of marrying him.
He was the one who said he wanted to marry you and planned a grand proposal, knelt before you with a huge diamond ring, and gave you hope…
For the first time in five years, you collapse onto the bed and sob uncontrollably.
You cry for a long time
So long that no more tears flow from your eyes, leaving only pain in your chest, burning and licking like flames.
Yet the more it hurt, the clearer you became about your situation.
You go the bathroom and wash your face thoroughly to calm down.
Looking at your lifeless reflection in the mirror, you silently tell yourself, "Crying once is enough. Don't cry anymore. Now please take care of yourself for once."
T - 25 days
Perhaps because you didn't sleep a wink the night before out of nervousness for your interview, you actually sleep quite well today. You wake up on time and turn on your phone.
Countless messages flood in all from one person—Caleb.
Walking alone on the sidewalk, head down, you review the student visa application process until a pair of leather shoes appear in front of you. You didn't expect someone to deliberately block your path, and bump into them.
If the person didn't catch you, you definitely would've fallen.
Unfortunately, that person is the last one you wanted to see.
Caleb.
"Y/N!" You can tell he is angry, but trying his best to speak in a controlled manner.
“Y/N, why didn’t you come home?” He holds your shoulders, voice softening as gentle and tender as ever.
You should know why I’m not going home, you think, hurriedly stuffing the notes you took from your interview back into your bag, fastening it tightly.
“What’s this?” he asks, looking down at your bag.
“Nothing, just some paper.” You feign composure, fingers gripping the bag so tightly they turn white.
“Give it to me,” he offers.
No, you can't let him see them.
You clutch the strap tighter. "Do you need something?"
"Give me your phone," he demands.
You hesitate for a moment, then take your phone out and hand it to him.
The phone is off.
He glances at it only once before handing it back. "I called you so many times and sent you so many messages. Why didn't you reply? Are you still angry?"
You breathe a sigh of relief. He wasn't asking where you were the night before.
If it's only about that…
You stay silent for a moment, and decide you didn't want to be angry anymore.
You just want to get away.
Seeing your silence, Caleb assumes you're still angry and sighs. “Y/N, you're supposed to be the understanding one. Why didn't you come home?”
You swear you didn't want to get worked up about it anymore, but Caleb's words are somehow innocent yet cruel enough to break even a saint.
“So you still think what happened yesterday was my fault? Was I being unreasonable? Should I have praised Gideon for such an accurate depiction as soon as I went in?!” You couldn't take it anymore.
Caleb's face slightly twitches in embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant. What I meant was, you can’t control what others say, so just manage your own reaction and pay them no mind.”
“I can’t control it, but you can!” you shoot back. “But what were you doing then? You and your pipsqueak, hugging and all over each other.”
“Y/N!" His expression finally changes into something that resembles anger, more intense than anything you've seen.
You laugh inwardly.
The name “pipsqueak” is his Achilles’ heel, an untouchable minefield. You have nothing else to say.
You clutch your bag, planning to walk past him, but he reaches out and pulls you close by the waist.
“I’m sorry, it's my fault. I raised my voice just now,” he says softly. “I just didn’t want you to misunderstand MC. We’re just ordinary friends, like everyone else. I treat her like my sister. She’s not married yet. Don't talk about her like that.”
You don't understand. They were the ones acting like that, MC brushing up against him so brazenly; why is he so afraid to admit it?
"Oh," you reply monotonously.
“Y/N…” Caleb can sense the coldness in your voice. “Why are you still angry? I haven't even confronted you about going to a hotel by yourself without telling anyone, about not reply to any of my messages and calls.
Yes, it's all your fault. You're the unreasonable one here.
Earlier in your marriage, hearing this from Caleb would have been your worst nightmare. But now? You don't intend on striving to be good enough for him anymore.
T - 24 days
Caleb insists on taking you out to eat to "smooth things over".
“Caleb, I’m not hungry.” You don't touch your chopsticks. “I have something to tell you.”
“What?” He smiles slightly. “I’ll go with you wherever you want. I’m free all day.”
You stare at his almost imperceptible smile, thinking hard about what you can say to those dreamy, purple eyes.
"Caleb..." your throat closes up, betraying your resolve.
“Hmm? Y/N?” He takes your hand. “What’s wrong? Want to cry? If you want to cry, just cry. Don’t hold it in.”
His voice is so gentle, so incredibly gentle.
Just like back then, when you first emerged from the operating room, the nurses wheeled you back to the floor. He stood by your bedside, his voice so gentle it was almost painful, saying, "Y/N, does it hurt? If it hurts, cry it out, don't hold it in..."
Back then, you thought such gentle care was a good remedy for pain. Unfortunately, it took you many years to truly understand that a man's gentleness and care could never be transformed into love...
"Caleb, let's get a divorce," you say softly, pulling your hand away.
He frowns; clearly, he didn't expect you to say that.
After a brief silence, he picks up a piece of fish, and gently removes the bones with his chopsticks, putting it in your bowl. "Y/N, I know you're still angry, but bringing up divorce is irrational. What will you do if you divorce me? How will you live on your own?"
T - 23 days:
Your breathing quickens
In everyone's eyes, for the last five years, you've been Caleb's dependent; without him, you were a pitiful creature, unwanted and unable to survive.
He thought so too.
"I can do it!" For the first time, you speak up against him, wanting to stand up for yourself.
He just smiles, still assuming you are being stubborn, and places the deboned fish in front of you. "Eat. You're allowed to be angry for a while, but you can't be angry until after you finish eating."
"I'm not angry, I really want a divorce!" How can you make Caleb understand that you mentioning divorce isn't just an emotional outburst?
“Y/N.” he puts down his chopsticks, “I canceled two meetings and a practice flight today just to come and spend time with you. I might not have that much time tomorrow or the day after. Let me say it again, MC is a good friend. I treat her no differently than I treat Gideon and the others. She also likes you a lot and has always wanted to be your friend. With your attitude… how can I bring her to you?”
“Then there’s no need for us to get close.” You don't think MC actually wants to be friends with you.
“Y/N!” Caleb's voice carries a hint of warning.
You focus on eating instead. Even if you were angry, it's not worth taking your anger out on your own stomach.
"That's right," Caleb's tone softens again. "Don't mention the word 'divorce' again."
You pause, then continue eating with your head down.
The next day, you book a physical therapy appointment at AKSO Hospital.
T - 22 days
You need to get used to going out alone, so you decide to do some window shopping. Wandering aimlessly through Universum, you spot a familiar figure at a designer jewelry store — MC.
Looking at the store name, a feeling of unease settles over you as you unconsciously walk closer.
“Buy it if you like it!” comes her friend's voice.
“I can't do that, Tara!" MC exclaims, "It's too expensive. Even though Caleb gave me his card and told me to use it as I please, I feel awkward buying such an expensive item!”
Your steps falter, too heavy to take another step.
“Since he gave it to you, it’s for you to use. When has your brother ever used pleasantries with you He's probably over the moon that you're willing to spend his money.” Tara replies.
“That’s true…” MC twirls, showing Tara the necklace she tried on at different angles. You see it too.
“Isn’t it beautiful, Tara? I really, really love this necklace! I liked it back in high school, and Caleb promised to buy it for me after graduation, but..."
But?
You laugh bitterly at the irony.
But instead, Caleb gives you this necklace every year for your birthday and anniversary.
Originally, you had thought that even if Caleb was heartless, at least he remembered your birthday and your anniversary; even if the gift he chose wasn’t thoughtful, it would at least be expensive.
But it turns out he isn’t heartless, nor is he indifferent; on the contrary, he is incredibly thoughtful and devoted. It’s just that what he holds dear has nothing to do with you.
T - 21 days
You try to talk about the divorce with Caleb again, this time taking the initiative to meet him as he gets off work. You walk into the grand foyer of the Farspace Fleet HQ, preparing to text and let him know you're here, when you hear his voice.
"And that concludes your orientation tour."
You slowly turn to see Caleb, his adjutant, Liam, and MC walk out of the elevator. You wait until they make their way closer to the front door to approach the group.
"It's been a pleasure showing you around," Liam adds, saluting to MC, "I look forward to working with you, Mrs. Xia".
You nearly choke on your breath, face red and still sputtering as you appear in front of Caleb. Liam looks at you with confusion. "I'm sorry, and you are...?"
Caleb's face morphs from surprise to horror, and you see the message behind his furrowed brows and pleading eyes: "don't say anything"
You remember the sneers, the joking, the pity.
"I'm a good friend of the Colonel," you say. "In fact, we have a dinner appointment tonight."
Caleb nods vigorously in agreement, quickly dismissing Liam as you, Caleb, and MC walk towards the parking garage.
When you arrive at Caleb's car, MC doesn’t move, smiling sweetly.
“Okay, Gege, you guys go home. I’ll take a taxi myself. Y/N, I’ll return Mr. Xia back to you.”
Back to you? What does she mean, back to you?
When did you ever agree to lend your husband out?
She takes the opportunity to cling to your arm, shaking it sweetly. “Y/N, don’t be angry. Today’s misunderstanding wasn’t intentional. Liam just assumed things because Caleb has never personally brought a cadet around before. I didn't have time to explain the situation."
Her eyes subconsciously flick to your leg before she continues.
“You won’t be angry with us, right?”
“Us?” you sneer. “Who is this ‘us’? Who exactly is with whom?” You hate strangers getting close to you — especially her. You pull your arm away.
You swear you only pull back lightly. You don’t shove her. You absolutely do not push her.
Yet she falls to the ground.
“Y/N!!” Caleb shouts your name.
MC reacts faster than both of you. She scrambles up and blocks Caleb completely — pressing herself against him. “Caleb, don’t be angry. Don’t blame Y/N, I’m just careless. She just gently touched me and I lost balance myself. Gege, please don't get angry at your wife because of me, it’ll make me sad…”
Only Caleb believes this act.
Especially when she deliberately raises her wrist — the scraped skin clearly visible — right in front of him, the glint of the necklace she bought yesterday, the same as yours piercing your eyes.
Caleb sees the scrape. His brows knit together, eyes filled with obvious concern.
“Y/N! What’s wrong with you? Why are you so prejudiced against her?”
“Me? Prejudiced against her?” you laugh. “What prejudice could I possibly have? After all, she’s Mrs. Xia now.”
“You—” He is momentarily speechless before lowering his gaze to MC. “Does it hurt?”
“No…” she whimpers, yet she lifts her wrist closer to his chin.
He actually lowers his head and gently blows on it.
You have never seen him look at you like that.
“I’ll put some medicine on it later. We can’t let it scar.”
Not even after your car accident. Not when you lose your leg. Not when your body is covered in scars.
Back then, he gently asked you, “Does it hurt? If it does, cry.”
But that wasn't heartache.
It was guilt.
He never caressed your wounds. When faced with your scars, he escapes. He avoids. He refuses to look at them.
“It’s okay, I'm really alright!” MC’s voice grows even softer
“Y/N,” Caleb calls, looking up at you. “Aren’t you going to apologize?”
“Why should I apologize?” A sharp sting rushes into your eyes, blurring your vision. You can barely see his face anymore. “Because she calls herself my husband’s wife, I have to apologize?”
“Y/N! Why are being sarcastic? Didn’t she explain? Liam simply misunderstood. Why are you holding onto this?”
He is angry again.
He always is, whenever you speak up against her.
You smile and shake your head.
“No, Caleb. You’re wrong. I don’t want to hold onto this at all. I didn’t even expose you two on the spot. Whoever wants to be Mrs. Xia can take the position. I already told you I want a divorce. You should just agree. Then everything becomes perfectly legitimate.”
You don’t expose them because there’s no need. Since you are going to divorce him anyway, why add more trouble to your life? It isn’t worth it.
“Your temper is getting more and more outrageous!” he snaps. “There’s a limit to throwing tantrums! Apologize right now!”
“I won’t.” You turn to leave.
“Stop!” He rushes forward and grabs your wrist.
“Where are you going? You pushed her. Her arm is hurt. You're not leaving without saying sorry."
You stare at the hand gripping you.
Despair crashes over you like a tidal wave.
You look into his eyes and say, slowly, clearly, word by word:
“Yes. All I have to deal with is being a cripple for the rest of my life. But oh no, she scratched her arm”
A flash of sharp pain crosses his eyes.
He loosens his grip and steps back.
The moment you are free, you turn and run toward the elevator.
No matter how disheveled you look, you don’t care.
You absolutely cannot let him see the tears streaming down your face.
From the day you were injured, through your wedding and five years of marriage...
This is the first time you use your injured leg to hurt him.
Before, you were so careful about protecting his feelings. You were afraid he felt guilt and remorse, so you never mention the accident five years ago. Even when you had to endure gossip and cold stares, you swallowed everything alone.
But now, is he in pain too?
You can honestly understand to a certain degree.
He is doomed to carry the burden of you for the rest of his life, unable to shake himself free. How can he not be?
His true love is right beside him, yet because of your existence, he can't even be with her openly. How can he not be in pain when the urge to let go is pitted against the torment of his conscience?
So, Caleb, please let me go, okay?
T - 20 days
You return home alone and lay your ten jewelry boxes out in front of you. You stare at the necklaces for a long time, lost in thought.
For a moment, you want to smash each one against the wall.
But you don't.
Impulse solves nothing.
After calming down, you download a secondhand resale app and start looking for sellers who buy luxury goods. You quickly find one in the city and arrange to drop them off tomorrow.
Having dealt with this, you turn on your computer and begin focusing intently on your visa application.
You have less than three weeks until you escape your personal hell.
T - 19 days
You are so engrossed in your work that you don't even notice Caleb's return.You hurriedly close your laptop when you hear "What are you doing?" coming from the
doorway.
Caleb returns, maintaining his usual gentle demeanor, as if nothing happened. He walks to your side and asks in a soft voice, "Watching a show? Studying? What's got you so hooked that you're still up?"
He's trying to make conversation.
You press your hand tightly against the laptop; the VISA webpage is still open. "You wouldn't care for it"
"I don't even know what it is? Here, let me see. You asked me to tutor you back in high school." He reaches out to try to pry the screen up but you hold on tightly, refusing to let go.
He assumes you're still angry, so he stops trying to take it from you. Instead, he sighs and squats down, staring at your profile. "Still angry?"
"No." You're not lying. You've had many feelings: anxiety, disappointment, despair, but definitely not anger.
Anger meant that as long as he coaxed you, things would be fine; there was still hope for your marriage. But for you, any last drop hope had already evaporated. Five years… that was enough.
“Y/N, MC and I really have nothing going on. We're just close childhood friends. She came back from abroad, and we all got together to welcome her. The misunderstanding at work today was purely accidental. You have to believe me.”
His voice grows increasingly sweet. You look into his eyes, unable to see the passion behind the soft words.
Gentleness is like a program written into his body, running on autopilot.
“Caleb” you finally say, “Aren’t you tired?”
He's taken aback, seemingly not understanding what you mean.
You give him a bitter smile. "You have someone else in your heart, yet you still fuss over me every day. Aren't you tired?"
Caleb's eyes widen. "I don't..."
"Caleb, stop lying to yourself! I know some things don't sound so honorable when brought up; it'll make everyone look bad. But actually, divorce is better for both of us. Really. MC is more like the Mrs. Xia you envision yourself with-"
"Y/N!" Caleb interrupts you. "Are you still holding onto MC? I've told you so many times."
"Caleb, the one who can't get over MC isn't me." You stare at him straight in the eyes. "It's you."
He freezes again. "Y/N..."
"We both know it, isn't that right?" You try to appear calm. You can't have him think you're just "throwing a tantrum". "It's time to put an end to our five years together, Caleb. Let's say goodbye gracefully. Let bygones be bygones."
Caleb stares at you for a while, then stands up. "Y/N, you're overthinking it. You'll see later that MC's return won't change anything. It's late, get some rest."
"Caleb Xia! I know you feel guilty towards me, but not anymore. I really don't need a marriage based on guilt. Let me go, and let yourself go too, okay?"
Before you even finish your sentence, Caleb takes off his coat and heads into the bathroom.
You look at his coat lying on the small sofa. In the past, you would've hung it up for him, then found his pajamas and put them by the bathroom door.
But this time, you don't move.
For the past five years, you had always thought that your legs were weak and that you couldn't contribute anything to your family. In fact, Caleb managed everything perfectly, making you feel like a mere decoration, unable to help him in any way. Yet, you still tried your best to take care of him when you could.
Honestly? You might have overlooked the core: perhaps what Caleb needed wasn't your insignificant care, but a presentable Mrs. Xia, someone who could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him in front of the world.
So you truly don't understand what he's clinging onto, why he refuses to divorce you after all this…
Caleb comes out of the bathroom and goes straight to sleep, seemingly refusing to speak further.
You don't bring it up again. Forget it, every conversation is exhausting for you anyways. You're better off using that time to think about your future, strive towards what you have always wanted, and when you could leave. Whether or not the divorce is finalized by then won't matter.
You glance at Caleb beside you; he's already fast asleep.
In the dim light, you can only see a blurry profile of his face. The distance between the two of you seems endless.
Caleb, I've decided not to blame you anymore. I hope you have a happy life after I'm gone.
T - 18 days
You wake up feeling refreshed. As you finish getting ready and make your way down the stairs, you see the look of shock in the housekeeper's eyes.
You're wearing makeup today, and in your favorite dress.
For five years, you barely dressed up. Your leg, covered in scars, not only restricted your movement, but also your self worth and yearning for beauty. You didn't think you were worth dressing up.
“Very beautiful, Madam,” Mrs. Chen's admiring gaze doesn't lie. “Where are you going?”
“The theatre.” You shift your weight, a little nervous despite the excitement coursing through your veins. You even wore stockings so that the scars on your leg wouldn't be as visible. After settling your feelings, you decide to buy a ticket to see a ballet performance. The only thing you wanted to see at the moment, the only thing you knew would comfort you was dance.
You take a deep breath as you sink into the plush velvet seat in the dress circle. From your elevated view, you can almost feel the warmth of the stage lights and the buzz of adrenaline behind the colossal curtains, your heartbeat quickening as it gets closer to curtain call.
"Y/N?"
You nearly jump as you hear your name, looking wildly around to meet a pair of sea-blue eyes.
"R-rafayel?"
You squint as the name comes off your tongue slightly unfamiliarly. It's been nearly 10 years since you saw this old classmate of yours, but the tuft of dark purple hair gives him away. The two of you were never in same homeroom back in high school, but his name was very famous among the art students.
"It's been such a long time, how have you been?" He smiles and offers you a hand.
Your brain short circuits for a moment, not quite sure how to answer.
"My apologies," he quickly follows up his words. "I remember you were a performing arts student, and followed your career briefly after graduation. I know you stopped dancing and got married, married to the man that you saved."
You're even more stunned now. But before you have a chance to formulate a reply, the lights cut out, signifying the opening of the show.
Tonight's performance is by the Linkin City ballet, performing a classical piece that you've rehearsed countless times in the past.
As the orchestra strikes the first chord, the dancer deep within you is awakened.
Even though you're sitting in the audience with a real possibility you'll never be on stage again, your toes subconsciously tap lightly on the ground to the beat of the music—it's muscle memory etched into your body…
At the end of the performance, you can't help the tears spilling from your eyes. Sitting in the audience, listening to the thunderous applause, watching audience members go up one after another to present flowers to the dancers...
Not because of sadness, not because of pain, and certainly not because of despair.
But because of the dance itself, and the resonance you felt in your heart.
This was once your passion and your deepest love.
But you had forgotten it for five years.
You log onto your empty social media account for the first time in years, and simply post: Tonight belongs to my passion and my dearest love.
After the curtains fall for the final time, you turn to Rafayel, still gently clapping beside you.
"I've been unhappy since I quit dancing," you admit, gaze flickering at your bad leg. "But I've had enough of moping around and feeling sorry for myself." You wipe away any remaining moisture off your face. "Sorry, this just reminded me of how happy dancing made me feel. I'll be going abroad soon to get a masters."
You swear Rafayel's eyes light up slightly in the dim concert hall as he gives you a smile. "Y/N, Little Swallow, I believe you will soar high, even if your wings were once broken."
Back in high school, your nickname was Little Swallow, because you were best known for your somersaults and leaps; high and graceful.
Hearing the name again after so many years has your heart racing again, as if you are back in your youth, sweating profusely in the practice room.
A bundle is placed into your hands. You look down to see a bouquet of flowers, something Rafayel originally brought for one the dancers, probably.
Rafayel simply pats your head. "It's not shameful to have a leg injury, it's not shameful to have scars on your legs. What's shameful are those who laugh at you; they are the truly despicable ones! Kind people will only cheer you on." He turns away, but not before calling out, "Let's keep in touch! I'll be in the same city as your program for my next artist retreat. Let me know if I can help with anything." He emphasizes again, "Anything!"
You stand there, watching him disappear into the distance.
This is the first time someone has told you: your disability isn't shameful; what's shameful are those who mock you.
Words you've wanted to hear for nearly 2000 days, but never had spoken to you.
Tonight, it brings you a fresh wave of tears.
T - 17 days
You didn't think Caleb would be back after everything going on these days, but the sound of the door opening wakes you up from sleep.
Caleb stinks of alcohol when he enters the room.
He's been drinking again.
How much did he have to drink? He throws a chair against the door and collapses directly onto the bed.
You don't have anything to say to him anymore, whether it's to scold him to drink less or coax him to take a shower. You get up, intending to sleep in the guest room.
Just as you reach the door, Caleb's voice sounds behind you. "Where are you going?"
You don't answer.
The bed creaks behind you. Caleb gets slams the door in front of you closed and grabs your wrist. "Where are you going if you're not sleeping here?"
"I'm going to the guest room, let go of me."
You can't really argue with a drunkard. The more you struggle, the tighter he grips your hands.
"Stop fooling around, Y/N. What's the point? Since you've apologized, I'll make it up to you" his voice slurs.
You're dumbfounded??? What the hell is he referring to?
"When did I apologize?" You haven't even seen him, let alone apologize to him?
Caleb chuckles softly, mumbling, "Tonight belongs to my passion and my dearest? I'm back."
You scoff, wait, this guy actually thought you posted that for him?
“Y/N” He suddenly hugs you. “I know, I know you love me. You'd give everything for me, so no matter what happens, I will never betray you…”
You are stunned for a moment.
He's right.
You've loved him very, very much.
He had said these words at your wedding. At that time, you thought it wasn't a confession, but a promise.
He had given you a promise for a lifetime.
A lifetime is so long. Long enough that you thought one day he would fall in love with you properly. Even if he never loved you, it didn't matter; you thought your love for him would be enough…
“Caleb Xia.” You have something you want to ask him.
“Hmm?” His warm breath brushes against your ear, spreading out, carrying the scent of alcohol.
"But your Pipsqueak is back! What will happen to Pips if you're with me?"
"Pipsqueak? Pipsqueak..." He murmured the name, suddenly choking back tears. "Pipsqueak, I won't forget. I promised you, I won't forget..."
You feel as if you just got dunked in ice water.
Is he so drunk that he's mistaking you for MC?
"What promise? What did you promise Pipsqueak?" you ask numbly.
"Everything... Everything, Pips..." His arms tighten around you.
You gasp as he suddenly lifts you up and pushes you down on the bed, his breath, heavy with the smell of alcohol, glosses over your face, nose, and chin...
He tries to find your lips, but you avoid them.
The smell of alcohol makes you nauseous.
When his hands begin to tear at your pajamas, you immediately turn away.
"Pips, be good, okay? Stop making a fuss..."
Still calling you Pipsqueak...
You struggle fiercely, finally freeing a hand and slapping him hard across the face. A crisp sound rings out in the bedroom
"Caleb! Look carefully at who I am! I'm not your Pipsqueak!" you shout in the darkness, your voice hoarse.
His body stiffens briefly. Taking advantage of the moment, you forcefully wriggle out of his grasp.
He lies on the bed, still drunk, murmuring, "Pips, I'm sorry, I have to go home. I promised her I'd take care of her for the rest of my life... I owe her..."
You cover your ears. Those words have haunted you like a curse for five years; now, whenever they echo in your mind, your head buzzes as if filled with static.
You scream at the figure beside you, "I don't want you to owe me anything! Caleb Xia! Do you hear me!? I don't want you to owe me anything! I just want you to set me free!"
Caleb's phone vibrates at that moment.
You turn your head to see the name of the person calling: "Baby Apple."
Ha, Baby Apple…
In Caleb's phone, your contact is "Y/N"
When you were newlyweds, you had fantasized about the day Caleb would call you "sweetie," "darling," or any other nickname that was exclusively yours, or even just "Wife."
But no, whether in everyday conversations or in his contacts, it was always just "Y/N".
To reassure yourself, you convinced yourself that this was just his personality—not clingy, straightforward, and with a strong personality.
You were wrong.
The words "Baby Apple" on the screen are particularly glaring. You're torn between picking up or letting it ring, but you click on the green receiver anyway.
A soft, delicate voice makes your hand tremble.
"Gege, are you home yet? Are you alright?" MC sounds drunk too, her voice slurred and incoherent. Ignoring the silence on your end, she continues. "I know it's hard for you... I also... know that Y/N has sacrificed a lot for you... You don't need to feel guilty towards me... I... we're fine like this now... I don't care whether I'm your wife or not... I just... just glad that you remember me and treat me the same as before... let's stay like this Caleb... She can live in your house, and I can live in your heart, I'm content..."
The phone finally slips and fell to the ground.
She lives in your house, I live in your heart.
You stagger out of the room and go to the guest room.
You collapse on the bed, trying to squeeze all the sounds out of your head.
You never want to think about this again.
T - 16 days
When you wake up, it's Caleb's voice that you hear. He's talking to Mrs. Chen.
"Where did these flowers come from?"
"Madam brought them back last night."
"Madam went out last night?"
"Yes."
"Alone? Where did she go?" Caleb's voice rises noticeably.
"She said she went to see a performance."
"A performance? Who sent the flowers?" He seemed unconvinced.
"I don't know."
"What performance? Where did she see it? What time was it?"
Mrs. Chen hesitates. "Sir, I really don't know."
The guest room door is pushed open.
You immediately pretend to be asleep.
"Y/N, I know you're awake; your hand just moved."
You open your eyes, internally sighing.
"Who did you go to see the performance with yesterday?"
Why is he so fixated on this question?
You don't answer him, simply pulling the covers over your head and turn your back to face him.
“Y/N,” He sits down, “Be good, okay?” He reaches out to dig you out from under the comforter.
You remember him pinning you down on the bed last night, calling MC's name and telling her to be good. You feel utterly disgusted and forcefully slap his hand away.
He gives up, then suddenly changes the subject, "Y/N, what was the "passions and loves" you mentioned last night?"
"It wasn't you!" you huff.
His face stiffens for a moment, but it quickly turns into a knowing look. "Alright, stop being stubborn. I know you're still sulking and jealous. Didn't I come back as soon as I saw you post that yesterday?"
He seriously still thinks you're just throwing a tantrum when you said "not you"?
You poke your head out from under the covers. "I told you..."
Seeing you finally come out, his expression softens as he takes the opportunity to stroke your hair. "That's good. I'll be back tonight, but you don't have to wait for me. Just go to sleep if you're tired."
Without waiting for you to say anything more, he turns and leaves.
You don't care whether or not he comes home.
Actually, this scene is exactly the same as before.
Before MC appeared, he was always like this, speaking to you gently, telling you to go to sleep early, and stroking your hair.
You've never argued, not even once.
But so what? What does a marriage without arguments even mean?
If you were to describe Caleb Xia with a single word, it would be "good."
However, you know the truth painfully clearly: all the good things Caleb does don't stem from his love for you, but rather an act of atonement.
The words "never to dance again" were a devastating blow to both you and him back then.
You still remember Caleb's reaction upon hearing those words; after the initial shock, he seemed utterly ripped from his soul.
From that moment on, the vibrant Caleb died.
You were both simultaneously bound by the shackles of "forever"— you forever lost the stage, and he forever atoned for his sins.
"I owe her" these three words became the unbearable weight of his life.
From that moment forward, there was no more Caleb Xia; what lived was only your husband—a walking robot, devoid of warmth and emotion. A stagnant pool, mechanically fulfilling the duties of a husband, a partner.
But now he's alive again…
MC returned, bringing light back into his life.
He's started smiling again, his eyes sparkling with light and fire.
You sigh heavily. Even after all this, why wouldn't he let you go, and let himself go too?
T - 15 days
You step out of the taxi, heart pounding as you approach tall glass doors. After watching the ballet piece, you are once again filled with determination and decided to sign up for a beginners dance class. You've been going to your physical therapy sessions dutifully, hoping one day, with enough hard work and practice, you'll be able to stand on stage again. You smile at the wide range of participants already there. They greet you warmly, introducing themselves one by one before the instructor walks in.
As the class begins, you practice some very simple basics - posture, form, and stances. However, due to your injury, you quickly run out of stamina and spend a good portion of the class on the floor to rest inbetween. You're wiping the sweat off your brow with a towel and bidding goodbye to some new friends as a familiar voice calls from outside the studio door.
"Y/N!"
It's Rafayel?!
"What are you doing here?" you ask, suddenly feeling a wave of embarrassment as you're stuck wondering how much of your clumsy work he had just seen.
"The performing arts center commissioned a piece from me. It's going to be hanging on the top floor, so I came today to take a look at the atmosphere around here," he supplies, giving you a bright smile.
"Nice," you feebly offer.
Rafayel breaks the silence with a soft sigh, "Y/N, I can see the start of a rebirth."
You know what he's referring to, you starting to pick up dancing again. But can you really call what you're doing right now dancing? You could barely stand up straight.
"Don't be like that! You haven't practiced for five years, and you did really well today! I have a photo if you don't believe me." Rafayel takes out his phone, smoothly passing it to you to enter your number. It turns out he had recorded the last part of your dance lesson today.
"Ah, my phone died" you say, rummaging through your dance bag.
Rafayel shrugs and presses "send" anyways. "Here, let's go grab something to eat and you can watch yourself on mine.
The two of you head to a cafe, sitting outside on the patio as you make conversation over coffee and sandwiches. Rafayel shows you the video as you furrow your brows at your posture. You sigh dejectedly. Who would've imagined that the girl once known as "Little Swallow" would struggle like that?
While Rafayel's words of encouragement still doesn't allow you to forgive yourself for falling so far behind, you agree with his sentiment: you were going to grow new wings and explore higher skies.
It was at this moment that Caleb drives by, catching a glimpse of your smile brighter than the sunset, sitting next to Rafayel, your heads slightly leaned in together as you watch something on his phone.
T - 14 days
You feel a strange sense of oppression slowly growing behind you. You look up to see Caleb standing behind you, face partially covered by shadow.
His complexion is stormy; he looks exhausted, and his hair is somewhat disheveled. As he approaches you, the setting sun behind him seems to ignite, mirroring the flames in his eyes.
“I called you all day, and your phone was off?” He is clearly suppressing his anger.
You don't know where this anger came from. Isn't he very busy? He usually never calls you anyways; why would he be offended that your phone died? Afterall, you weren't even angry when he went to take care of MC, what right did he have to dictate how you spend your time?
“Oh, I didn't expect you to call,” you say calmly, stirring your drink.
"Didn't expect me to call?" Caleb glances at Rafayel sitting beside you, gritting his teeth. "I'm your husband. If I don't call you, who will?"
You shake your head, pulling yourself up using the armrest. "Who knows? I could have an ex-boyfriend," you say sarcastically.
His expression changes, and he frown deeply. "Y/N."
Rafayel simply smiles, and turns to address Caleb. "Colonel Xia," he greets him. "Have you ever watched your wife dance?
Caleb freezes. Despite being the High Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, trained in all kinds of interrogation and logic, he could not decipher the meaning behind those words.
Rafayel chuckles and bids the two of you goodbye, Caleb's gaze burning into the back of his silhouette.
"Y/N, I've underestimated you this whole time," Caleb says as you get into his car. "You're quite something." His voice carries a threat and suppressed anger.
Your mind flashes to the stench of perfume on his shirt, and scoff, "Not as good as you."
"Since when did you get in contact with him again? What does he do? I don't want to waste time finding that out myself." His hands rest on the steering wheel, his fingers long and slender. On his left ring finger is a new ring.
His wedding band has been off since the night of your wedding ceremony. What's he wearing now?
You smile faintly and hold out your hand.
On your ring finger is a jade ring, small enough for everyday wear.
You were the one to pick out your wedding rings. You wanted a small, non-flashy stone because you wanted to wear it everyday, forever. It was a custom pair; his was also jade.
The one on his hand is pure silver band.
Caleb watches your movements and subconsciously pulls his left hand back.
You place your hand on the dashboard. "Colonel, can you please explain when your ring changed color?"
T - 13 days
Caleb freezes for a fraction of a second, before muttering, "it's a formality, it's not that serious."
You nearly laugh out loud. Of course, what can be more serious than marriage?
Perhaps your observation ignited the tiniest shred of shame in him, for his tone softens considerably, his previous accusatory attitude gone. "I'm asking you this for your own good, Y/N. There won't be another man in this world who treats you like I do. Of course, I'm not perfect; I have my flaws. But I'm sincere, trusting, and unguarded with you. Your name is on all of my assets. It's hard to say what other people's intentions are."
You are immediately reminded of MC's words: She's in your house, but I'm in your heart.
You put on your earbuds, hoping to drown out whatever other demeaning things he has to say.
Seeing this, Caleb hesitates, then drives off.
He drops you off at home, saying, "I have more work to do at the office, don't wait up for me," before leaving again.
You stare at the door blankly. You forgot how you used to care so much about those things.
Slowly, you take the wedding ring off your finger. Since it obviously doesn't have any true sentimental value anymore, you might as well sell it for cash.
Actually, if you were going to sell it, might as well sell it as a pair!
You look high and low around the house, but can't find the other one.
Suddenly, you remember that Caleb keeps a safe at home, something you've never thought to open.
An idea strikes you.
You don't know the safe's combination.
You try Caleb's birthday, but it didn't budge. You don't even bother to try yours.
You think a little harder, hesitantly putting in the security code for the front door and garage.
It opens!
Inside are a stack of legal documents, property papers, and various other things that must be very important. You easily find the jewelry box with the same brand as your wedding ring, but there is another one in the very back, placed on top of a notebook.
You open the latter and see the another silver ring matching the one on Caleb's finger, along with a necklace with a small apple charm.
Your hand rests on top of the notebook, mind teetering between looking and not looking.
Ultimately, your self control wins, but as you move to put it back, a photograph slides out, falling to the floor.
It's a photo of Caleb and MC from their high school days.
Honestly, it doesn't mean much. You knew for a long time that Caleb had feelings for someone else before. But since you married him, at least when you married him, you told yourself you didn't care about his past.
You sigh, picking up the photo, and put it back in the notebook.
Fuck it, trying to protect your already shattered heart is pointless now. You open it to a random page, planning to just stuff the photo back in, but you freeze as your eyes land on the writing: 100 Little things about Pipsqueak.
The first thing listed is: Pips' birthday is May 1st.
Your hand slips, and the notebook falls to the ground.
The code to your house is 20501
The combination to this safe is 0501.
The air in the room seems to thin. You press your palm to your chest, gasping for breath.
The second line reads: "I finally bought myself a house. It's in the style that MC likes. The password is her birthday."
So, for the last five years, you've been living in the house meant for Caleb and MC...
T - 12 days
You bring the pair of rings to the antique watch shop, having scheduled a time with the owner. The owner is delighted, having previously bought the 10 necklaces you chose to part ways with as well. He ushers you to sit down in the private room behind the counter and pours you a cup of tea.
You excuse yourself to use the restroom, hearing the door open as more customers enter the store.
The voices are familiar.
Shit.
Looking behind you, you see MC's appear, with Caleb in tow.
You really manage to run into her everywhere, huh?
It's midday, right when Caleb usually has meetings. He sure has lots of free time now.
You go do your business, ducking behind the curtains as you return to avoid being noticed.
"Caleb, look! This store has so many of these necklaces! They're limited edition zodiac ones!" MC points to something in the display case. If you aren't mistaken, it's definitely one of the pieces you sold.
The old man takes it out. "You have a good eye, young lady. The necklaces were acquired recently. They only make a limited amount every year. These ones are no longer being sold."
Caleb looks closely and frowns. "Are they really that rare?"
"Yes, this limited collection began exactly 12 years ago, a zodiac edition with this year being the last edition. It's much more expensive than the regular model. I think I've got the only ten that exists in Linkon," the owner explains with a smile.
"No way..." MC exclaims, "can you prove their authenticity if they're really that valuable?"
"Of course! I've got the certificates as well as the invoices for each."
"These ten necklaces, did you receive them all at once?" Caleb, who has been mostly silent, suddenly asks.
"Yes," the owner nods with a smile, "from the same customer."
Caleb's eyes sharpen. "Show me the invoice."
The owner takes out the invoices and hands them to Caleb.
He stares at them harshly, suddenly letting out a cold laugh.
"Sir...?" The old man is taken aback, unsure what the issue was.
"It has nothing to do with you, just give me all of them." Caleb says gruffly.
Even MC sensed something was wrong and softly asks, "Gege?"
The owner notices you waiting for him. "You're back? Everything alright?"
Caleb and MC looks your way as well, seeing your figure in the back.
You're not sure if it's just your imagination, but Caleb's eyes almost seem to be filled with anger.
"Can you sit down for a moment? I'll show them the necklaces first, and then I'll look at your ring."
"What ring?" Caleb's voice is dangerously low, was full of suspicion upon hearing this.
His gaze falls to the pair of jade rings behind the display case.
"These two?" He taps the glass of the display case with his finger, his tone getting even more oppressive.
The owner clearly has no idea what is going on, why his customer was asking this, or how to answer. These were items provided by someone else; why is he asking about them?
You don't intend to put him in an awkward situation, so you answer Caleb directly. "Yes, these two."
Caleb's gaze is burning. "Mrs. Xia, you're really something."
It wasn't a compliment, but you reply calmly, "Thank you, you flatter me."
"Get over here!" he suddenly roars.
You sit down, picking up your cup of tea.
He walks over to you instead, looming in front of you.
Perhaps out of consideration for the outside world, he tries to suppress his anger, his voice full of sarcasm, "I never thought I'd experience firsthand what it means by 'it's hard to guard against a thief from within the family'. One day, I wouldn't even know if my entire house was robbed."
You ignore him.
"Are you short of money? Is the money I give you not enough?" he hisses.
"No, not at all," you say, "I've been decluttering lately, getting rid of anything useless."
"Useless?" He's furious, pointing to the rings in the display case, "You're saying wedding rings are useless?"
You look at him calmly, "Otherwise? If you say they're useful, have you ever worn it for a even day since the weeding ceremony?"
Caleb is speechless, indignant. "One day, you'll sell me off without me even knowing!" "
You laugh and turn to at MC. "Do you want this? I'm selling one Caleb Xia, secondhand! I'll even give you a discount, I promise the price is favorable."
MC is stunned.
Caleb however, clearly doesn't find this funny. He turns to MC and says, "Pipsqueak, you head back first."
She's unwilling, protesting, "but Gege!"
"We'll talk about the necklace later, you go back first!" His expression is serious. MC knew when not to push his buttons. He's in a bad mood, and she didn't dare to provoke him. Lips trembling, she says gently, "Alright Gege, I'll go back first. But don't be too angry. Y/N must have her reasons, please don't scold her."
You roll your eyes.
As soon as MC leaves, Caleb immediately presses you. "What exactly are you doing? Tell me!"
"I told you," you say calmly, "I'm decluttering things I don't want anymore."
You pause, then continue. "Including you, Colonel Xia."
"Are you serious?" His face is very unpleasant.
"Yes." You were never anything but serious about this.
"Y/N! I think you've been provoking me too much lately!" His eyes flash with anger.
You personally think that his temper has been a bit too volatile lately; the usually stable and gentle Colonel was gone, and MC was largely to blame.
He calls the owner over, harshly putting his black card on the table.
"I'll take all of them."
The owner wraps everything up, afraid of knowing too much about the uncomfortable relationship between the three of you.
Get in the car!" he demands, dragging you out by your wrist.
“It looks like I misjudged you,” he says once he starts driving. “I always thought you were a sensible and understanding, person, but now it seems you're getting too full of yourself. Look at Pips…”
“I don’t want to see her, ok? You can go spend your time with her if she's that great.”
You put on your headphones for real this time. You're in no mood to hear about how wonderful MC is to him.
He drops you off at the entrance of the neighborhood and tells you to get out. “I have a meeting later-”
You get out and slam the door shut. You don't give a fuck about what he's doing tonight.
T - 11 days
At 11pm, you hear Caleb enter the front door.
You shut down your laptop and turn to scroll lazily on your phone, overhearing him greet Mrs. Chen.
"I told you to cook it according to my wife's taste, why did you make it spicy?"
"Madam said...spicy." Aunt Chen's voice was tinged with panic.
"And she didn't eat a single bite?"
"Yes..."
"Get me a bowl of rice."
A few minutes later, Caleb enters the bedroom. His tie is loose, the top button of his shirt undone, the sleeves rolled up to his wrists.
"Aren't you going to come out and have dinner with me?" he asks, the anger from earlier seemingly gone.
For the last few years, he's always come home pretty late, rarely for dinner, but made sure to eat when he came home. You cherished those moments, bustling around him, serving up his food and keeping him company for the little time before going to sleep.
What good was your attentiveness in the end? Who knows, perhaps it only served to annoy him?
“What did you eat tonight? From now on, you don’t need to cook according to my taste. Tell Mrs. Chen to make what you like,” he says.
You roll your eyes. He really thinks you're still trying to gain his favor.
He pulls up a chair and sits down on the edge of the bed. “Y/N,”
What is it now?
He takes a deep breath. “MC really liked that ring. Since you sold it anyway, I gave it to her. I just transferred you some money. Take it and buy something you like.
Of course.
So that’s what it's about. No wonder he's suddenly being so friendly with you.
You have your back to him and simply say, "Oh," then add, "Okay."
T - 11 days until leaving Caleb Xia: He gave our wedding rings to someone else too. But I don't even want him anymore, so why should I care about the ring?
"So well-behaved today?" His voice softens. "I wanted to buy something for you, but you obviously don't like what I buy."
"Hmm."
"What's wrong? You're asleep already?" He frowns. "Are you feeling unwell? Let me see."
He leans over, wanting to see your face. "Don't tell me you're secretly crying?"
In his dreams!
You give no reaction.
After tucking you in tighter, he looks at your quiet form, hesitates, and finally says, “Y/N, I'm going on a mission tomorrow.”
A mission!
You immediately open our eyes. This means you can go in person to meet with a lawyer and get your interviews and forms stamped without him knowing!
You sit up, eyes shining brightly. “How many days are you going?”
“Three or four days, possibly up to a week.” He frowns, thinking your reaction is a bit over the top. What does this mean? You were letting him go?
“No, it’s okay. Who are you going with?” you follow up haphazardly, heart pounding with joy.
His expression grows increasingly hesitant. "Gideon." He pauses, then adds, "Maybe MC too."
"Oh." You lie back down. "Sounds good, tell me before you come back, I'll have Mrs. Chen prepare good food."
He looks at you incredulously. "You're not angry?"
You shake your head. "Go to sleep early, you have a business trip tomorrow, you need to get some rest."
"Y/N, trust me, a lot more of us will be going together..." He moves closer to you, but you push him away.
"Go take a shower, I've already showered, don't get too close to me."
He frowns. "What do you mean? You think I'm dirty?"
Well, he does reek of MC's perfume.
The next day, you're still groggy when Caleb gets up.
You had expected him to pack his things and go without leaving you with any words, but unexpectedly, he insists on waking you.
"Ugh, sleepy!" You smack his hand away.
"Mrs. Xia," he drawls, standing by the bed. "Your performance is falling. You don't feed me, give me mooncakes anymore, or ask me about my day, and now I'm leaving for a mission and you won't even help me pack my luggage?"
It's true. If this was before, you'd be fretting all over him, his luggage already prepared the night before.
You roll your eyes. Fine, you'll pack for him then!
You go into the walk-in closet, and start placing folded clothes and personal belongings neatly into his suitcase. Before you close the zipper, you head over to the bedside drawer, take out a box of condoms, and was about to throw it into the suitcase as well.
Your arm is grabbed roughly.
"Where did this come from?" Caleb demands, eyes darkening.
To be honest, you originally prepared it for your honeymoon though you never ended up using it. It's probably expired by now, but you thought it would be funny.
You smile. “I prepared this especially for you. Tell me, aren't I a wonderful Mrs. Xia?”
“You…” Caleb picks up the box and throws it forcefully into the trash can, “That'll be unnecessary! Even if I had a child, I could afford to raise it. Besides, I don’t plan on having one anytime soon!”
He zips up the suitcase, locks it, and leaves with a huff.
T - 10 days
You head to physical therapy again. While sitting in the waiting area for your appointment, your phone suddenly goes off. Your surprise turns into annoyance as you see the caller ID: Husband. Fortunately, there's not many people beside you. After picking up the call, you quietly say, "Hello".
"Why are you speaking so softly? What are you doing?" Caleb asks on the other end.
"I'm at the doctor's, it's not good to talk loudly." You quickly take out earbuds, further lowering your voice to a whisper. "Why am I getting so many calls these days?"
It's really annoying.
He seems even more offended on the other end, "Your own husband can't call you? Are you annoyed at me?"
More than annoyed!
You roll your eyes "No, not really, it's just quite unsettling. What's wrong?"
"Mrs. Xia!" He scoffs on the other end, "Can't I call you if there's nothing wrong?" "
You're speechless for a second.
This person is getting more and more irrational.
"What instructions does the Colonel have for me?" you roll your eyes, not believing him.
"You're kidding me!" His tone softens a bit, "I'm transferring flights, it's not boarding time yet, just wanted to see if you're up."
So he really is bored!
"Don't you have anything to say to me?"
You pop a grape into your mouth, mumbling an "oh".
"Y/N!"
??? Why does it sound like he's about to get angry?
"What are you eating that's more important than your husband's safety?"
You finally swallow the grape, "You... you've been attacked?"
A long sigh comes from the phone, "Never mind, you eat, just hearing your voice is enough, I'm about to board too." The call ended abruptly.
You look at your phone, listening to the dial tone, feeling utterly bewildered.
On the other end, MC glances at him several times. "Gege," she calls.
"Hmm? Let's go get ready to board."
"You seem to miss Y/N a lot. You've made so many calls since we left" she says tentatively.
Caleb doesn't notice her gaze, only frowning slightly. "Hmm, I don't know why, but I feel uneasy about this trip. I have a feeling something's going to happen."
"You...are you worried something might happen to Y/N? Then ask Liam or someone to go check on her."
Caleb sighs. "Y/N doesn't know Liam that well. I don't think she'd appreciate it anyway."
"Then what should we do?" MC asks worriedly. "Should I not have asked to come on this mission with you?"
Caleb glances down at her and smiles. "It's okay. I called her already. Hearing her voice is enough to put my mind at ease."
"Caleb, you actually...love Y/N very much, don't you?" MC asks with a smile, but a darker current ripples under her eyes.
He pauses. "Y/N can't live without me. She's my responsibility, so Pips..."
"I understand, Gege." MC smiles, interrupting his words gently and sweetly. "Don't forget, I'm the person who understands you best in the world."
T - 9 days
It's a peaceful few days without having to see Caleb. Instead of the anxiety that once filled you every time he went away, you feel calm. As you begin packing your things, you get an invitation from one of your old dance buddies. Mina is visiting home on her trip back from abroad, now a professional dancer on Broadway. You eagerly agree to meet with her, catching up over lunch as the two of you reminisce over the good old times. She's initially a little hesitant to show you photos of herself on stage, worried it'd make you sad, but you quickly reassure her that was not to worry about. Later, as she helps you down the steps of the restaurant, you ask what her plans are for the rest of the day.
"Oh! Umm, I'm actually getting dinner with a larger group of our old classmates..." She looks at you with a flicker of hope in her eyes. "If you don't mind... would you like to join us?"
"Of course!" You say with a smile. "I haven't seen everyone in so long. Do any of them know what happened with me?"
You're referring to your leg.
"That's where I need to apologize," Mina looks guilty. "I told them you injured your leg without asking your permission first... but nothing else!"
You understand. Your classmates, whom you haven't seen in a long time, would definitely ask how you were doing. Your leg injury was a fact, and you don't plan on hiding it forever.
"It's okay, really!" You're done feeling sorry for yourself. Your goal is to step out of the world Caleb had created for you, and in doing that, you will inevitably face all sorts of stares and judgement.
"Then I'll reply to them!" Mina says happily.
"Let's go! They said they're heading out soon". The meet-up location is nearby. By the time you and Mina get there, some of your classmates have already arrived. The enthusiasm they show you exceed your expectations. They mention your leg, even gathering around to examine it, but without malice, as if your leg wasn't anything serious, like a minor inconvenience like a cold. You liked this atmosphere; it's much better than deliberately trying to protect your pride. Everyone is treating you as a normal person, just with a leg injury.
It's a pleasant evening. The group sings old songs from high school on the karaoke. After three or four hours, you all get tired and sit down to chat, reminiscing about the past and having some drinks to liven things up. Even you, encouraged by everyone, drink quite a bit.
Among your classmates, some have had good times, others have experienced setbacks. Talking about the past, people begin talking about regrets.
Someone says, "If I had known this would happen, I would have studied harder in high school and not skipped so many classes."
Another adds, "If I had known he also liked me, I definitely wouldn't have been a coward on graduation day; I would have confessed to him. I've missed my chance all these years."
A good amount of sentimentality is triggered by the alcohol, and for a moment, everyone's eyes are filled with tears. From your teenage years to approaching thirty, everyone has had some regrets.
"Y/N, what about you? If you could do it all over again, what would you do?" someone asks you.
You hold a glass of wine in your hands, ruminating in thought.
The image of osmanthus blossoms from that Mid-Autumn Festival many years ago flashes before your eyes, twinkling like stars.
You smile faintly, "If I could do it all over again..."
Caleb pushes open the door to the private room.
"If I could do it all over again, I want to eat all the mooncakes from that Mid-Autumn Festival in our second year of high school by myself! I'm not sharing it with anyone!"
Was it the alcohol? The bitterness in your heart is amplified. You take a deep breath and look up, only to see someone standing in the doorway under the flickering lights.
Caleb.
Your classmates don't quite understand what you're referring to, and assume it is some old pastry shop that has closed, the mooncakes never to be tasted again. You can't see it, but Caleb's fists clench at his side, knuckles turning white.
"Hey, Caleb!"
Finally, someone notices him come in.
You're a little dizzy, seeing two Calebs approach you.
"Caleb Xia! You're so late, shouldn't you take three shots as punishment?" A classmate named Xavier places three glasses down in front of him. “Sorry, I'll have to decline.” Caleb puts his arm around you, looking down at your tipsy form. “I’m here to pick up my wife. I have to drive later.”
“Call a cab!”
Caleb gives a polite smile. “That won’t do. If I drink too much, who will take care of her?”
You are a little drunk, but still conscious enough to hear him and what's going on. Under the influence of alcohol though, your actions are more unrestrained. Your first instinct is to push Caleb aside, muttering, “I don’t need you to take care of me. Go away.”
“Y/N, you’re really drunk. Let’s go home.” Caleb tries to pick you up.
“No! I don’t want to go home…” You struggle in his arms.
“Do you hear that? Y/N isn’t going home!” Xavier pushes Caleb's shoulder, forcing him back down.
Mina senses something is off. Xavier had quite a bit to drink today and was probably drunk by now. Worried about the boys starting trouble, she quickly tries to break it up. "Alright, it's getting late. We've had our fun, let's start packing up."
"No way!" Xavier doesn't back down, gripping Caleb's shoulder tightly. "You're not leaving until you finish this drink!"
Caleb, as the Farspace Fleet Colonel, is incredibly perceptive. His expression darkens. "Xavier Shen, I'll let it slide since you've had too much to drink, but you'd better watch yourself!"
"Watch myself?" The rage in Xavier's eyes are now impossible to conceal. "Caleb Xia, I'm telling you, watch yourself!"
Xavier moves to grab his collar, but not before having his wrists clamped forcefully by Caleb. "Xavier Shen! Did you come here to cause trouble?"
"Yes!" He shouts, "I came here to cause trouble! Caleb, what the hell did you do to Y/N? What exactly did you do to her!?" He roars, his eyes bloodshot.
Caleb's eyes sharpen, his hand still gripping his wrists, veins bulging on the back. "Listen here, Shen. My wife eats well, sleeps well, lives in a mansion, and I pamper her like a princess. Who are you to concern yourself with our marital affairs?"
"Is that so?" An incredulous laugh follows. Xavier didn't believe Caleb at all, both men rising from the sofa. "Then tell me, how did Y/N become like this? What happened to her leg? She's a dancer! When she dances on stage, she's as graceful as a swan. What did you do to her? Take good care of her? Why then did she become like this after getting married? Five years, and you've been covering it up, saying she doesn't want to come out and socialize! You're lying! Do you beat her at home!?"
"My wife and I are doing just fine! Why her foot is like this is her privacy, there's no need for me to explain it to you, Xavier! Don't forget your place in front of me, and don't you dare try to play any tricks on my wife!" Caleb yanks harshly, pushing the other man away so hard the buttons on his collar pop off.
Already quite drunk, Xavier loses his balance, staggers a couple of steps, and falls onto the coffee table, knocking over a bunch of bottles and plates.
"Caleb, I've wanted to beat you up for ages!" He scrambles up and lunges at him.
Fearing trouble, rest of your classmates rush forward to restrain him. "Caleb! Take Y/N and leave! He's drunk, and you haven't been drinking - calm down Xavier! Don't cause any more trouble!"
Caleb tugs at his collar, giving Xavier one last cold look, then puts his arm around your waist and lifts you up. "Let's go, my wife. Don't come to parties like this again."
You're practically dragged and carried away by Caleb.
"Why didn't you let Y/N attend the class reunion!" Xavier shouts from behind you. "Caleb Xia, what skeletons do you have hiding in your closet?!"
Caleb stops. "I don't feel guilty about anything. You better not be the one with things to hide!"
"Me? Guilty?" he laughs. "Alright then, Caleb, I have a question for you! Were you the one who threw away all the love letters I put in Y/N's locker back then?"
Love letters?
How did you not know that Xavier Shen had written you love letters?
You glance back, only to be swept up in Caleb's arms and quickly carried out of the private room.
Everyone else is left exchanging bewildered glances: Xavier liked you back in high school?
Xavier struggles against the boys, shouting, "Let me go! I'm going to beat Caleb Xia to death! That fucking hypocrite!"
"Xavier, you're drunk, stop it." They don't let go, afraid he'd really chase after you.
“Call him back here!" Xavier demands. “I’m going to call him here! I’m going to teach him a lesson!”
“Xavier! Get your head screwed on straight!”
“Don’t stop me! Do you know how much Y/N loved to dance? She was in the practice room before class, after school, and weekends too! Sometimes she’ll even do a somersault while walking! She’s such a passionate dancer, a perfectly healthy person, and now her leg is injured - there's no way she's not heartbroken about it! That bastard Caleb Xia keeps lying to us, saying Y/N doesn't like going out. He's done something to her, I bet my fucking life on it!”
Caleb's already brought you to his car, carefully placing you in the passenger seat.
The minute he gets into the driver's seat, he catches you trying to open to the door, and he immediately locks it.
"Open the door! I want out!" You feel your head spinning, the alcohol really settling in."
"You're drunk, Y/N." He says, sighing.
"I'm not drunk!" You insist. You clearly heard many voices back there, and you heard Caleb call you his "wife." Something is wrong! He's never called you "wife" before, only ever by name, or at most "Mrs. Xia" when he's angry at you, and you can sense that he uses the term sarcastically. Moreover, you can tell he's in an unhappy mood right now!
He rolls down the window, letting you get some fresh air.
"What did you mean by what you said in the private room?" Caleb's voice sounds particularly cold in the cool breeze.
"What...what did I mean?" What was he talking about? You said a lot of stuff today.
"You said you wouldn't give your mooncakes to anyone else, what did you mean?" He rests his hands on the steering wheel, looking ahead, his eyes sharp.
"Um...not...not for Caleb Xia." Your head feels heavy, and you close your eyes tightly.
"Why?"
You smile, sad laugh escaping your lips. "Because I don't want to pursue him anymore...I gave my mooncakes to the wrong person..."
"Is that so? The wrong person?" Caleb leans closer, "Who are you going to give them to then?"
"Give them to..." Your mind is a little confused. Who else would you give them to?
"To Xavier?" He suddenly speaks as if interrogating you, his tone fierce.
The name reminds you that you had supposedly gotten multiple love letters. You frown, eyes getting hazy, looking at the face before you, murmuring, "Why did you throw away my love letters? They were from someone else."
"I'm the class monitor!" Caleb says sternly. "The school doesn't encourage early relationships!"
You furrow your brows... that reasoning...
You punch his shoulder hard. "What's it to you? You're just the class monitor, not even my homeroom teacher! The love letters he gave me are my privacy, what does it have to do with you! Why did you throw them away, you bully!"
Your eyes are blurry. Although your punches don't hurt much, each one lands with force, solidly striking his shoulders and chest.
"Are you angry?" He grasps your hand. "You're angry because I threw away your love letters?"
"Of course I'm angry! If someone wrote me a love letter..." You vaguely recall how you felt back in high school. The mess of hormones in early puberty, the insecurities you had, the self-consciousness about every little thing about you. Mina and the girls around you all received gifts and notes from boys, but you never did.
You weren't very close with your parents, having grown up by your grandparents' side. But it seemed to you that no one, not even your parents, loved you, let alone any boys. You weren't sad about not receiving any confessions, but if you did, it at least would have been an important form of affirmation; at least you were good in someone's eyes.
“What if you did? Would you date him?” Caleb presses on relentlessly.
Your frown deepens. When did you ever say you wanted to date someone?
“Let me tell you, those boys were all immature squirts back then! Whether it's Xavier or whoever else you wanted to give your mooncakes to! You're easily moved by anyone who shows you kindness! You'd only ended up getting taken advantage of!”
Your face contorts into a grimace. You're barely holding onto your consciousness and Caleb's stupid face seems to multiply into four in your vision. You shake your head, trying to shake the other three Calebs away. “No... Xavier isn’t that kind of person you’re describing.” The Xavier you recall is a sleepy boy, getting in trouble for napping in class, often found under the shade of trees with a stray cat in his lap.
“Then what kind of person is he?” Caleb suddenly raises his voice. “And the other person you had in mind, who is he?”
“He’s… genuine... and very kind. If he’s good to someone… he’ll always be good to them…” A flash of white hair enters your mind. You try to remember a face, thinking really hard, but only seeing the creases of someone's summer uniform. You didn't interact with him much in high school, but you knew he secretly kept a crow as a pet on his dorm window ledge—a pitiful little thing he picked up one day and never let go. "He's... a good person..." you mumble. ".... Q...qin..."
You black out.
T - 8 days
You wake up to a splitting headache, nauseous and parched. The midday sun is high in the sky. Stumbling down from the bed, you trip and fall with a loud 'thud'. You rub your eyes, trying to clear the fog still in your brain, but before you find your balance again, you're being lifted and put back into soft sheets.
Caleb stands at the bedside, looking displeased, but to your surprise, doesn't scold you about your clumsiness as he usually does.
You purse your lips, also not particularly eager to talk about what happened last night.
He brings you a try of light breakfast foods; some chicken soup congee, pancakes, and a few side dishes. "Eat. Mrs. Chen is off today. I cooked."
You stare at the food in front of you, head still in a daze.
The colonel... cooked for you?
This is the second time you've ever eaten something Caleb has made for you. The first since you got married.
Slowly picking up your spoon, your mind flashes back to the last time you experienced this.
You were only in your first year of high school, your homeroom had organized a camping trip.
Outside, all your classmates run around joyfully, like lambs in a field. Yet Caleb was already a quiet and reliable person, getting ready for lunch.
He was always clean and tidy, presentable and strong. That day on the camping trip was the most disheveled you had ever seen him.
He knew how to cook, but that didn't mean he was able to do it easily outdoors.
He couldn't figure out how to start the fire. He struggled earnestly, face and hands stained with soot.
You were different. When you were young, your grandparents brought you back to the village often. You built fires, scaled trees, and caught insects with all the other children over there. Despite being in a different group, you felt bad watching him struggle like that, so you go over, emptied his stove, and started a fire for him.
He stared at the blazing flames, momentarily stunned. Perhaps too self-conscious of his disheveled appearance, he didn't even thank you.
But afterwards, his performance became much more consistent. Judging from the way he cooked, it was clear he was used to doing domestic chores at home.
His group thanked him by saving the chicken leg for him. But he didn't eat it. As he passed your group, he places the drumstick in your bowl.
That was the moment your heart started pounding for him, despite being the first of only a handful of times you ever interacted with him.
That night, your dreams were filled with his image; his determined face, covered with soot, his slender fingers as he cut the vegetables, his meticulous and focused expression as he cooked…
The next day in class, you watch his profile as you absent-mindedly filled a whole page with his name, “Caleb Xia”…
Later, that piece of paper disappeared, but those words were etched firmly in your heart, impossible to erase.
The next time you ask him a question was after parent-teacher conferences. The teacher took note of students whose parents did not show up. You were one of them. Coincidentally, he was too.
Classmates whisper about what happened. A few of the students failed to inform their parents about the meetings, afraid of punishment for their poor grades.
But Caleb wasn't like that.
He was at the top of the class.
"Caleb Xia! You got first place in the entire grade, why aren't your parents here? If I got your score, my parents, grandparents, and even my dog would come!" someone yells.
Other students chimed in, "Yeah, Caleb, you got good grades, why aren't your parents here?"
He replies simply. "Don't ask, they're dead."
Later, you witness something you probably shouldn't have seen.
Caleb stands in an inconspicuous corner by the school's back gate. A dark car pulls up in front of him, the window rolled down, and he throws a wad of cash at the driver, hitting him in the face.
The person in the car points a finger at him, cursing, “You scoundrel! You think just because your parents offed themselves that you're safe with little old grandma?"
You're stunned. Unaware of his family's situation.
Caleb is stubborn, refusing to reply before he turns and walks away.
The driver calls after him shouting, "You'll join us one day, Caleb! Let's see how you survive!"
The sunset was blinding, bathing him in a golden light. He laughs defiantly, "Don't worry! I'd rather be bought out by a rich old lady than go with you!"
What kind of talk was that! Coming from a high schooler!
You don't know where you got the courage that day, but you walk up to him, eyes wide, voice panicked, "Caleb, whatever you do, don't sell yourself out like that!"
You don't know if you were imagining things, but you saw something that looked like glistening tears in his eyes in the setting sun.
They flash for a moment before he turns away, coldly smiling, "So, you're going to sponsor me?"
You fall silent.
That was Caleb's most irrational moment. Even now, more than a decade later, you never saw him as vulnerable again.
The next day, you take a math problem to him and ask how to solve it.
He raises a single eyebrow, not saying a word.
You thought he had refused, your head hanging low.
Finally, he tore off a piece of scratch paper and began to explain while drawing on it. He talked for the entire break before finally asking, "Do you understand now?"
You nod frantically. Then throw down five dollars and run back to your seat, completely unaware of Caleb's expression behind you.
You didn't have an allowance either, saving up those five dollars from running small errands here and there for other classmates and neighbors.
After school, Caleb blocked you on your way to the dorms. He stood under a sycamore tree, sunlight filtering through the leaves, casting dappled shadows over him.
You don't dare to lift your head, trying to walk past him.
He stands in front of you. "Why aren't you looking at me?"
The heat was unbearable, making your face flush. You're too embarrassed to say anything.
He scoffs, "you were quite bold earlier when you wanted to buy me out."
You lower your head even further. "I...I didn't mean..."
A five-dollar note is thrust in front of you. "Isn't this it? You think you can keep me for five dollars?
Before you can even clarify that you just wanted him to tutor you, he interrupts you, shoving the money back into your hands, swiftly leaving you behind with a single sentence: "I don't need your pity."
Your heart ached.
Later, he skipped three days of class. When you saw him outside school with a black armband pinned to his sleeve, when he returned to class and said, "Y/N, my grandmother passed away," your heart ached like that again; the pain crashing down like a tidal wave.
That Mid-Autumn Festival, everyone went home for a reunion dinner with their families and ate mooncakes, including you.
You went to your grandparents' house.
But he no longer had a grandmother to go back to.
After dinner, on your way back to school, the osmanthus trees near the dormitory were in full bloom, their fragrance rich and intoxicating.
By sheer coincidence, you see him standing there, alone.
You hand him a mooncake, filled with fresh meat, made by your grandmother.
That night, you sat together under the osmanthus tree, eating mooncakes.
Neither of you said a word. After finishing the mooncake, he went to the classroom, and you went back to your dorm.
The warm feeling from that night haunted you, driving you to accept his proposal 5 years later, despite not knowing each other well at all.
You once saw a comment online that said "Feeling sorry for a man will make you unhappy for life."
You didn't know what that meant back then.
Now, you understand.
T - 6 days
Today is the day you are scheduled to pick up your visa. You pack your purse carefully, pausing when the little rectangular piece of plastic that has always lived in your shared bedroom drawer is gone. Where did your ID go? You look everywhere in the room. Still nothing. Your pulse rising, you think back to the last few days. You haven't touched it at all. Caleb! He was rummaging through here this morning.
You immediately pick up your cell phone to call him. Shockingly, he answers on the first ring.
"Caleb, do you have my ID?" You ask, slightly breathless.
"Good morning to you to," he says sarcastically.
"Caleb! Is it with you!" You press on.
"Yes." His reply is short and straight to the point.
"Why did you take it?" You're exasperated, concerned you'll have to reschedule for later.
"Why do you need it?" He shocks you by turning your question against you.
"None of your business! I need it today."
A slight pause from him on the other end. "Come get it then."
"Get it... from your workplace?" You say incredulously.
"If you want it, come get it." He hangs up.
You stare at your phone dumbfoundedly. Then immediately call a cab to the Farspace Fleet HQ.
You've never really came to his workplace in the five years you spent together. The only other time you recall entering the building wasn't the most unpleasant experience for you either.
You text him as you enter, informing him of your arrival.
He doesn't reply this time.
You call, but it doesn't go through.
You frown. Was he in a meeting?
You don't have all day, so you are forced to go to the front counter and reveal your identity.
"The Colonel's wife?" The receptionist looks at you and laughs. "Young lady, everyone who comes here claims to be the Colonel's wife. If you're going to think of an excuse, find one that's less cliché."
"I'm serious. Call the Colonel, and tell him Y/N is here. He'll know to come down." You're not in the mood to play games.
"That's what they all say. If we did that, you'd think the Colonel wouldn't have time for anything other than dealing with people like you all day." The receptionist rolled her eyes and muttered.
"People like me?" You frown. "And pray, what am I?"
"Shameless women who want to climb the social ladder without working for it!" the receptionist laughs. "At least other women come here with presentable features, but now we're getting cripples? You should at least know your place!"
Is it really true that birds of a feather flock together? You can't wrap your head around her thinking. Why is it that no stranger outside of Caleb's circle harbor any ill will towards you and your leg, while everyone around Caleb is like this?
You're thinking of going home and getting your marriage certificate to prove your place; you certainly aren't going anywhere by talking to the workers down here.
Just then, the elevator door opens, and Liam walks out. Seeing the Adjutant, the receptionist immediately turns respectful.
"Adjutant Lin!" She greets him properly.
"Madam Y/N, I am the Colonel's Adjutant. Please come with me." He leads the way, letting you into the elevator. The two of you head straight to the top floor.
"The Colonel is in a meeting right now," he explains, leading you to a small office. "Please wait in here for now."
You thank him and put your bag down.
A few minutes later, a knock is heard, and a lady emerges from the door.
"Ms. Y/N, I am the Colonel's secretary. Would you like something to drink?"
"Anything is fine, or just water," you reply.
She returns with a glass of juice. "Is passionfruit drink ok?"
"That's wonderful, thank you." You take the glass.
"Just sit tight, I'll come get you once the meeting ends." She smiles, and closes the door behind her.
Fifteen minutes pass. Then twenty, and thirty.
You watch the time tick by, growing impatient. Finally, you get up to open the conference room door, only to find it locked from the outside.
Damn it!
You still need to pick up your visa this afternoon.
You frantically call Caleb's phone, but strangely, no one picks up despite the call going through. You're smart enough to know that this is most certainly a setup, but you don't have the time nor heart to figure out who orchestrated this entire thing or what their purpose was. You just wanted to get your visa.
You pound on the door, frantically, yelling, but no one answers.
You sit down and pick up the passion fruit lemonade, drinking it down in one gulp. Hands trembling, you quickly type out an email rescheduling your visa appointment.
Suddenly, your face begins to itch.
This isn't passion fruit lemonade at all…
You check the time: another ten minutes had passed. Neither Liam nor the secretary had returned, and nobody else knew you were here…
You feel your throat closing, as your breathing gets heavier.
You drag yourself, limping to the door, continuing to pound on it as you are no longer able to make any noise. You catch sight of a red box.
Throughout the office, everyone is methodically going about their work when suddenly, the building's fire alarms start blaring loudly.
"What's going on?" People run out of their cubicles and offices to see what's going on.
"Someone pulled the fire alarm on the top floor! Everyone evacuate!"
Caleb also hears the noise, and comes out immediately.
"What's going on? How can there be a fire up here?" His eyelids have been twitching all day. He had a strange, ominous premonition.
Thunk... thunk... thunk...
It sounds like someone is weakly banging on the door.
"Who's in there?" Caleb asks urgently, kicking the door.
MC appears from behind him, clinging to his shoulder. "Gege! Don't go in there! It could be dangerous!"
"Someone's in here!" Caleb shouts.
"Caleb... Help... help me... Caleb..."
A weak cry, barely audible over the commotion in the hall.
Caleb's eyes widen in shock. "Y/N! Y/N! Is that you in there? Y/N answer me!"
He forcefully shakes off MC's hand, barging against the door with his shoulder. "Someone! Help! Open the door!"
With a loud bang, he breaks the door down.
You're on the floor, fallen to the side. Body red, face nearly turning purple.
"Y/N!" he cries, quickly picking you up. "Call an ambulance!" His roar echoes throughout the entire floor.
His voice startles you, as you weakly open your eyes, looking at the familiar yet unfamiliar face in front of you. You want to raise your hand to check if it is real, but your arm refuses to move.
You try to speak, but no sound comes out. You manage a weak smile and barely manage to mouth the words: "if... I'm dead... won't... owe me anything... you'll... free.."
"Stop it! You won't die!" Caleb runs down dozens of flights of stairs.
You close your eyes. You don't mind saying goodbye to all of this.
"Y/N, don't sleep on me, ok? Wake up! Wake up, you hear me?" The last thing you her is Caleb's frantic voice.
T - 5 days
You wake up in the hospital after getting an acute dose of epinephrine. Zayne gives you a thorough examination, and finds no other acute problems. After determining you're stable enough to step down to the observation area, he scolds you seriously. "Walking around without an epipen with a serious allergy? You could've died from anaphylaxis! How could you be so careless?"
Caleb is still somewhat shaken by it all. "An allergic reaction? Y/N, what did you eat that caused this?"
You sit there silently.
"Let's observe her a little longer. There are still a few results pending. We'll see what happens when the results come back," Zayne says before leaving.
Caleb sighs and sits down beside you, continuing to carefully dab at your neck and shoulders with the cotton swab.
It stings a little. You frown and turn away.
"Don't move, Y/N. I'm trying to clean it. Don't want any infections from your blisters."
The words sound familiar. In the early days after your injury, he had said similar things. But it was that gentleness, this feigned gentleness, that gave you false hope and expectation in him.
He's acting so kind again - what's he trying to do?
You no longer trust anything he says.
“I remember you’re allergic to apples. Did you eat apples before coming to the HQ today? But Mrs. Chen knows not to buy them... Did you eat something new on your way here?”
His tone is like coaxing a child…
You purse your lips, giving him a cold laugh. “I didn’t eat anything. I’m calling the police.” your tone is firm.
“Call the police?” Caleb frowns.
There's a rustling sound outside the room. You turn around to see that MC had arrived.
T - 4 days
MC stands outside holding a bouquet of flowers, looking cautious and timid. "Caleb, how is Y/N? I wanted to come see her, but I was worried she wouldn't want to see me."
"Y/N's fine, she just needs some rest," Caleb says, knowing you indeed dislike her. "I appreciate your sentiment, but she's in a bad mood right now, you should go back."
"Hmm..." MC purses her lips, eyes rimmed with tears. "Caleb, I'm sorry, it's all my fault. As your personal assistant, I was careless, causing Y/N to suffer like this. I'm so glad she's alright, otherwise... otherwise, I don't know what I would do..." She starts crying.
You, still in the room, hear everything. MC joined the Farspace Fleet as Caleb's personal assistant? So that's why she went on the mission with him. However, since she's his assistant, everything that happened today makes sense now.
You grab your bag, turning on your phone.
"What are you doing?" Caleb comes back seeing you enter your password.
"I told you, I'm calling the police." You successfully unlock it.
MC rushes into the room, Gideon behind her now. "Y/N, tread carefully. This is the Farspace Fleet HQ we're talking about. Are you sure the authorities will respond to this? What happened in the meeting room was an accident, I swear."
"Oh? And how would you know it was an accident?" you scoff. "Were you the one who locked the door?"
MC's face immediately turns pale. "How could you say that about me! It was Secretary Lu who led you to the conference room, she was the one who brought you the apple juice. She said the door was locked from the inside!"
"Apple juice?" You look into MC's flustered eyes. You have a pretty good idea of what's going on now. "I never said I drank apple juice, how did you know it was apple juice?"
MC avoids your eyes. "No, I... As Caleb's personal assistant, I checked everything before coming here! Secretary Lu explained everything that happened from picking you up to asking you to wait in the conference room."
"Is that so?" You turn to look at Caleb. "There aren't many people in this world who knows I'm allergic to apple juice. Not even my parents."
Only your grandparents. And Caleb.
Caleb's face stiffens.
You remain unusually calm. "Caleb Xia, your secretary kept telling me she gave me passion fruit juice. How did it turn into apple juice? Did Secretary Lu deliberately tamper with it, or did someone switch the drink around? And Caleb, who have you told about my apple juice allergy?"
MC's face is deathly pale.
You don't wait for her to reply. "And the doors? There's security cameras all over the Farspace HQ. A quick check will bring everything to light. Of course, if the cameras were tampered with... that's a whole different issue. So I'm going to have to call the police about it".
Caleb's face drops, his expression changing drastically. "Pips... did you really...?"
She runs forward to grab his arm. "No Gege! I swear! It wasn't me, it must've just been a joke!"
"A joke?" you sneer. "Your group seems to love joking around the most. I've lived for over twenty five years and never knew that you guys had jokes that could kill people!"
"No, no, no.." MC shakes her head violently, "Gege, listen to me! It wasn't me, I promise-"
"She's lying" you say flatly, dialing the tone.
Gideon, unable to contain himself any longer, smacks the phone out of your hands. "Who's lying! You're the one lying, for your own selfish reasons, slandering an innocent person!"
His line of thinking is really quite creative, giving everyone else a new inspiration to ride off of.
"Y/N," MC cries, looking at you with disbelief, "I can't believe you hate me this much, that you'd put your own life in danger to frame me! If you hate me that much, just kick me out! Don't torment Caleb like this! Do you care for him at all? Do you know how terrified he was? I never thought it'd all be staged!"
Gideon scoffs, "isn't acting pitiful her specialty? Wasn't her saving Caleb five years ago the same thing? She wanted to force him into marrying her!"
You knew all too well how cruel Gideon could be, and how little he thought of you. Yet you never expected him to say something so shameless: that you saving Caleb five years ago was self-sabotage to trick him into marriage!
Sometimes, when anger reaches its peak, it paradoxically turns into calm.
You look at Caleb, despite knowing time and time again that he won't side with you.
But in this moment, you just want to ask him one question: if he thought the same as Gideon.
Then it wouldn't just be a matter of you being foolish. You would've been better off saving a dog five years ago.
"Caleb," you stand, not a ripple of emotion behind your eyes. "Come here."
Caleb, sandwiched between Gideon and MC, looks at you.
"Caleb, don't go!" Gideon and MC say it almost simultaneously.
His gaze meets yours. After a brief silence, Caleb stands up and walks to you.
You look at the man you had risked your life for, the man you "traded" your leg for.
You calmly ask, "Do you think so too?"
He doesn't speak.
"You also..." you stare into deep amethyst eyes, the echo of the conversation you had with him after he interrupted your physical therapy still ringing in your ears. "You also think that today's events were done on purpose? You also think that I saved you five years ago expecting you to marry me?"
Something in Caleb's eyes narrow, and he looks away.
"Say it, Caleb! Look at me!"
A minute of silence passes.
"Yes."
You gasp, as if that would force you to swallow the pain, but your vision still blurs uncontrollably.
The quiet but resolute "yes" feels like a boulder crashing into your chest, the lingering pain still reverberating over and over after the initial damage.
How could someone who has been hurt to this extent still be sad?
smack!
Your handprint remains on Caleb's face where you slapped him; your fingernails leaving a thin trace of blood, particularly striking on his handsome features.
"Get out."
"Y/N-"
"Get the FUCK out or I will."
You don't even wait for him to make a decision - you stumble out of the room without looking back.
T - 3 days
You collapse onto the bed when you get home, your body still throbbing with pain. Mrs. Chen calls you for dinner, but you're too exhausted to move.
"Bring it in," say. Except for the initial period after your accident when you were bed-bound, you never got into the habit of eating in bed.
You cherished your home with Caleb so much that you couldn't bear to see anything dirty or out of place. Looking back, you laugh at your stupid thinking. What good is a house if you don't use it?
After you finish eating, Mrs. Chen takes the plate away and asks if you want to take a bath.
You nod. "Please run me some water, and then change the bedding to clean ones."
"Okay." She leaves to start running the water.
You try to get out of bed and make your way to the bath yourself, but after only a few steps, your legs feel weak. Your body's overexertion and emotional outburst from earlier don't make your condition any better.
Mrs. Chen comes back out and is worried to see your trembling, unstable figure. "Madam, shall I help you?"
You take a deep breath and nod.
She helps you to the bathroom and didn't let go until you're comfortably seated in the bathtub.
"Thank you," you say.
You lean back, the warm water soothing every inch of your skin, easing the soreness and making you feel much more comfortable.
After a while, the water cools, and you call for Mrs. Chen again. You still don't want to open your eyes.
Footsteps approach and stop at the edge of the bathtub, but you hear no movement afterwards.
You frown. "Mrs. Chen..." You open your eyes to see Caleb.
"Why are you here?" You're startled, instinctively covering any part of your body above the water. "Get out!"
You call loudly for Mrs. Chen.
"Mrs. Chen won't come in." He looks down at you, his gaze deep.
"Mrs. Chen!" you continue to call, unwilling to give up.
"You think Mrs. Chen is going to listen to you, or the person who pays her salary? He leans down, his face suddenly very close to yours, so close that you can clearly see his bloodshot eyes and your own reflection in his pupils.
"What exactly do you want?" You grip the edge of the bathtub tightly, your defenses fully raised.
He reaches into the soapy water, grabbing your shoulders and lifting you entirely out of the tub.
You feel a chill run down your spine. This is the first time you've been completely exposed in front of Caleb. Humiliation and panic overwhelms you in an instant.
"Let go of me, you dirty bastard!" You begin to struggle in his arms, but it's an useless endeavor.
“If you want to fall and get hurt, then keep being stubborn!” His deep voice carries a threatening tone.
You come to your senses and slowly stop. You can't risk getting hurt now. You're leaving in a couple days. You can't afford to have any more accidents.
“Not moving anymore?” he asks, revealing no emotion.
“Caleb Xia, don't make me hate you.” You say.
He gives you a bitter smile. “Don't you hate me enough already?”
You remain silent.
Your relationship with Caleb has indeed reached a point of no return.
He snorts coldly, wrapping you in a bath towel, and walks out of the bathroom back to the bedroom, placing you on the bed. He sits you on the edge and goes back, reappearing with a hairdryer.
As he plugs it in, blowing hot air into your wet hair, you're momentarily stunned.
What's he trying to do? Apologize? Make it up to you? Or is it just all for MC again?
The only sound in the room is the roar of the hairdryer; neither of you speak.
After he finishes, he rummages through the bedside drawer, clumsily tying your hair up into a knot.
Several bruises on the top of your back and shoulders from falling reveal themselves
He stares at them for a moment, then forcefully rips away the towel wrapped around you.
"Look at yourself! What are you doing to yourself these days, doing that stupid rehab?!"
What does this have to do with him at all?
You quickly pull the blanket back over herself, glaring at him with hostility. "Caleb, believe me, I really will kill you."
He sits down opposite from you, his eyes filled with sarcasm. "We've been married for five years, and this is your attitude when I try to touch you?"
What else does he expect? What attitude should you have?
You smile mockingly. "Caleb, I told you. Your hands are dirty. Also, if you touch me, aren't you afraid your Pipsqueak will be heartbroken?"
He doesn't reply, only pushing you down onto the bed, but doesn't move to pull away the blanket.
You feel his warm hand on your calf.
He's massaging your scars again?
You give up struggling, already somewhat familiar with his methods.
Unsolicited kindness is always suspicious; he must want something from you.
He continues applying ointment to your bruises, from your leg up to your arms, then your back.
Once he's done, he covers you with a blanket, meeting your cold gaze.
You look at him with no hint of gratefulness, just waiting.
He tucks you in more tightly, forcing a bitter smile. "Y/N, how did we get to this point?"
He's asking you why things had come to this? Didn't he know?
He sighs deeply. "Y/N, let's talk about this calmly."
You consider it for a moment. Since MC appeared, you've always been calm, never wavering. It's him, on the other hand, who was always emotional because of MC.
“Caleb Xia, I don’t know what we have to talk about anymore,” you say indifferently. “I’ve already made myself clear.”
Caleb's hand reaches under the covers to find your hand and grasps it tightly. “Y/N, I didn’t want this. From the beginning until now, I swear I've been sincere in wanting to live a good life with you.”
“Is that so?” you sneer. “From the beginning? Didn't you think I was a venomous woman who used a self-inflicted injury to force you to marry me?”
Caleb closes his eyes, remaining silent for a long time.
“Colonel Xia,” you smile, “Please let go of my hand and get me a bottle of disinfectant”
When Caleb opens his eyes, the bloodshot veins are particularly noticeable.
He doesn't ask why, just gets up to fetch it, and hands it to you.
You prop yourself up on the bed, and begins methodically spraying it on your hands, arms, legs, stomach, back—everywhere he had just touched.
Caleb's expression instantly changes. "What are you doing?"
"I'm disinfecting myself. I told you, your hands are dirty." You finish spraying and calmly place the alcohol bottle on the bedside table.
"You…" Caleb is aggravated again.
You simply turn over and lie down to sleep.
After a while, Caleb finally speaks to you again, his voice soft. "We've been married for five years. In these five years, I haven't wronged you, have I?"
Five years... your heart clenches. You don't want to look back on the past five years.
"I'm so grateful to you for saving me back then, and for giving me a chance to atone. For the past five years, I've given you everything I could. So can you do just one more thing? If you agree to this favor, I'll do anything you ask from now on."
Here it comes…
"You want me to drop the case and reconcile with MC and your two cronies?" You cut to the chase.
T - 2 days
Yes," Caleb says, his voice utterly broken. "I'm sorry, Y/N, I have to protect MC. She was the only light in the darkest moments of my life."
Your heart sinks to the bottom of the ocean.
What in the world is Caleb thinking? Telling his lawful wife that another woman is his only light, and expecting you to help him?
"Y/N," he continues, "you know that my grandmother was the most important person in my life. MC was good friends with Zayne, an upperclassman whose parents were doctors. Through her connections was how my grandma was able to get treatment after she fell ill. One evening, when I visited Grandma, there was a bottle of origami cranes beside her pillow. The nurse said it was a gift from a volunteer. They said that with the blessing of a thousand cranes, Grandma would definitely recover.
Caleb chokes up a little. "Grandma didn't recover. The blessing of a thousand origami cranes only stayed a myth. But Y/N, do you understand the loneliness of that time when my world was completely dark, and I was struggling to bear everything alone? The girl who helped me share the burden while I was taking care of Grandma, the girl who lit up my dark world with origami cranes, was MC. I thought I would never see her again after she left, but she ended up coming back to me. I'm sorry Y/N. No matter what kind of person MC is, in my heart, she will always be that light."
You listen silently, finally unable to help but smile.
Caleb Xia, are you really sure that the girl who folded the origami cranes was MC?
T - 1 day
What was it like to have a crush on someone in your youth?
It was having your heart feel empty when he didn't come to class; even though there was only one empty seat, the whole world became hollow;
It was the world suddenly brightening when he steps into the classroom. The sunlight outside the window shining like gold, but it couldn't possibly compare to the radiance surrounding him at that moment.
It was when his smile warmed your heart, and when he frowned, your heart clenched;
It was the satisfaction in watching him from afar, letting time quietly slip by, wanting to give your everything to him but not wanting him to know…
That year, when you learned that the weariness and pain Caleb tried so hard to hide was because his grandmother was seriously ill and hospitalized, every weekend, you'd wear a mask and get up before dawn every morning, catch the bus to the hospital, and help his grandma with breakfast and keep her company. You lied about your identity every time, simply saying you were a volunteer.
You weren't sure if paper cranes could actually make wishes come true, but being young and full of sincere wishes, you secretly folded a bottle full of paper cranes for his grandmother.
There certainly weren't a thousand total, but the bottle was full. It took you a long time folding, and you wrote a blessing on each piece of paper before carefully folding it inside.
While wishing Caleb's grandmother a speedy recovery, you also prayed for her own grandparents' health.
At that time, you felt that you and Caleb had so much in common.
None of your parents were in the picture.
You both depended on their grandparents' for survival.
You were both struggling to grow up against the odds, trying your best to maintain your lives, your pride, and self-respect.
You once thought that you and Caleb were like two trees growing side by side, far apart, your branches never intersecting in the air, yet your roots in the soil were always tightly intertwined.
In the end, you've been deluding yourself.
You just smile without speaking or explaining anything to him.
If it were before, perhaps you would have explained to him that you were the volunteer.
But now, there is truly no need.
You traded your leg for his life, saving him from being run over by a car. If in his eyes, it was all a ploy, a way to trick him into marrying you, then what would the origami cranes you folded all those years ago mean to him? Were they, like the mooncakes from that Mid-Autumn Festival, just a means to woo him as well? Even if he didn't think of you as so calculating and despicable, what difference would it make?
He simply doesn't love you. You've tried for five years already. The fact is, you saved his life. Regardless of his motives for marrying you, the end result is the same: he doesn't love you. So why add another layer of trouble? You've known him since you were twelve. 15 years now. If love could truly change people, you would have done so long ago. The truth is, no matter what you did for him, it wouldn't change a thing.
Besides, you already have a clear future and plans. You'll cut ties completely with this person and stop this entanglement for once and for all.
Only a smile remains on your face.
A smile that is both laughable and pathetic.
"What are you laughing at?" Caleb was probably lost in his own memories, so it's understandable that he felt a bit resentful that his heartfelt story is met with nothing but a laugh.
You lower your eyes, a faint smile still on your lips. "It's nothing, I'm just very touched. I'll do as you wish under one condition."
He looks at you expectantly.
"I'll have my lawyer send over some papers. At long as you sign them, MC is off the hook."
"You... really?" Caleb isn't sure if you're being sarcastic.
"I'm serious." You lie on the bed, looking up at him, the faint sadness in your eyes gone, replaced by a genuine smile. "I wish you a long and life."
T - 0 days
When Caleb leaves this morning, he tells you to wait for him at home, the same as usual.
However, he lingers at the door for a minute longer, gazing at you with eyes filled with an unfamiliar emotion.
There's no point thinking about it anymore. Nothing in the world will convince Caleb Xia that his wife would want to leave him.
Will he realize you're truly gone when he sees the empty closet?
It won't matter if he doesn't; your letter, the lawyer, and the divorce papers will tell him.
You look back one last time at the home you lived in for five years.
You write one last line in your notebook: "0 days until I leave Caleb Xia: Goodbye, I'm going to fly higher."
You turn off the lights and close the door.
You stick a paper crane on the door; let this paper crane wait for him in your place; perhaps, it will tell him the answer.
***
T + 6 days:
Caleb feels like he's actually gone insane. The first night you don't come home, he plays it off as another one of your temper outbursts. Afterall, the paper crane on the door was your way of mocking his past with MC, wasn't it?. The second night he blows up your phone. Nothing goes through. By the third day, he is contacted by your lawyer with the divorce papers prepared and already signed by you. You ask for none of his assets and no compensation. He nearly destroys the office table in anger. After another two days to calm down, the panic and unease in his chest grow to new lengths. He stalks the entire city. Tries going after your telephone records, search history. He finds your preparation to leave him starting long, long before he suspected anything out of the ordinary. He looks at himself in the mirror and wants to laugh at the pathetic sight before him. He can't possibly go to work in this state, so he turns around to go home instead.
He takes a shower and sits in the chair in your bedroom, lost in thought.
This is the chair you used to sit in.
You'd sit here watching dramas, reading, oh right, probably studying how to get away form him too.
Your belongings are still on the table: pens in the pen holder, and several books you read, the most recent being art history, lying on the desk. Fiddling with the paper crane.
He opened a drawer, which was also full of books. Digging through its contents, he finds a notebook.
He pulls it out and opens it.
The contents read: Countdown to leaving Caleb Xia.
T - 22 days: The jewelry he gave me were all mementos of someone else.
T - 11 days: He gave our wedding rings to someone else too. But I don't even want him anymore, so why should I care about the ring?
His eyes sting.
"I don't even want this person anymore…"
So, from that moment on, you truly wanted a divorce.
Every time you brought it up, it was from the heart. It wasn't a tactic to keep him, nor was it a way to force MC to leave. You genuinely wanted to leave him…
Looking further, you had recorded every single thought that, in the month before you left, seemed trivial to him. With each passing day, your heart seemed to die a little more.
He lowers his head, forehead resting on the notebook.
His eyes ache terribly.
In those 20-odd days, if he had even a few moments of empathy, if he had considered things from your perspective, he might have still had a chance to salvage the relationship. But he didn't.
He went down a path of no return, finally leading to a complete break between you.
He thought you would never leave him, never leave this home, which is why he stood on MC's side time and time again.
He thought, "She's my wife, she's family, she'll never leave. No matter when I come back, she'll be waiting at home..."
You loved him so much, you've liked him since high school, even risked your life for him. How could he have believed that you really wanted to divorce him?
T + 24 days:
Caleb sighs, a bitter smile on his face.
He doesn't know what was wrong with him; why everything had been so bitter lately.
The food he eats taste bitter, the water tastes bitter, even the air around him seems to carry a faint bitterness.
That afternoon, Liam comes to his office, inviting him out to dinner with Gideon.
Sitting behind his desk, Caleb feels listless. "Forget it, I'm too tired. You guys go ahead, I'll cover it."
"Colonel," Liam protests, before switching to addressing him by name. "Caleb. Do you think I'm starving? I can see you're unhappy these days, and I figured getting together with you and Gideon would allow you to have some fun.
Caleb shakes his head, hating how his hairs bristled at the mention of his friend. "I hate crowds, forget it."
"Caleb, what's wrong with you?" Gideon pops in, looking at him, his eyes filled with worry. "You used to love being with your brothers, having fun together. As long as the crew is together, your worries would disappear. I can invite MC along too, she'll make you feel better."
Caleb freezes.
What is wrong? He didn't know what was wrong either. It's just an instinctive reaction; he didn't want to go.
Later, at the bar, Caleb is still trying to think of why he feels uncomfortable.
"Maybe... I'm getting old?" As you get older, you grow weary of crowds and want to be alone in peace and quiet.
Liam laughs. "You're old? You...you're old? What am I then?"
Well, if not, then Caleb couldn't find a reason.
"Caleb, what's wrong with you?" Gideon sighs. "We all know you didn't want to marry Y/N in the first place. You didn't love her. Isn't it better that you're getting a divorce now?"
"Yeah..." Caleb's eyes glaze over. "Isn't it supposed to be better? But, Gideon, why am I not okay? I'm really not okay at all."
"Is it just that you've gotten used to it? It's hard to let go of someone suddenly in your life, like when I had a dog when I was little. I had it for years, and one day it got into an accident and passed. I cried for a long time." Liam tries to help.
Caleb shakes his head. "That's not how it works, Liam. Didn't you love your dog? You cried."
Liam is stumped. "Oh, right. I definitely loved it."
All three of them fall silent.
Liam thinks for a long time before slowly saying, "Caleb, you didn't fall in love with Y/N, did you?"
Caleb feels as if he's been struck on the head. He had never considered this question before.
"Let me ask you this," Liam continues, "you're single now, right? If you had two choices: one, go back to Y/N, and she'd still be your Mrs. Xia; two, marry MC. You could marry MC if you want to! Which would you choose if you had these two options in front of you?"
Caleb doesn't hesitate at all. "Liam, what are you saying? When did I ever plan to marry MC? Since she came back, the thought of marrying her never even crossed my mind!"
Liam is stunned. "I literally thought MC was your wife the first day you brought her to the headquarters! Wasn't it because you had Y/N before? Now that you're divorced, you're still not considering MC?"
"Liam, MC and I are a thing of the past," Caleb says with a small laugh, "What are you thinking?"
"Then, why are you so good to her?" he stammers.
"Am I not good to you?" Caleb retorts. "Am I not good to Gideon?"
"Then...how...can this be comparable?" Liam didn't know what to say.
"How is it different? The two of you are my brothers since we were trainees at the DAA, and we've all worked our way up to our positions now. When MC was with me, she was still a high schooler, encouraging me on when I was was nothing but a new recruit. She didn't get to reap any of the benefits of that work, she had a hard time abroad. Of course I have to pamper her when she comes back, she's my little sister, right, Gideon?"
"Uhhh.... Anyway..." Liam thought it was VERY different.
"Of course it's different!" A voice booms from behind. It's Yvette.
Liam quickly stands up. "Darling, why are you here?"
"I came to see what nonsense you're spouting, you idiot!" Yvette's face darkens. "You guys are still talking about that two-faced bitch?"
"No...wife, please... don't say such nonsense. How could MC be two-faced?" Liam quickly looks at Caleb, fearing for his job.
“Try saying another word for her” Yvette points at Liam's nose, as if she's about to slap him into oblivion
“No, I won’t say anything… I won’t…”
Yvette's anger finally subsides. “Let’s go home!”
Liam hesitates. “Darling, how about we have dinner with the Colonel today?”
“No way!” Yvette's temper flares again, pointing at Liam once more “I don’t hang out with your kind of people! You’re going home to eat too! He deserves it! He’s not worth wasting time on!”
Liam looks troubled, hoping his wife would show some mercy.
Strangely, Caleb doesn't seem offended at all. He asks Yvette with a smile, "What kind of person am I?"
Yvette turns to look at him, scoffing. "I didn't want to talk about you, because you scumbags and bitches get angry and it's bad for my baby. I don't want my baby to see the ugliness of this world while still in my belly. But since you're asking like this, I've changed my mind."
Liam sweats profusely. "My darling, no, let's just let our baby grow peacefully. Don't change your mind."
"No!" Yvette declares. "I've decided to teach our baby to distinguish right from wrong!"
She turns to face Caleb again. "Colonel Xia, I'm not trying to be mean, but stop acting like you're some sort of saint. What's with all this talk about MC being there for you when you were down on your luck, about her suffering abroad and wanting to compensate her? Is it so hard to admit you're a cheater? Aren't you just trying to cover up the fact that you're greedy and have always looked for something better?"
Caleb's face turns ashen. "I didn't, MC and I didn't..."
Yvette's spirit is still high. "I don't give a fuck if you and MC slept together or not! That's not my business. I only care about Liam! But Caleb, this isn't about physical cheating!"
Liam is getting increasingly anxious hearing his wife absolutely tear through his boss without any restraint. Was this something she could just casually say? Out in public?? He immediately covers her mouth.
"Let her talk!" Caleb's expression darkens.
"I'll say it!" Yvette slaps away Liam's hand. "Colonel Xia! I told you you're a cheater! The ultimate scumbag! You enjoyed Y/N's wholehearted love while flirting with MC under the guise of "taking care of a sister? What brother buys you a house, bags, and luxury goods? What kind of siblings share a room together while out on a business trip? Oh right, Liam used to get that privilege when you were cadets, but is the stuff in your brain the same shade when you sleep with MC?!"
Liam tries really hard not to laugh. "The stuff in your brain isn't the same color"? His wife's mouth was really something…
But then again, even he didn't believe Caleb and MC's brains were pure when they were together…
"What are you laughing at?" Yvette turns around to scold her husband. "Your boss doesn't have a brain, it's filled with tofu! You think you're so great? Yours is filled with tofu dregs!"
"Darling, please;;; if you want to scold me, let's go back home to do it"
"Let me finish!" Yvette hadn't wanted to say all of this, but since she was asked to, she wouldn't be happy until she was finished. She glares at Caleb. "With your filthy thoughts, ask yourself, with your non-existent conscience, when you sided with MC again and again like no tomorrow, wasn't your heart soaring? Like you were back in your youth! Wasn't that right? An old man like you, suddenly rediscovering the feeling of pure love, wasn't your life full of passion? And then what? Clearly, you were emotionally unfaithful, I don't know if your filthy body has cheated on her! But whether it's emotional or physical, it's still cheating! And yet you still insist that there is nothing between you and MC. Caleb Xia, if you openly admit to cheating, I'd respect you as a man. But to cheat and then pretend to be deeply in love, I can only give you one word: scumbag! No, add another: despicable!
Finally done, she glares at Liam, "Aren't you leaving?"
"Oh, oh, oh." Liam apologizes to Caleb with his eyes, quickly removing himself from the premise.
T + 25 days
Caleb checks his personal set of security cameras at work. You weren't lying. MC is clearly seen talking to the secretary, putting the apple juice in her hands. Gideon walks in, and Caleb slams his laptop shut.
"Colonel?"
A shudder runs down his spine as he meets Caleb's dark gaze.
T + 31 days
Yvette's brutal words live rent free in Caleb's head.
Five years ago, when MC first left, it was during a period of setbacks for him. He spent his entire youth preparing to get into the DAA. But now that he was there, he realized with a start that he, a small town boy, was so woefully unprepared compared to his peers. Years of hard work were on the verge of being wasted. He had a habit of shutting others out when he was struggling. MC knew it. And did her best to call him out of her own accord, always checking in, trying to make him feel better.
But it came the day she couldn't take it anymore. She up and left him, cutting off all communications suddenly.
He wasn't stupid; of course he knew the reason why. However, he also had the self-awareness not to drag her down with him.
Later, he heard that a wealthy second-generation heir had gone abroad with her.
He knew all of it.
His depression during that period was partly due to the breakup, and partly due to his career setbacks—a mixed bag.
He got drunk sometimes, but not entirely out of despair. Most of the time, it was from entertaining his peers, or trying to network with higher-ups, practically begging and pleading for a chance. However, the night you saved him, he was truly heartbroken. He had faced rejection after rejection, losing all confidence and almost giving up.
Then you saved him, trading your leg for his rebirth.
From that moment on, he carried the weight of another person's life on his shoulders. It was at that moment that he told himself: I absolutely cannot give up, I cannot give up. There are still people waiting for me to take responsibility for, waiting for me to support them.
Fate can be truly miraculous sometimes.
It was after that car accident that things suddenly took a turn for the better.
When you got discharged from the hospital, it was also the time his performance soared.
After that, his missions only ever returned successful. Offers and promotions came in waves, and his power increased exponentially.
And then, MC returned.
Somewhere deep in his heart, he faced her with resentment and bitterness, thinking: "The person you looked down on back then has now made it big, standing proudly before you. How do you feel?"
He would never admit it though.
Just like the necklace of MC's dreams. The first birthday he spent with you, he thought to himself, "so what? The decorations MC liked, the style she fawned over, I've given them all to another girl. I can afford to do so."
So, five years later, when MC returned, he carried this resentment, enjoying her adoration and affection, feeling a childish satisfaction. The person who abandoned him back then was now obediently fawning over him, trying to please him, and the resentment in his heart finally subsided.
But the scales in his heart had been tipped.
Just as Yvette said, he despicably indulged in two relationships, becoming lost in this ambiguity.
He basked in MCs adoration and retaliated by showering her with affection and indulgence, as if this would prove to his former, down-on-his-luck self: I've made it big, I'm omnipotent.
He never even considered it love or lack thereof.
He simply wanted to frantically prove to MC his power, his influence, that he could spoil a woman to the extreme if he wanted.
Of course, in doing so, he hurt you.
But at that time, he didn't think about any of that; he was simply gradually losing himself in his relationship with MC.
He explained to you that he was only remembering MC's kindness from when she made the paper cranes and that nothing ever happened between them.
Perhaps this reason held some semblance of validity? He always needed a plausible excuse to mask his dark and despicable psychology.
But it was also true. He could do anything for MC, except betray you —by betraying you, he meant maintaining boundaries and not doing anything physically inappropriate.
But Yvette said that emotional infidelity also counts as infidelity.
Does it?
Did he cheat on you?
He wasn't sure himself.
He couldn't distinguish whether his feelings for MC were of resentment or love.
The only thing he was certain of was that you loved him, loved him to the point of self-sacrifice. So, no matter how his heart swayed, you would always be his Mrs. Xia, and that would never change.
That day after he told you the story about the paper cranes, MC tried to embrace him from behind at work. In that moment, he realized: he couldn't possibly cross any physical boundaries with her.
His destiny belonged to you.
That night, he wanted to see you more than ever.
So, he returned without delay, even before dinnertime.
But you were already gone.
So even you could leave him too…
Even with the wealth and luxury and everything he could give you, you could still abandon it so easily.
That's right, he laughs at himself, why would you care about money?
That silly girl who used to live frugally, worrying about his financial situation, trying to pay him $5 for every math problem he tutored you in - how could you care about money?
He was wrong…
He'd been too arrogant for too long, forgetting the path he'd come from, neglecting the most important person in his world.
How ridiculous, only realizing you were the most important person after losing you.
And before that?
It seemed everything came before you.
Work was more important than you, because he needed to develop his career, earn money, and support you for life;
His pride was more important than you, so he absolutely couldn't lose face in front of MC, forcing you to apologize, even though you were never actually in the wrong.
His thinking was simple: even if he had wronged you, it wouldn't matter. You loved him so much; all he had to do was sweet talk and make it back up to you.
In fact, many times, between you and MC, he chose to side with MC simply because he knew you would forgive him…
But you didn't.
You wouldn't forgive him forever, nor would you wait for him forever.
T + 52 days:
Liam stops by Caleb's office. It's past midnight.
"Colonel..." he starts, stiffening as Caleb's dead gaze shifts onto him from the screen.
"You've been here for the past 5 days straight. I think... you should go home now..."
Home? Caleb laughs, a hollow sound, devoid of any positive emotion. Where would he go now? What is home to him?
He admits that in the past five years, he didn't love going home as much.
Mainly, when he first got married, he was afraid to go home and face you, your overwhelming love, and your injury. Guilt and remorse weighed on his heart like a brick, so much so that he couldn't even be intimate with you. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but just seeing your leg overwhelmed him with guilt, making it impossible to continue.
And this created a vicious cycle: the greater the psychological pressure, the less he tried, and the less he tried, the greater the pressure…
He even saw a therapist for some time, but it didn't help.
Over time, he became increasingly adverse to returning home to see you, and staying at his office until midnight.
He had many excuses: logistics, planning, meetings with important stakeholders, out on missions, and most often, just being busy with work.
He did indeed spend most of his time working, but no matter how late, he always had a direction in his heart—home.
Whether it was his conscience or something else, going home every night was a routine, just like his work.
And now, his home was still there, but he didn't know where he should go after you left.
He always told himself that it was his responsibility to be good to you for the rest of his life, but he didn't even know when it started to become more than just a responsibility.
It turned out that when the girl who always smiled at him like a sunflower was no longer there, home was no longer home, and going home lost its meaning.
But you had promised him that you would never leave him, whether in poverty or wealth; you had promised him that you would leave a light on for him no matter how late he came home.
He truly believed that this light would illuminate him forever, so he gradually took advantage of you, until ultimately, he became the one who extinguished it.
T + 93 days
Caleb's phone rings. Looking down, it's Zayne.
“Caleb, what's up? I can't come out for dinner, but feel free to talk on the phone. I'm busy, I have to work overtime.”
“Oh…” he says wistfully, “Then it's nothing.”
He just had nowhere else to go and wanted to find a place to talk about the past, about people he once knew.
“Oh, by the way, do you remember Sylus Qin?” Zayne suddenly askes.
“I remember…” A name that wasn't so pleasant.
“He's gone.”
Caleb is taken aback. "Gone?"
"He passed away. He actually passed a while ago, abroad." Zayne sighs. "It was an accident, don't tell Y/N."
He's... gone?
A voice echoes in Caleb's mind again:
"Hey, Caleb, that Y/N from your class..."
"Get lost!"
Zayne remembers something else. "Oh, right, you can't tell Y/N anyway, otherwise you wouldn't be asking me to dinner and rambling on and on about your past."
Caleb remains silent.
Lately, he keeps dreaming about when he was sixteen or seventeen, so he would occasionally chat with Zayne about it.
Zayne only ever told him the same thing: "Only those who are unhappy reminisce about the past; those who are full of vigor only stride forward. Caleb, let Y/N go. She deserves a better future."
Caleb feels a sudden, sharp pain in his heart, and his vision blurs.
Now, he couldn't let it go even if he wanted to…
But he had no right to not let it go…
“Zayne,” he says in a barely suppressed voice, “I regret it so much…”
The more spirited and arrogant he had three months ago, the more desolate and regretful he feels now.
“Caleb Xia,” Zayne sneers on the other end, “You deserve it. Don't play victim with me now, look at your sordid affairs. How to spoke to her in front of me, in front of everyone else? You think none of us notice? How you had absolutely no respect for your ex-wife as a person?"
“Zayne, I can't…”
Before he can finish speaking, Zayne hangs up the phone.
Caleb immediately dials him back.
After the third call, Zayne picks up again. A long silence ensues, until Zayne asks him, "Anything else to say? If not, I'm hanging up. I'm busy!"
Caleb chokes for a moment before finally saying, "Zayne, if I said I love Y/N, would you believe me?"
"Bullshit!" Zayne curses, a rare occurrence. "Stop your pretentious nonsense! You don't love anyone but yourself; you're a selfish, self-serving piece of shit. Ask yourself honestly, who do you truly love? Whether was your mistress or Y/N, you only love whoever you need. Did you really even love MC or only what her reactions gave you? I wouldn't have cursed you if you hadn't said that, but hearing you say it out loud disgusts me! You bastard!"
T + 136 Days
Caleb goes back to his hometown. Somewhere he hasn't been in many years. He traces the steps he once took to school, watching teenagers shout happily as they play with each other.
Somehow, he finds himself in front of Sylus' house. To pay respects, he tells himself. He hesitates for another second before bringing his hand up to knock on the door.
Two young men greet him. They can't be much older than 20. They stare at Caleb with the same, beady eyes. "Who are you?"
"An old classmate of Sylus." He offers, taking his high school yearbook out from his backpack as proof. "We played soccer together. I know its a few years late, but I wanted to come pay my respects."
The twins lead him down to the basement, where many boxes of Sylus' belongings remained. Caleb flips through old textbooks and worksheets, jerseys and field-day awards, CDs and comic books from their youth.
Something small and pink falls out from a book in his hands.
He bends over to pick it up: a single paper crane
Paper cranes?
He picked up the fallen origami bird, its image overlapping with his memories of paper cranes.
The page he turned to was a tutorial on how to fold paper cranes.
Sylus had written notes on it with a pen.
"Some silly girl is folding paper cranes for that Xia boy, and she won't let me help! How long will it take for her to fill that jar? Silly girl!"
"Haha! I secretly stole one from her pile! Mischievous act of the day complete!"
"Hehe, this silly girl writes something inside every single paper crane. I wonder what she wrote on the one I stole?"
"Written something?" Caleb frowns, picking up the paper crane from the ground and quickly unfolds it. Sure enough, there's a small line of writing inside: 'No matter what happens, you must be happy!'
Caleb's mind goes blank for a moment. He reads the words on the page again, then turns and runs.
The noise he makes downstairs alerts the twins, who ask him if everything was alright.
"Sorry Luke, Kieran. I have important work to do. I have to go back," Caleb says urgently, bidding farewell to the boys.
He drives nonstop to Skyhaven, taking the stairs to the top floor and enters his office.
He opens his desk drawer. Inside is a small glass box containing a paper crane.
He had buried all the other paper cranes with his grandmother, leaving only this one as a keepsake.
The unfolded paper crane he had taken from Sylus' house lies open on his desk. The handwriting was all too familiar to him—yours.
The other paper crane, which he had kept in the small glass box, was clearly made of the same paper but a different color.
He takes a deep breath, and without further delay, unfolds it with trembling fingers.
The orange paper crane reveals writing on it as well.
This one reads: Grandma, you must recover. Caleb only has you.
The same handwriting.
The way you write is distinctive, always rounded and plump, with a kind of innocent charm, completely different from MC's.
Looking at these words, his heart sinks as if it's been chained to an iron anchor, falling lower and lower into a bottomless abyss.
He had lost far more than he imagined…
Folding the two pieces of paper together, he finally breaks down in tears.
Y/N, I'm sorry…
He sits in his office, the whole world utterly silent.
If this were the end of time, how wonderful that would be; he no longer looked forward to waking with the sun the next day…
But he could only stay awake, waiting for the night to pass.
But the nights are too long.
His life is only darkness now.
T + 613 days
You carefully make your way onto the stage, eyes momentarily blinded by the sharp glare of stage lights. The applause is thunderous as a bouquet of flowers are presented to you from the dancers. Your thesis project, a fully choreographed piece, was being performed on stage by a full cast for the first time. You insisted on giving yourself a very small role, just a few small steps in the beginning as your leg continues to heal, but it was already more than enough to fill your heart as tears of joy threaten to spill from your eyes.
Caleb watches your brilliant smile on his phone, in the darkness of his room. It's true that in the 1800 nights he was married to you, he has only wished you the best. Now you're out there, accomplishing your dreams. How much he wishes to be able to proudly say, "that's my Y/N!". But he cannot. Not now. Not that he ever had the right to say it. He reads the comments on the live stream religiously and replays your small segment of dance over and over until his vision blurs.
Tonight, Caleb dreams of high school.
Back then, all of you were naive and full of youthful exuberance. It was a time of awkwardness and passion, everything direct and intense.
He dreams of Rafayel Shen.
Rafayel loved to draw. Caleb had found Rafayel sketching you in the middle of class, and tore up his drawing after school. The two ended up having a fight, still a sore spot in their relationship to this day.
He dreams of Sylus Qin.
They were playing soccer together, and you would watch them play from the most inconspicuous spot in the cheerleading squad on the playground, always leaving silently afterward.
Sylus puts his arm around Caleb's shoulder, his gaze fixed on your retreating figure. "Hey, Y/N from your class looks real sweet."
The young boy instantly knews what the other was up to, coldly announcing, "Get lost, I won't hesitate to beat you up if you mess with her.
Some boys would try to slip confession letters into your locker.
You never received any, because Caleb always stopped them.
Some boys would put treats in your desk.
You never got to eat any, because Caleb always kept them for you, glaring at all the other boys in warning.
It was once a childish but pure love, as bright and clear as morning dew.
Why did it change like this?
Caleb is lost in his dreams, unable to find the answer.
He lost you.
He meets Zayne and ask him why you were missing. Zayne simply says, "Caleb Xia, you scumbag."
He meets Rafayel, who grabs him by the collar, and the two get into a brawl.
He meets Sylus, who smiles and says, "You bullied her, so I hid her. You'll never find her now."
He sees many, many people, but you are nowhere to be found…
"Caleb!"
A clear voice suddenly rings out behind him.
He turns around and sees a girl with a bright smile perform several somersaults, appearing before him.
"Y/N!" He opens his eyes, but all he sees is an empty ceiling. He lies on the bed, his phone still clutched in his hand, battery dead.
A dream.
His Y/N is gone forever.
Tag list: @quill-for-glory, @flameo-hotman, @chyukiz, @royale-skeleton-key, @placeofsupercooltopics, @madnesslusy, @kiwiwiiiwiwiw, @younghideoutberserker
𝄢 summary. a pack of alphas stumble upon the princess running away from her betrothed. instead of sending her right back to the crown, they begin to take a liking to her.
𝄢 series warnings. NSFW/MDNI, DUB-CON, explicit smut, omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics, medieval au (reader is a princess), sub/dom dynamics, light royal politics, this could be seen as cheating but also not really, forced marriage, light angst, hurt/comfort, massive polycule, porn with plot, like this has minimal plot and lots of smut, but that’s what you guys are here for, group dynamics, loss of virginity, corruption, knotting, teasing, perversion, more tags tba.
𝄢 a/n. happy happy happy Valentine’s Day. what’s better than being a princess in a medieval time period AND an alpha trying to get in your panties? SIX ALPHAS!!!! this shall be the start of a (basically) purely smut series where sweet princess!reader shall be defiled each chapter by hot, ripped, primal alphas. each chapter will be marked by their specific content warnings. cross-posting on ao3 soon. dividers by honeyluvsw and dollywons.
playlist - archive
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX (tba)
…
series taglist (open—age must be visible on blog):
⚜ cw: MDNI! DARK, fem!reader, non-mc reader, warring states period au, historical au, warlord!sylus, second wife!reader arranged/forced marriage, marriage of convenience/political marriage, political intrigue, angst, DDDNE, it gets worse before it gets better, tw pregnancy, tw miscarriage, tw poisoning, tw manipulation, tw death, confinement, tw implied sa (not between sylus and reader), tw gaslighting, tw murder, hurt no comfort (for now), possibly OOC sylus, unbeta'd, unedited.
⚜ a/n: please mind the warnings, this continuation is going to be DARK. i kind of overdid it and went full game of thrones/historical drama. if i missed a tw or cw, please let me know so i can add them 🥹
part one ⮘ part two ⮚ part three (coming soon) ⮚ arranged marriage aus
six months into your marriage, mei's sister arrives at court.
lingyue carries a portrait of mei everywhere, her eyes perpetually red-rimmed with grief.
she's delicate, soft-spoken, devoted to her sister's memory.
she introduces herself as mei’s former lady in waiting and attendant to luke and kieran, apologizing tearfully for still finding it difficult to speak of her loss.
she tells you mei was everything.
how mei was beautiful, wise, and kind. the boys adored her. lord sylus loved her so much. they were so happy. she looks at you with pity, telling you how difficult it must be, from being a hostage to becoming sylus' second wife, and following such a woman like her sister.
the words land like small knives, each one precisely placed.
you assure her you are not trying to replace mei. she smiles sadly, agreeing that of course you couldn't, how could anyone, she just worries about the boys needing stability and familiar faces.
you have no reason to refuse when she asks to continue caring for them.
over the following weeks, lingyue is everywhere. at dinners, at the boys' lessons, in the gardens. always with that mournful expression, always mentioning mei.
mei loved chrysanthemums.
mei always wore jade.
lord sylus smiled more before mei died.
it's like living with a ghost made flesh.
but worse are the moments when you catch her watching you with something cold behind her eyes, there and gone so quickly you think you have imagined it.
you also notice how she tries to position herself with luke and kieran.
telling them stories about their mother, yes, but always with herself at the center.
your mother and i used to do this. your mother would want me to teach you that. when your mother was gone, who took care of you? who stayed?
the boys are polite but distant with her. they don't pull away when she touches them, but they don't lean into her either.
one day you overhear her speaking to them in the garden. her voice is sweet, cajoling.
you know i love you as if you were my own sons, don't you? if anything ever happened, i would take care of you. i would be here. always.
there's something in her tone that makes your skin crawl.
luke's response is cool.
we know, aunt lingyue. but nothing will happen. father is strong and we have our new mother now.
you see something flash across lingyue's face.
rage.
luke and kieran, meanwhile, are slowly becoming yours.
it starts small.
they ask you to judge their archery competitions.
you are fair, you do notlet them cheat, and actually teach them proper form.
they are surprised, most adults either let them win or dismiss them entirely.
then they start seeking you out for other things.
to help with their studies.
someone to practice strategy games with who actually challenges them.
kieran brings you a book about military tactics and asks your opinion.
luke shows you a sketch he made and waits nervously for your response.
you tell them stories about your own brothers.
the eldest who used to sneak you sweets. the second who taught you calligraphy and how to wield a dagger in secret. the third who was always climbing things he shouldn't.
the twins listen with hungry attention, they have never had anyone speak to them like this. not as the emperor’s heirs, but as children who have lost important people in their lives too.
one afternoon, you find kieran crying in the garden.
the anniversary of mei's death is approaching. you sit with him. you do not tell him not to cry, you just stay present. when he finally speaks, he says you remind him of her.
not in looks or manner, but in the way you make him feel safe.
luke overhears.
says quietly that their mother used to listen like you do. used to take them seriously.
aunt lingyue is always sad, always talking about how much the have lost, but you talk about what they still have.
you realize with a start that you love these boys, fiercely.
they may not be your flesh and blood, but they are slowly becoming your sons.
lingyue notices.
you catch her watching when luke holds your hand in the garden.
when kieran falls asleep against your shoulder during evening readings.
her expression is unreadable, it continues to make your skin crawl.
on the other hand, you and sylus continue your careful dance.
he brings you to every council meeting now.
his generals have stopped looking surprised at your presence or when you speak.
you have proven yourself competent and insightful.
you understand both empires, your fallen kingdom and his rising one, and you build bridges between them.
one night, working late over maps and census reports, sylus’ hand brushes yours reaching for the same document. you both freeze and he apologizes, you tell him not to. but he catches your wrist gently. his thumb rests against your pulse point.
he says he should let you go but does not release your wrist.
you agree but don't pull away.
for a moment, you think he might kiss you. his gaze drops to your lips, and your breath catches, and the air between you pulls taut—
then lingyue appears in the doorway with tea.
her eyes widen. she apologizes for interrupting.
sylus releases your wrist like it burned him.
the moment shatters.
he tells you it's late, that you should rest.
you flee before he can see the tears burning your eyes.
three months later, you discover you're pregnant.
it happened during one of the nights that duty demands you to partake in your marital bed, both of you trying not to think too hard about what you were doing.
but now there's a child.
his child.
growing inside you.
you are happy.
maybe this will be a bridge.
maybe this will make him see you as more than a political necessity.
maybe he will finally see you as a real wife, not a hostage.
you confide in your maid, asking her to prepare special teas for pregnancy.
you want to wait a bit longer before telling sylus, you want to be sure.
but then, everything begins to unravel.
it starts small.
mei's jewelry appears in your chambers.
you do not know how it got there.
you have never touched her things, but when sylus sees you with the jade bracelet, his face falls.
you try to explain that you found it on your dressing table, that you didn't take it, but lingyue appears with worried concern, suggesting perhaps you were curious, it's natural to want nice things after all.
sylus walks away before you can defend yourself further.
then there are the whispers.
some servants mention seeing you in the west garden at odd hours. near mei's shrine.
someone claims you were heard speaking ill of the late empress.
it's all lies, but they pile up like stones, building a wall between you and any credibility.
lingyue begins visiting you more frequently during this time.
always with that concerned expression, always bringing tea.
special blends, she says. to help you stay calm during these difficult times, with all the stress of the growing tension with your former kingdom's loyalists.
you drink it, desperate for any comfort, any kindness in the isolation growing around you.
you don't notice how tired you become.
how your body feels increasingly weak.
then documents start appearing with your seal.
correspondence with remaining loyalists from your kingdom. letters suggesting rebellion, betrayal, plans to murder sylus and reclaim your throne.
you have never seen them before.
the handwriting looks like yours but it is not.
the seal must have been forged.
but when the evidence is brought before the council, even you have to admit it looks damning.
sylus' voice is ice when he demands an explanation, his eyes harder than they were on the day he conquered your kingdom.
you realize with dawning horror that he believes it.
he actually believes you would betray him.
you insist you didn't write the letters, that someone is framing you.
he demands to know who.
who would have access to your seal? who could forge your hand so perfectly?
you don't have an answer. you don't know.
luke and kieran try to speak for you, but they are children.
no one listens.
one of the generals actually laughs, suggesting the princes are too young to understand politics, too attached to their new stepmother to see clearly.
worse, envoys from your former kingdom arrive.
they have heard rumors that you have been living as sylus' whore.
that you spread your legs for the conqueror to save yourself, not them.
they are disgusted and ashamed.
you lose all your hope and your own people won't speak in your defense.
you are confined to your chambers. guards posted outside the doors.
you are cut off from everyone except lingyue, who visits with false concern, saying she tried to tell them you wouldn't do this, but the evidence seems so damning.
she brings you more tea.
to help with the stress, she says. to keep your strength up.
you drink it.
you are so alone, so desperate for any kindness, that you do not think hard about it.
you are alone.
trapped.
and pregnant with a child you can't tell anyone about because now it would look like a desperate ploy.
a month passes.
a month of isolation, of morning sickness you hide, of watching your world crumble through the bars of your gilded cage.
there's a banquet but you are not invited, traitors do not attend court functions. but you hear about it later from whispered servant gossip. how lingyue appeared in stunning robes, how she sat near sylus, how she kept his wine cup filled.
three weeks later, lingyue announces she's pregnant.
you hear it from the servants first, the whisper spreading like wildfire through the palace. then sylus himself comes to your chambers, won't meet your eyes, tells you that needs to explain something.
he tells you about the banquet, he doesn't remember much of it.
he tells you woke up the morning after and lingyue was there, on his bed, naked.
it was wrong, dishonorable, but it happened, and now there are consequences.
she's pregnant.
she's claiming it’s nearly three weeks along, which would make the timing match the banquet, though you know enough about pregnancy to realize she should barely be showing symptoms yet.
but no one questions it. why would they?
mei's beloved sister is carrying the emperor's child.
he's taking her as a concubine. he has to, the council demands it, her family demands it, the child deserves recognition.
he is sorry.
but his apologies don’t fix anything.
sorry doesn't change that he's giving her everything you desperately wanted, a child acknowledged and honored, while your own pregnancy, his legitimate child, conceived in your lawful marriage, withers as a secret and unspoken in your womb.
you can not tell him now.
it’s too late
he will think you are lying, that it's a ruse, so you stay silent and feel your heart turn to stone.
lingyue moves into honored quarters for concubines.
she's celebrated, fawned over, treated as the mother of sylus' child.
she continues to play the role of mei's devoted sister perfectly, sighing that mei would have wanted this, that she always said sylus deserved happiness.
that it's poetic, really, mei's sister giving sylus another child, another heir that mei would have wanted him to have.
and then she begins her political maneuvering in earnest.
she influences the council with careful words and quiet suggestions.
the empress' territories should be redistributed as punishment for her treason, shouldn't they?
her people cannot be trusted, they raised a woman who would betray her husband. perhaps a harsher hand is needed. perhaps steeper taxes. perhaps mandatory conscription to the army to prove their loyalty.
several council members agree.
general zhao, who never trusted your kingdom's surrender.
minister feng, who lost his heir during the conquest of your kingdom, felled by one of your brothers.
others who see opportunity in your downfall.
but there are also voices of caution.
minister shen points out that the evidence, while damning, deserves thorough investigation.
general wei notes that the you have proven yourself competent in ruling, would a woman plotting rebellion really work so diligently to improve the empire?
the council is divided.
some hedge their bets, waiting to see which way the wind blows.
but the loudest voices, zhao, feng, and their allies, begin calling for your formal divorce.
not just confinement, complete dissolution of the marriage.
you are a traitor, they argue. you have brought shame to the emperor.
he should cast you aside and marry properly.
someone worthy. someone like...
well, if lingyue is already carrying his child...
the pressure builds.
every council meeting, the same voices.
divorce her. exile her.
some even whisper, execute her.
sylus refuses.
you are still his empress, he says sternly, still his wife.
the evidence will be investigated fully before any permanent decisions are made.
but you can see the doubt in his eyes. the way he won't look at you during the few times he would visit your chambers and the way his jaw tightens when the council mentions divorce.
he's considering it.
your people face harsher treatment under the new policies.
you watch your world crumble from your gilded cage, helpless to stop it.
the stress takes its toll.
morning sickness you can't hide becomes weight loss you can't explain.
you are exhausted, hollow, dying from the inside out.
lingyue's teas continue.
she's so worried and so concerned.
she brings them herself now that you are confined.
special herbs to help you stay calm, to help you sleep, to ease your troubled mind.
you continue to drink them.
luke and kieran notice you are getting worse.
they have been trying to visit you, but lingyue keeps them away.
it's not appropriate, she says sweetly, for the princes to visit a woman accused of treason.
but they are stubborn and clever. they sneak past guards, find the servant entrance to your chambers.
they appear one night, twin faces full of worry.
they announce that you are sick, that they do not believe you betrayed their father, that those letters are lies.
kieran says he knows your handwriting.
you have been teaching him calligraphy for months.
those letters are not the same. the characters are similar but the brush pressure is different, the flow is wrong.
luke says he has overheard servants who had claimed to have seen you in the west garden at odd hours are the same servants who started receiving new jewelry around the same time.
someone paid them.
you break.
finally, after months of holding yourself together, you allow yourself to break.
you tell them you are sick.
that something feels wrong.
you tell them about the whispers, the planted evidence, the too-perfect timing of everything.
you tell them you suspect someone is framing you, though you have no proof.
you don't mention the pregnancy. you haven't told anyone, not even your maid.
It's still too early, too precious, too terrifying to speak aloud when everything else is crumbling around you. when you still don’t know who is framing you.
but you tell them you are frightened. that you feel trapped.
that you don't know who to trust anymore except them.
they listen with identical expressions of fury.
kieran says they will help.
they will find proof.
luke's voice is cold, colder than you've ever heard from a ten-year-old, when he says they do not believe you are a traitor. they know you.
they will prove your innocence.
they promise to find the truth. for you. for justice.
but the next morning, before they can begin investigating properly, you wake in a pool of blood.
the baby is gone.
you lose your child alone in the dark, with only a frightened maid to help you.
the girl is loyal, at least. she doesn't run for the guards or the physicians.
she brings you sheets, holds your hand, cries with you.
the physical pain is nothing compared to the emotional devastation.
you have truly lost everything.
your family, your kingdom, sylus's trust, and now your baby.
the one thing that was purely yours and his, the one hope you had of a bridge between you.
gone.
you didn't even get to tell anyone.
not even sylus.
the baby is just gone.
you make the maid swear never to tell anyone. not the guards. not the physicians. not even the emperor.
no one can know.
they will think you are lying, making it up for sympathy. or worse, they'll use it as added evidence that you are unfit to continue being the empress, that your womb is barren and weak.
the maid promises through her tears.
she'll burn the bloodied sheets, she'll say nothing.
your secret will die with the child who never got to live.
when lingyue visits the next day, her expression of concern is obscene.
she mentions hearing about your unfortunate health troubles.
how the servants noticed you were unwell last night.
how she hopes you're recovering.
she brings you the same tea.
says it will help with the pain, help you rest.
you stare at the cup.
something feels wrong.
you can not explain it nor can you put it into words.
but there's something about the way lingyue is looking at you.
something about how insistent she's been these past weeks that you drink the tea she brings.
how she always watches to make sure you finish it.
how she always takes the cup away with her when she leaves.
you remember the taste.
slightly bitter beneath the honey and herbs.
how you have felt increasingly weak, increasingly tired after you started drinking it.
after she started giving it to you.
you do not know anything for certain.
you have no proof.
but your instincts, the same instincts that helped you survive the fall of your kingdom, that helped you navigate sylus' court, are screaming at you.
don't drink it.
you tell her you are not thirsty. that your stomach can't handle anything right now.
lingyue's smile doesn't waver, but something flickers in her eyes.
she sets the cup down beside you. you should try, she says gently. it will help you heal.
when you still don't reach for it, she sighs softly.
as you wish. rest well.
she leaves, taking the cup with her.
you stare at the door long after she's gone, heart pounding.
you don't know what's in that tea. you don't know if your suspicions are real or if the stress and grief are making you paranoid.
but you're not drinking it again.
not ever.
two months pass.
two months of slow recovery. two months of continued isolation.
two months of hearing lingyue grow more confident, more secure in her position as the emperor's favored concubine carrying his heir.
two months of luke and kieran sneaking to your chambers, bringing you small comforts, whispering that they are still investigating, that they are doing their best to prove your innocence.
two months of lingyue bringing you tea you never drink, her eyes growing colder each time you refuse.
then lingyue also loses her baby.
you hear the wailing from your chambers.
servants rushing, physicians called. the whole palace in uproar.
she claims she lost the baby, and this time, she blames you.
she sobs to the court that you sent her poisoned sweets.
that despite being confined, you somehow managed to smuggle poison to her chambers. that you were so consumed with jealousy and hatred that you murdered her innocent child.
you are brought to the council chambers immediately, confused about the accusations that lingyue has thrown.
general zhao demands your immediate execution.
minister feng calls for torture to extract a confession.
the voices from the faction that opposes your continued existence as the empress despite your supposed treason, grow louder and more vicious.
but sylus, for the first time since this nightmare began, hesitates.
he looks at you.
truly looks at you. sees how thin you have become, how you have lost your color, how utterly broken. sees the guards posted at your door, the isolation, the complete lack of resources.
his voice cuts through the chaos.
how? he asks. how could she have done this?
the council falls silent.
how could a woman confined to her chambers, with no visitors except lingyue herself and a handful of loyal servants, with no allies, no resources, no freedom, how could she possibly smuggle poison to the concubine's quarters?
general zhao sputters.
she has loyalists, she must have—
sylus's gaze is ice.
he asks him to name one.
name a single person who has access to both the empress's chambers and the noble consort's quarters.
name one servant who could have carried poison without being searched by the guards he personally stationed.
silence.
minister feng tries. perhaps youhad poison hidden from before—
sylus cuts him off.
the empress has been confined for months. her chambers have been searched three times. every gift, every item, every scrap of fabric examined. where exactly would she hide poison? and how would she get it to lingyue without any contact?
the logic is inescapable.
minister shen speaks up from the cautious faction.
he suggests investigating lingyue’s claims as thoroughly as they have investigated the empress's alleged treason.
murmurs of agreement from some council members. not all, zhao and feng's faction still push for your punishment, but it is enough to make sylus pause.
you watch something shift in sylus's expression.
doubt.
not doubt in your guilt for the original treason charges, the forged letters still seem real.
but doubt that you could have done this.
doubt that lingyue's convenient miscarriage is what it appears to be.
it's not exoneration.
not yet.
but it's the first crack in lingyue's perfect facade.
lingyue sees it too.
you watch panic flash across her face before she buries it in tears, claiming the trauma has confused her, perhaps she was mistaken about the sweets, perhaps it was just the stress of being a concubine.
she's elevated to noble consort anyway, a compensation for her loss, protection from future harm.
but sylus's eyes linger on her with something new.
suspicion.
the trap is still set.
lingyue still has her rank, her position, the council's support, though not unanimous anymore. sylus is still bound to her politically.
you are still the disgraced empress who allegedly committed treason.
but the seeds of doubt have been planted.
and luke and kieran are still investigating.
while you recover from the miscarriage, body healing even as your spirit remains shattered, luke and kieran work in the shadows.
they are ten years old and brilliant and determined and furious.
they whisper one night that they have found something.
inconsistencies in lingyue's stories.
dates that do not match.
servants who remember her in places she claimed not to be.
she was in the kitchen months before their mother died. the head cook remembers because she was asking about herbs, specific herbs, wanting to know their properties. medicinal uses. toxic doses.
the cook thought it strange but lingyue said she wanted to understand what the physicians were giving mei.
your blood runs cold.
they think lingyue killed their mother. and now she's trying to take her place, and yours.
it's almost too horrible to believe.
but it makes terrible sense.
mei died suddenly of mysterious illness.
lingyue insisting to continue staying after, a worried sister caring for her sister’s family, her children, her husband.
she's been here ever since, weaving herself into the fabric of sylus's household, waiting for her chance.
you tell them you need proof. real proof. their father and the council would not believe suspicions.
they nod with grim determination, promising to find it.
the proof comes from an unexpected source.
one of the palace physicians, an old man who served under mei, comes forward.
he's been troubled for years by mei's death.
the symptoms didn't quite fit natural illness, but he had no proof.
sudden deaths are not uncommon but these things happen.
until lingyue made a mistake.
she came to him, claiming pregnancy symptoms. morning sickness, fatigue, tender breasts. but her descriptions were wrong. slightly off. a woman who had never been pregnant, trying to fake the experience based on things she had heard or read.
when lingyue is elevated as a concubine, the physician lurks in the shadows, he observes, time had passed but her belly was still flat, her face had not changed, no other physical symptom that would prove the pregnancy's existence.
when he suggested an examination to ensure the baby's health, she became flustered, said it was too early, she would call for him if there is anything to report.
she never did.
then the miscarriage happened and she confined herself to her chambers after the incident at court, she refused to see palace physicians and let them tend to her, to examine her.
this pushes him to investigate further, loyal to sylus’ house, the family who had sponsored his education, the family whom he served since his apprenticeship.
he starts with quiet inquiries. old records.
he found the herbalist who had sold lingyue some herbs, the man had fled the capital years ago but the physician tracked him down, paid him for the truth.
he found the midwife lingyue bribed to provide evidence of pregnancy, who claim she'd examined lingyue and confirmed that she was with child.
he found the servants who'd been paid to plant evidence in your chambers, to spread rumors, to lie about seeing you in places you'd never been.
and then, going through the records of your confinement, he found something else.
servants noting you'd been unwell one night.
bloodied sheets that were quickly burned.
a maid who'd been given extra coin, he'd assumed for silence about some minor embarrassment.
but when he questioned the maid privately, she'd broken down.
you had been pregnant, she says sobbing, you had lost the child, the emperor's heir, while being imprisoned in your chambers. you had made her swear never to tell anyone.
the physician's hands shake as he compiles his final report.
the empress had been carrying the emperor's child. and she had lost it, almost certainly due to the stress of false accusations combine but there must be something else as well, he needs to know more.
but he brings his initial findings to luke and kieran first, knowing the princes have the emperor's ear even if you no longer don't.
believing that a father might dismiss an old physician but would never dismiss his own sons.
the boys read the report about your miscarriage and go absolutely still.
their father had lost another child, their sibling, their little brother or sister.
they lost another member of their family, this time someone they never had the chance to meet.
you had lost a baby alone in the dark, believing yourself disgraced, unable to even speak its existence aloud.
they bring everything to sylus.
you watch it unfold from your chambers.
hear the shouting, the running footsteps.
watch lingyue dragged from her rooms by guards, screaming about how she loved sylus, how she deserved to be his wife, how you were never good enough.
sylus' voice carries through the palace, cold with a rage you have never ever heard before.
he is demanding answers.
he is demanding the truth.
lingyue is brought before the full court with every noble, every general, every servant who spread her lies.
your maid, the same one who burned the sheets who kept your secret, helps you out of your chambers to witness what's happening.
sylus makes her confess.
publicly and in excruciating detail.
the physician testifies first, his voice heavy with old guilt.
mei's death looked sudden.
one day she seemed well, the next she was burning with fever and convulsing.
dead within two days.
but it wasn't sudden at all.
he'd been reviewing his old notes, records he kept of mei's health over the years.
the fatigue mei complained about in her final months. the occasional fevers. the unexplained weakness. he'd attributed it to stress, sylus was planning major military campaigns, preparing to conquer new territories. the palace was tense, busy. of course the empress was tired.
he was wrong.
lingyue had been poisoning mei for at least six months before her death. small doses, carefully calculated. building up in her system. weakening her gradually.
the timing was deliberate.
sylus was planning his conquests.
preparing to expand his empire. he would need an empress by his side, a strong one, a healthy one, one who could manage the palace while he was at war, who could bear more children to secure the succession.
lingyue saw her opportunity.
mei was tired from raising twins, managing a kingdom about to go to war.
if she seemed weak, seemed unable to handle the pressure...
if she died at just the right moment...
sylus would need to remarry, quickly.
maybe someone close to the family.
he already has his heirs, he has freedom to choose his second wife.
maybe someone who already knew the children, knew the household.
someone like his late wife's devoted sister.
the physician's hands shake.
mei likely didn't even realize she was sick. just thought she was tired. overworked. getting older.
the final dose, administered the night before mei's sudden illness, was massive.
it triggered the acute symptoms everyone witnessed. the fever, the rapid decline.
it looked sudden because the final attack was sudden.
but mei had been dying slowly for months.
he should have seen it. should have tested for toxins and poisons.
but who would suspect anything?
the court is silent, horrified.
sylus’ face is carved from stone, but you see his hands clench.
he had thought mei died of natural illness.
swift, tragic, but natural.
in truth, she was murdered.
slowly.
by someone she trusted, by someone she loved.
by her own sister.
but the physician continues.
there's more, he says.
they found lingyue's private journals when they searched her chambers.
plans. strategies. written in her own hand.
if luke and kieran could not be molded to love her as a mother, if they remained loyal to mei's memory, if they rejected her, she would arrange accidents.
tragic accidents.
children fall from horses. children eat poisoned sweets meant for someone else.
children disappear during hunting trips.
then her own child, the one she planned to have with sylus, would become the sole heir.
the court erupts in horrified shouting.
luke and kieran sit frozen, faces pale.
they are ten years old and just learned their aunt planned to murder them.
sylus' hands are shaking with barely controlled rage.
not only did lingyue kill his wife, she also planned to kill his sons.
you feel sick.
you had saved them without knowing.
by becoming their stepmother, by winning their love,
you had made them too visible, too beloved.
lingyue could not touch them without suspicion falling on her.
so she had tried to destroy you instead.
the herbalist testifies next.
tells how lingyue came to him years ago, asking about poisons. slow-acting ones that mimic natural illness. he had sold her what she wanted, he needed the money, did not ask questions. did not suspect anything.
the midwife admits she was paid to lie about examining lingyue, to confirm a pregnancy that never existed.
the servants confess to planting mei's jewelry in your chambers, to spreading rumors, to claiming they saw you near the shrine at odd hours.
they beg for mercy, saying lingyue paid them, threatened them, they were afraid, they are only servants and easily disposable.
then the physician presents his final piece of evidence.
the report about your own miscarriage.
the court goes utterly silent as he reads it aloud.
the empress had been pregnant. approximately two months along when the accusations began. she lost the babe during her confinement. the maid who attended her was sworn to secrecy, the empress believed no one would believe her. she was afraid.
every eye in the court turns to you.
you feel exposed. violated. your most private grief now public knowledge.
sylus doesn't look at you.
he can't look at you.
his hands are white-knuckled on the armrests of his throne.
the physician's voice is heavy when he concludes.
based on his investigation, the miscarriage was caused by a combination of extreme stress of the accusations, of the confinement, and the poison lingyue had been secretly administering through the teas she brought you.
the same poison she used on empress mei, but in smaller, more measured doses.
the court explodes into chaos.
lingyue is forced to confess the rest.
everything.
she admits she forged the letters.
bribed the servants.
planted mei's jewelry.
spread rumors through your former kingdom.
she admits drugged sylus at the banquet, there was no child, could never be a child because sylus did not touch her, did not dishonor her, nothing happened between them that night and she faked it all.
and why did she cause your miscarriage instead of stealing your baby as she had originally planned?
the court goes silent, waiting.
lingyue's voice is bitter.
because sylus would not exile you despite everything she did.
because he would not cast you aside even when most of the council is pressuring him to.
because he refuses to dissolve your marriage.
you were still there, still visible, still technically empress.
she could not steal a baby from a woman who was confined but not gone.
there are too many potential witnesses, too many ears, too much risk.
so she made sure you lost it.
the teas she brought you, gentle poisons, enough to weaken you, to make your body unable to sustain a pregnancy under the stress she was orchestrating.
she made sure your baby died.
and then she staged her own loss, blame it on you to gain more power, a higher position, protection.
If she became noble consort, she would be untouchable, and sylus would be forced to share her bed as the laws dictate.
her plan was perfect, with that rank and the council's support, sylus could never set her aside. and with you branded as a traitor and unfit mother, then he could never risk another child with you.
the council would never allow it.
she had won or thought she had.
until luke and kieran brought proof of her crimes.
the court sits in stunned silence.
minister shen, emboldened by the confessions, demands to know.
why? why would mei's own sister do such monstrous things?
lingyue's mask finally shatters completely.
she screams that she saw sylus first.
she loved him first.
she was fifteen and sylus was the most magnificent thing she had ever seen, strong, dangerous, beautiful.
she attended a border negotiation with her father, and there he was.
she fell completely.
but when marriage discussions began two years later, sylus only had eyes for mei.
mei, the legitimate daughter.
mei with her grace and beauty and proper birth.
mei who could be a real empress, not the bastard half-sister born to a concubine.
lingyue was never even considered.
not for marriage. not for anything.
just the illegitimate daughter, useful for nothing.
and mei knew, she claims.
mei knew lingyue loved sylus, and she took him anyway.
flaunted her happiness. bore his children. became his empress.
mei took everything while lingyue watched from the shadows, the eternal bastard sister.
so when sylus was preparing his conquests, when mei was tired and stressed and vulnerable, lingyue saw her chance.
if mei couldn't handle being empress during wartime, if mei died when sylus needed someone strong...
the legitimate daughter had her turn.
it was time for the bastard to take what should have been hers from the beginning.
the court is stunned into silence.
this wasn't about devotion to a dead sister.
it was about jealousy, obsession, and a bastard's rage at being overlooked her entire life.
sylus looks like he's been struck.
he never knew.
never knew lingyue had been in love with him.
never knew she harbored such hatred for her own sister.
you understand something in that moment.
lingyue did not love sylus. she loved the idea of what he represented.
the legitimacy, power, being chosen over mei for once in her life.
she wanted to take mei's place not out of love, but out of spite.
and she had been willing to murder everyone in her path to do it.
then lingyue's eyes find yours across the throne room.
her voice turns vicious, hysterical.
and you.
you were just another obstacle. another woman who would get what lingyue was owed.
it’s so much worse that you are a princess, the sole surviving royal blood from your kingdom that sylus had conquered.
it's so much worse that you are of marriageable age.
so perfect, so noble, quickly winning over his sons, earning his respect in council.
she had to destroy you before you became what mei was.
beloved, secure, and untouchable.
she said that she should have just killed you outright. that she should have used stronger poison in that tea. that she should have slit your throat in your sleep instead of being patient, being careful.
and she should have killed mei’s precious sons too when she had the chance.
her eyes are wild, manic. she didn't expect this. didn't expect her downfall to come from children.
ten-year-old boys who were supposed to love her, accept her, see her as their new mother.
instead they moved behind the shadows, they investigated. they found proof. they destroyed everything.
for you.
if she'd killed sylus's sons when they were smaller, easier targets, there would be no heirs left to challenge her own children.
no one to question her story. no one clever enough to find the evidence. no one brave enough to do this for you.
her voice rises to a shriek.
you ungrateful little beasts! i raised you! i cared for you after your mother died! after i killed her! and this is how you repay me?
guards have to restrain her as she lunges toward the boys.
luke's face is pale but his voice is steady.
you killed our mother. you tried to kill our new mother. you planned to kill us. why would we ever love you?
kieran adds quietly.
you were never our aunt. you were just a murderer wearing her face.
lingyue screams.
a sound of pure rage and frustration and defeat.
she should have killed them, she continues to scream, should have killed all of you. should have burned the whole palace down rather than let sylus be happy with anyone but her.
the court continues to watch in horrified silence as she completely unravels.
this is a woman consumed by jealousy, entitlement, and obsessive rage.
a woman who murdered her own sister, framed an innocent empress, planned to murder children, poisoned an unborn baby, and would have destroyed anyone who stood between her and what she believed she was owed.
sylus' face is stone. but his hands shake where they rest on his sons' shoulders protectively.
you see the exact moment he understands the full truth of what almost happened.
his wife, his real wife, his empress, nearly executed for crimes she didn't commit.
his sons nearly murdered in their beds. his unborn child poisoned before it ever had a chance to live.
his empire nearly handed to a madwoman who saw people as nothing but obstacles or tools.
all because he believed lies.
because he trusted the wrong person.
because he failed to see what was right in front of him.
sylus does not execute her quickly and does not grant her the mercy of a swift death.
first, he has her paraded through the capital in chains.
every street, every market, every corner where she spread lies about you.
heralds announce her crimes. treason. murder. fraud. attempted murder of the empress. conspiracy to murder the imperial heirs. poisoning the unborn heir.
the people throw garbage. rotting vegetables. stones. worse things.
lingyue screams the whole way.
screams about how she deserved to be empress. how mei stole what was hers.
how you are nothing but a conquered whore.
how sylus' sons should have died with their mother.
by the time they drag her back to the palace, her voice is hoarse, her face bruised from thrown rocks, her fine robes filthy and torn.
then he strips her mother’s family of their titles. her aunts, uncles, and cousins who had helped in her schemes, who also wants her to be elevated, who also wants a fraction of power that she had wanted to gain.
he confiscates their lands.
exiles them to the furthest borders of the empire, where they will live in disgrace for the rest of their lives.
for lingyue herself, he orders a public execution.
but first, the full trial. three days of evidence, testimony, witnesses.
every detail laid bare.
on the third day, sentence is passed.
death by the same poison she used on mei and you.
not the slow accumulation mei suffered, lingyue doesn't deserve that much time.
but the final dose.
the killing dose.
the one that burns and destroys in hours instead of months.
she's given it in wine, before the full court.
death takes six hours.
fever first, climbing until she's delirious. then convulsions. difficulty breathing. her heart failing in stages.
the imperial physician monitors it all, documenting symptoms.
this is medicine too, understanding how the poison killed, so it can never be used again.
so physicians will recognize it if they ever see these symptoms again.
you attend the trial but leave before the execution begins.
you have seen enough of her.
luke and kieran stay, not to watch her die, but to witness justice for their mother.
they are old enough to understand. old enough to need this closure.
sylus stays with them.
when it's over, lingyue's body is buried without honors in an unmarked ground outside the city walls. not in the family tombs. not anywhere sacred.
just dirt and shame.
her name is struck from all records except the criminal annals, where her crimes are preserved as warning.
you feel nothing but a hollow sense of finality.
mei can finally rest.
and maybe, finally, so can you.
⚜ LADs Masterlist | AO3
⚜ a/n: first of all, thank you so much for all the support for part one. i am so nervous about this. i think i mentioned in one of my fics that i am a huge game of thrones fan and i also enjoy historical dramas (there's a lot of got references i have added and lingyue and mei are also partially inspired by shin and lihua from the apothecary diaries). i love the schemes, court politics, and drama a lot that i may have went all out and added too much for this. i hope it is not too dark.
if i missed a tag for the cw, please please let me know!
Please let me know what you think and yes, there's going to be part three.
thank you once again for all your support and i hope you enjoyed reading. T_T
⚜ cw: fem!reader, non-mc reader, arranged marriage, prince!zayne, physician!reader, angst, unrequited love, hurt no comfort, one-sided pining, medical themes, regret, no happy ending, unbeta'd, unedited
⚜ LaDS Masterlist | Arranged Marriage AUs | AO3
ancient china inspired au where zayne is the second prince and non-mc reader is the fifth daughter of a noble house, brought together through an arranged marriage that neither had one wanted but one of you has been silently in love since the beginning.
you met zayne when you're fifteen, in the imperial medicine academy where your parents had sent you because they think you are unmarriageable. you're not pretty enough, not graceful enough, not talented enough in any of the refined arts. you are the youngest child and the youngest daughter, your four older sisters already made powerful matches while you remain the family's disappointment.
meanwhile, zayne is eighteen, the emperor's second son who prefers medicine than politics. they call him the ice prince at court because while he is brilliant, handsome, and smart, he is cold and only dedicated to studying medicine and research.
on the very first day of your studies in the medicine hall, he finds you reading a medical text too advanced for your age and upside down. he doesn't mock you, instead, he patiently corrects you, explains the concepts, and offer to teach you property if you are serious about learning.
you were.
and you fall in love with him that day. completely and hopelessly in love with a prince who only sees you as a promising student.
for five years, you study under him. he's a patient teacher despite being strict and demanding, and you absorb everything that the teaches you because you feel that you are finally good at something. finally, someone treats you like you matter, unlike your manor where you are only an afterthought for being the youngest child. under his tutelage, you become one of the youngest full physicians in the imperial medicine academy's history, brilliant in your own right, but you mostly thank zayne for his patience with teaching you.
but zayne has never seen you as anything more than a colleague, a protégé, a student.
because zayne is in love with mei, a commoner herbalist from the outer city.
she's everything you are not, vibrant, confident, beautiful, and naturally talented. you watch him fall for her over the years, watch the way his eyes would soften when she laughs, watch him find excuses to be near her, watch him fall into conversation easily with her.
everyone in the court knows.
everyone except the emperor, who chooses not to see it.
when you're twenty, the emperor issues a decree. zayne will marry. someone suitable, someone with noble blood, someone who understands and would not disrupt his work with the medical academy and the bureau.
someone like you.
your family is ecstatic.
you, the forgotten fifth daughter, the unremarkable child, will become a princess to a second prince. its the greatest honor they could imagine.
but you know where zayne's heart lies.
he is devastated and tells you that he didn't want this marriage. you confess that you know he loves mei and you've always known this, but you both know you can't refuse the emperor's decree. the wedding proceeds and you both follow your duty and consummate the wedding night.
life as zayne's wife settles into a routine. you are colleagues who happened to be married. he's never unkind but he never touches you except when protocol demands it or when you are both in front of the court and the emperor. you continue your studies and medical research, treat patients, and slowly die inside from loving someone who will never love you back.
then the plague comes.
it spreads through the port district first. a fever that burns, lesions that weep, a cough that brings up blood. nothing helps. people died by the hundreds by the first two months. the imperial medical academy and bureau becomes a battlefield.
when mei contracts the illness, zayne falls apart. you watch him destroy himself trying to save her, trying every possible treatment, standing vigil outside the room she is quarantined in. it breaks your heart.
then some of your colleagues whisper about experimental trials. someone needs to be infected intentionally, given controlled doses of different treatments. everyone is desperate and its the only way they can think of to find a cure.
you don't even hesitate and volunteer.
when the head physician asks why you did it, you only say that you all need the data and you are not essential to anyone. he wants to disagree but then you made him promise not to tell zayne until you have results that are worth showing.
they inject you with infected blood. within eighteen hours, the fever begins. you document everything meticulously in your research journal. every symptom, every treatment, every response of your body, every observation. the disease ravages your body while you clinically record your own death.
on day four, zayne discovers what you have done. he's furious, terrified, and desperate. his voice is sharp with barely controlled panic when he asks you why you have done it through the partition meant to separate you from the non infected people. you answer him that the bureau needed a human trial and someone had to volunteer.
when he tells you that you have sacrificed yourself without telling him with anger in his voice, you asked him if he would have let you proceed. the answer is written in silence, of course he would have stopped you, you were his wife. you smile sadly and responded that you are a physician first and foremost and he was the one who taught you that.
over the next few days, he tries everything to save you. new compound formulas, more intensive treatments, experimental combinations. he stands outside the partition and talks to you about research, about cases, anything except what's happening between you.
on day seven, delirious with fever, you finally confessed to him that you have loved him since you were fifteen. since you got engaged, even knowing that he wished you were mei. that you have loved him during the wedding night and any nights that he had done his duty even when he was thinking of her. that you have loved him every single day of your marriage, even knowing that he could never love you back.
silence followed the confession. through the haze of your fever, you see his silhouette go completely silent against the partition. when he finally speaks, his voice sounds broken. you laughed sadly and told him its' fine, that you never expected anything different anyway. that you just wanted him to know before you die. that you wanted him to know that someone loved him that much even if its just you.
he repeats your words "just you" as if they have wounded him. but you don't hear it, you are already slipping away.
compound e shows promise. the lesions begin healing first, then the fever breaks in other patients. it's working. the experimental research you are sacrificing your life for will save hundreds of lives.
but its too late for you. the internal damage is too sever. your organs are failing one by one. your body is shutting down.
your final entry, written in characters and barely legible and shaking across the page "zayne. not your fault. never your fault. be happy. that's all I ever wanted. for you to be happy. even if not with me."
you die on day twenty four, in the hour of the dog. zayne is sitting outside your partition, reading your journal entries aloud, discussing treatment modifications for future patients. he doesn't even realize you are dying until he looks up and sees your chest has stopped rising.
that you have stopped breathing.
that you are gone.
three days later, he finally forces himself to read your journal completely. that's when he finally sees everything he missed. the small notes scattered throughout your clinical observations.
hour 12: wondering if zayne has noticed i'm not home. probably not.
hour 87: can hear him shouting at the other physicians about mei's treatment. he sounds so desperate. hope the experiment helps save her.
hour 156: told him I loved him. shouldn't have. whats the point. but wanted him to know that someone loved him so much.
hour 234: thinking about the first day we met. i was so stupid, reading text upside down. he was so patient with me. kind. no one else has ever been that kind.
the journal falls from his hands as realization grips him.
you had loved him since you were fifteen. through several years of studying together, through the arranged marriage, through the years of being treated like a convenient background character in his life. you had loved him while he was so busy looking at another woman that he never actually saw you.
his self-sacrificing and brilliant wife who thought she was disposable.
he had been given the most precious gift. someone who had loved him unconditionally. who had supported his work. who had never demanded more than he could give. and he had thrown it away because he was chasing someone else. he was so busy at looking at what he couldn't have that he never saw what was in front of him.
you were right there. kind, understanding, dedicated. and he never saw you. not really. not the way he should have.
your research had saved mei. your research had saved hundreds, no, thousands of others. the compound that worked became the standard treatment dropping the plague mortality rate from seventy percent to fifteen percent.
everyone lived because of you.
everyone except you.
now you are gone, and zayne finally sees you, but it is too late.
END.
Sylus' Version | Caleb's Ver (under revision) | Xavier's Ver | Rafayel's Ver
⚜ a/n: i badly needed a short break from writing the part two for caleb's westworld au so here we are. i'm sorry zayne, i know i promised a ned stark x catelyn tully inspired au for you with a a happy ending but you showed up at the cafe today so T_T
⚜ summary: You were promised to Caleb Li, second son of the Lord of Akso, and you were beginning to love him, then war came, and Caleb fell in battle. Now you are married to his older brother Zayne - a cold, dutiful man who keeps you at arm's length. When he returns with a bastard son, you start to believe that you will be nothing more than an obligation to him.
⚜ cw: MDNI!, non-mc reader (can also be read as mc reader), fem!reader, arranged marriage, this chapter will be caleb and reader focused, heavy angst, YES HEAVY ANGST, character death, game of thrones inspired au, references to game of thrones, slight age gap, possibly ooc zayne, past caleb x reader, mentions of having children and marriage, 7.4k wc, unbeta'd, unedited
⚜ an: back again for another installment of the arranged marriage au series! zayne already had his own au but this has always been my OG plan for him and the reaction for the prince zayne and warlord sylus aus motivated me to write this as a full fic.
this is loosely based on game of thrones. there will be some terms borrowed from got and you guys might get confused with the way the ages are written (i based it on how grrm wrote the ages in the books, caleb and reader are both 16 at the start of the story and zayne is 20, but zayne x reader will start when she is 20-21 and zayne is 24-25), to make it easier to understand some of the terms, i added definitions after the chapter. i hope it won't get too confusing.
thank you again for the support especially to those who commented on the masterlist and those who are following my arranged marriage series. i hope you guys enjoy this new au. title was inspired by let the light in by lana del rey.
please leave a comment, like, or reblog if you enjoyed reading!
⚜ series masterlist ⮚ part two
⚜ lads masterlist | arranged marriage au | AO3
The first letter arrived in early spring, when the apple blossoms were just beginning to bloom in your father's orchards.
You were six and ten, old enough to understand what the heavy wax seal meant, young enough to still feel the flutter of possibility in your chest when you broke it open.
The Lord of Chansia's daughter would marry well.
You had always known that.
Your lord father had made sure you understood your value.
The betrothal with House Li was born of the anticipation for war.
For years, the Northern border burned from wildling raids and Lord Li of Akso needed men.
Thousands of them.
His own bannermen were already committed, their forces stretched thin across hundreds of miles of frozen wasteland, and he knew that it would only be a matter of time before the attacks would escalate.
So he looked South, to the noble houses of the Reach, who are rich in fertile lands and men, who had no stake in the Northern conflicts but might be persuaded to care.
Your father saw an opportunity.
Ten thousand strong, that was your father’s offer.
Ten thousand trained soldiers, plus supplies for several years, in exchange for a marriage alliance with House Li. It was an enormous commitment, one that would cement Chansia's influence in the North for generations.
When the ravens flew back and forth between Akso and Chansia, your father expected Lord Li to offer his heir because that was how these things were done.
The future Warden of the North for ten thousand swords.
Instead, Lord Li offered his second son.
Caleb Li of Akso.
Your father had been surprised, second sons were not usually the price for such a massive alliance, but Lord Li was a shrewd man. He had plans for Zayne, his heir, a Northern match perhaps, someone to solidify Northern power, not dilute it with Southern influence, or perhaps, he is still looking for a stronger match from the other Southern kingdoms of Philos.
And you…
You were just the youngest of four daughters.
Your elder sisters had already been wed to powerful Southern lords. You were valuable, yes, but not that indispensable, not the way your older sisters had been, so your Father accepted.
A second son in exchange for a youngest daughter and ten thousand men.
It was a bargain that satisfied both houses.
And then Caleb's first letter arrived, and it was not what you expected.
My Lady,
I hope this letter finds you well.
My father, the Lord of Akso, has informed me of the betrothal arranged between our families.
I confess I am uncertain of the proper etiquette for such correspondence, but my brother Zayne suggested that honesty might serve better.
They tell me our betrothal is a matter of alliance.
That is true, but I find myself hoping it might become more.
My father speaks of honor and obligation.
I would rather speak of the future, of what we might build together, if you will have me.
I have heard many things about your family and you, but I would rather know them from you.
Will you write to me?
Tell me of Chansia, of your family, of yourself.
I promise to do the same, though I fear the North is far less interesting than the South.
Yours in anticipation,
Caleb Li of Akso
You had read it three times, tracing the slightly uneven script with your fingertip.
He had terrible handwriting.
The letters slanted and looped in a way that suggested he had been hurrying or perhaps nervous.
Somehow that made it better.
More real.
Your reply had been formal, exactly what your septa had taught you.
But Caleb's second letter was warmer, and his third warmer still, and by the time summer arrived, you found yourself becoming a permanent fixture in the rookery, waiting for the next raven from the North to arrive.
He wrote to you about the North.
About Akso Castle perched on a hill overlooking the rest of the North, about winter roses that somehow bloomed even in frost, about the godswood where his mother used to pray before she died.
The godswood.
He wrote of it often, he tells you about the heart tree, the ancient weirwood tree with its bone-white bark and blood-red leaves, the hot springs that steamed even in the deepest winter, the sense that the old gods watched over everything.
The North kept the old ways, he explained though you already know this. The Northerners prayed to the nameless gods of the forests, not the Seven, not the new gods brought by the Andals when they invaded Philos.
We will be married there, if you will have it, he wrote. In the godswood, before the heart tree, with the old gods as our witnesses, as is the Northern way. I hope that does not frighten you.
It did not frighten you. It felt right, somehow, sacred.
He wrote about his father, Lord Li, stern and commanding, a good lord respected by his bannermen and loved by all the North.
He wrote about his older brother Zayne, wise and serious, who had taken over most of their father's duties even though he was barely twenty autumns old.
Zayne frightens people sometimes, Caleb wrote in one letter. He does not mean to. He carries everything so quietly that others mistake his silence for coldness. But I have seen him sit up all night with a sick horse, and once I found him in the library crying over a book of poetry from the Age of Heroes. He pretends to be made of ice, but he is more than that. I wish others could see what I see.
You had smiled at that, charmed by Caleb's obvious affection for his brother, but you have not thought much about Zayne Li beyond the knowledge that he existed.
He was the heir, the future Warden of the North.
You would be marrying the second son.
That was fine.
That was more than fine, because Caleb's letters made you laugh.
They came with gifts sometimes, small things, nothing ostentatious.
A pressed winter rose, its pretty blue petals preserved between sheets of parchment.
A silver brooch shaped like a songbird, because you had mentioned loving the larks that nested in your mother’s gardens.
Once, unexpectedly, a smooth black stone he had found by the river while they were hunting, which he said reminded him of your eyes in the moonlight.
I have not seen your eyes in moonlight, of course, he had written, but I imagine them often. I hope that is not too forward. Zayne says I should be more reserved, but he also says I should be myself, and I find those instructions contradictory.
You had kept that letter in your bureau, taking it out sometimes late at night to reread by candlelight.
You met Caleb Li for the first time in autumn, when your father hosted a gathering for the Northern lords.
The great hall of Chansia Castle was blazing with light, candles in every sconce. The Northern lords arrived in a procession of black horses and dark cloaks, and you stood at your father's side in a gown of deep blue silk, your hands folded demurely, your heart hammering against your ribs.
You saw Caleb before he saw you.
He was laughing at something one of the other young lords had said, his head thrown back, dark hair catching the firelight. He looked exactly like his letters, warm, open, alive in a way that made everyone around him seem dimmer by comparison.
When his gaze found you across the hall, his expression transformed into wonder.
He crossed the hall like he was being pulled by invisible strings, barely remembering to bow to your father before turning the full force of his attention on you.
"My lady," he said, and his voice was exactly what you had imagined, warm and slightly rough, like honey over cobblestones. "I... you are more beautiful than I dreamed. Forgive me, that was probably too forward. Zayne is going to kill me."
You had laughed, you could not help it, and his answering smile was so bright it was almost painful to look at directly.
"I do not mind forward," you respond, and watched color rise in his cheeks.
"In that case," he said, offering his arm, "would you allow me to bore you with terrible conversation? I promise not to step on your feet at least twice if we dance."
He had kept his promise.
He was an awful dancer, all enthusiasm and no rhythm, and you had laughed so hard you could barely breathe.
Later, when the feast wound down and the other guests had dispersed into smaller groups, you and Caleb secretly escaped to gardens where the night air was cool and sharp with the promise of coming winter.
"I brought you something," he pulled a small wrapped bundle from his coat. "I was going to wait, but I am terrible at waiting for things."
Inside the cloth was a comb, simple wood inlaid with small chips of blue stone that caught the moonlight.
"For your hair," he said shyly. "The stones are from the mountains near Akso. They remind me of winter roses, and I thought you might like having a piece of home. Of our home, if you will have it, if you will have me."
You looked at him, at this man whose letters made you laugh and sent you flowers and was so earnest it made your chest ache.
It is not love, not yet, but the beginning of it, the possibility of it.
"I will have it," you whispered softly, meeting his eyes. "I will have you."
His kiss was gentle and tasted like the wine from dinner and something sweeter underneath. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips.
"I am going to make you happy," he promised, his eyes full of warmth. "I do not know how yet, but I will. I will spend every day learning how to make you smile."
You believed him.
You met Zayne Li exactly once before everything changed.
It was at the same gathering where you first met Caleb, but Zayne had spent most of the evening in your father's solar, discussing politics and trade agreements and all the serious matters that second sons were not expected to worry about.
You had glimpsed him across the hall a few times, tall and dark-haired like Caleb, but broader through the shoulders, his face carved into more severe lines.
He looked like winter itself had taken human form.
Near midnight, you had gone to the library seeking a book, and found him there instead, standing by the window with a goblet of wine, staring out at the darkness.
"Oh," you said, freezing in the doorway. "Forgive me, my lord. I did not mean to intrude."
He turned slowly, and you got your first clear look at him.
Caleb had been right.
He was frightening, in a way. The stillness of him, the severity. No smile, no warmth, only that steady, assessing gaze that seemed to see straight through you.
"You are not intruding," he said. His voice was deeper than Caleb's, rougher, with none of his brother's easy warmth. "This is your father's house."
"Yes, but..." You trailed off, uncertain. "I was looking for a book."
"Then by all means, look."
He turned back to the window, dismissing you, and you should have left.
You should have grabbed a book and fled, but some stubborn part of you wanted this man to see you as more than his brother's pretty betrothed.
"Caleb speaks very highly of you," you said.
"Caleb speaks highly of everyone."
There was no inflection in his voice, no indication of whether that was criticism or affection.
"He says you are kind. That you pretend to be cold but you are more than that."
That got a reaction.
The slightest tension in his shoulders, a tightening around his eyes.
"My brother is an optimist."
"Is that so bad?"
"It is when it leads to poor judgment."
The words stung, though you were not certain why.
"You do not approve of the betrothal."
"I did not say that."
"You did not have to."
He finally turned to face you fully, and in the firelight, his eyes were a strange color, hazel-green, like frozen moss.
"My approval or lack thereof is irrelevant. The betrothal serves both our houses well. You will make Caleb a suitable wife, I am certain."
Suitable.
Not happy.
Not loved.
Suitable.
"I will make him more than suitable," you said, lifting your chin. "I will make him happy. I will…"
"Happiness is a luxury," Zayne cut in, his voice flat. "Duty is what endures. If you can give him both, then you are better than most."
He walked past you toward the door, moving with that careful control that made him seem older than his years. But before he left, he paused, not looking back.
"He loves easily, my brother," Zayne said quietly. "He gives his heart away like it costs him nothing. Do not make him regret it."
Then he was gone, and you stood alone in the library with your heart beating too fast, uncertain whether you had been warned or threatened.
You did not think about Zayne Li much after that night.
He was a footnote in your story, a stern older brother who would fade into the background once you married Caleb, moved North, and be granted your own keep and lands.
He would be the Lord of Akso someday, and you would be the wife of the second son, and your paths would rarely cross.
That was what you thought.
You were wrong.
The visits continued over the next eighteen months.
Caleb came to Chansia for the midwinter feast and stayed a fortnight.
You walked the gardens together every day, your septa trailing at a discreet distance. You talked about everything, about his childhood, your studies, the books you loved, the future you would build together.
In spring, you traveled North to Akso Castle.
The journey took three weeks, your father's men escorting you through increasingly cold and barren landscape. Septa Josephine rode in the carriage with you, wrapped in furs and complaining about the cold with increasing frequency the further you traveled.
Lord Li greeted you in the courtyard, older than you remembered from that autumn gathering, his iron-gray hair and ice-chip eyes seeming harsher here in his own domain. Your septa stood beside you, silent as a pillar, as he studied you with the assessing gaze of a man evaluating whether you would be strong enough for the North or his son.
"My lady," he said with a slight nod. "Welcome to Akso. I trust the journey was not too difficult?"
"It was manageable, my lord. Thank you." You smiled politely as you curtsied.
He stared at you for a long moment, taking in your southern clothes, your softer features, everything that marked you as foreign to this place. Then his mouth twitched in what might have been approval.
"You will need warmer cloaks," was all he said before turning away.
Septa Josephine was immediately swept away by the steward’s wife to see to your chambers and the unpacking of your things. The moment she disappeared through the castle doors, Caleb closed the distance between you.
He pulled you into an embrace that made the guards politely look away.
"You came," he breathed against your hair. "You actually came North."
"Did you think I would not?"
"I hoped, but hope and certainty are different things."
You stayed a month at Akso, learning the castle, meeting the household, spending every possible moment with Caleb. Septa Josephine accompanied you everywhere at first, maintaining the appearance of propriety, though she gradually allowed you more freedom as it became clear that the Li household was honorable.
The godswood became your favorite place, the weirwood tree with its carved face, the hot springs steaming in the cold air, the sense of peace that settled over everything.
Caleb brought you there often.
"My mother used to pray here," he told you once, his hand in yours as you sat by the spring. "She said the old gods listened better when you spoke honestly. No pretty words, no formal prayers, simply truth."
"What would you tell them?" you asked curiously. "If you spoke honestly right now?"
He turned to you, his expression serious.
"I would tell them that I am grateful that I was given you when I expected nothing, that I am falling in love with you and I hope, I pray, you might be falling in love with me too."
Your answer was a kiss, and when you pulled away, you murmured against his lips, "I am."
Summer brought Caleb to Chansia for the harvest festival. Ten days of celebration, of stolen kisses in hidden alcoves, of promises made under stars.
Autumn brought him again, this time for five weeks. Long enough that the servants began to whisper. Long enough that your septa began to frown at how much time you spent alone together, always clothed, always proper, but alone nonetheless.
"People will talk," Septa Josephine warned this time.
"Let them," you said, reckless with the certainty of your coming marriage.
She had been right, they did talk.
The younger, newer servants gossip like ravens fly, constantly, with no regard for consequence. By the time Caleb departed, your reputation had been questioned. Not ruined but tainted by the simple fact that you had spent too much time alone with a man you were not yet wed to.
It did not matter that you are betrothed to him.
It did not matter that nothing had happened.
Your father was furious, but you did not care.
"The wedding must happen soon," he told you.
But then winter finally came, and with it, war.
The raven arrived in the dead of night.
Wildling raids along the Northern border had escalated into organized attacks, coordinated assaults, thousands of raiders pouring over the Wall. Lord Li was calling his banners.
The war Chansia's men had been promised for was finally here.
Your father mobilized immediately. Ten thousand men, as agreed. Supplies, weapons, everything that had been negotiated.
Caleb came to say goodbye.
He arrived early one morning, just as dawn was beginning to break. A servant woke you up, urgently knocking, whispering words that Lord Caleb is here and requesting to see you immediately.
You dressed hastily, your hands shaking as you pulled on your robe over your nightdress. By the time you reached the great hall, your mother was already there in her dressing gown, Septa Josephine with her who was trying to protest when Caleb asked to see you alone.
But your lady mother took one look at Caleb’s face, exhausted, terrified, heartbreakingly young in his travel-worn leathers, and made her decision.
“Let them have this moment,” she said quietly to your septa, then turned as she saw you enter. “Be discreet, sweetling. Use the servant’s passage to your chambers. Make sure no one sees.”
“Mother–,” you began, but she cut you off with a gentle smile and a hand to your cheek.
“He is going to war,” she said softly. “Let me worry about propriety. You just…” Her voice caught. “You say what needs to be said.”
So you led Caleb to your chambers, through the hidden passages meant for the servants. Your heart is pounding, from fear, from the knowledge that this might be goodbye.
"Father wants me at Driftmere, the Northern border," he said without preamble, sitting on the edge of your bed like his legs would not hold him. "My men leave in three days."
Your stomach dropped.
The Northern border was too close to the Wall, too close to where the wildlings were.
"Zayne will be with Father in Anlan, at the Eastern front. They are splitting our forces. Zayne commands the cavalry, I take the infantry to reinforce the border fortifications." He grabbed your hands, held them too tight. "William will be with me. Zayne's best friend, from House Poole. Zayne asked him to watch over me, to keep me safe."
"Because Zayne thinks you are not ready?"
"Perhaps he is right." Caleb's laugh was bitter. "But ready or not, I march in three days."
You pulled him close, and somehow you both ended up lying on your bed fully clothed, his arms around you, your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat. The sun was beginning to rise outside your window, painting the horizon in shades of pink and gold.
"Look," Caleb whispered, turning your face toward the window. "When we are married, when you come North, some mornings the sun rises over the mountains just like that. Pink and gold, and the snow looks like it is on fire. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." He paused. "Except for you."
Tears slipped down your cheeks.
"Do not talk about after. Talk about now." You begged.
"Now I have to leave you," he said, voice breaking. "Now I have to march to war and pray I am strong enough, brave enough, lucky enough to come back."
You pressed closer to him, breathing in his scent, leather and pine and something uniquely him that you wanted to memorize.
"When you come back," you said fiercely, "when this war ends, we marry immediately and we will have children. Many children."
"Many?" He managed a small laugh. "How many?"
"At least three," you said, trying to sound certain, trying to make the future feel real. "Two boys and a girl, perhaps. Or two girls and a boy."
"What will we name them?"
You were quiet for a moment, thinking of the future you so desperately wanted to build.
"For a girl... Jasmine, after the flowers I will miss most when I come North."
"Jasmine," he repeated softly. "I love that. She will be beautiful and sweet-smelling and remind you of home."
"And strong," you added. "Strong enough for the North."
"Like her mother." His arms tightened around you. "And for boys?"
"You choose," you murmured. "They will be your sons. Northern names for Northern boys."
"No," Caleb said quietly. "Names we choose together, when I come back. We will sit in the godswood by the hot springs, and we will plan everything, their names, their futures, the life we will build." His voice broke. "When I come back."
You turned in his arms, looked up at him. His eyes were wet, his expression raw with fear and love and desperate hope.
"Promise me you will come back."
"I promise," he responded. "When this is over, we will have everything we have dreamed of."
"Promise me," you repeated firmly.
"I swear by the old gods and the new, I swear it."
The sun rose fully, flooding your room with golden light. Outside your door, you could hear servants beginning their morning routines.
The real world was finally calling.
Caleb pressed one last kiss to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips.
"I have to go," he said, though he made no move to release you.
"Not yet," you begged. "Please, just a few more minutes."
So he held you until your septa's scandalized knock came at the door. Until the world outside demanded his attention. Until there was no more time left.
When he finally stood, adjusting his cloak, you memorized everything about him, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, the exact shade of his eyes in the morning light, the curve of his mouth when he tried to smile for you.
"I love you," he said at the door, his hand on the frame. "Remember that. Whatever happens, remember that I love you."
"I love you too. Come back to me, Caleb. Please come back."
He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes.
"For you? I would fight through a thousand wildlings."
Then he was gone.
You stood at your window and watched him ride away, his dark cloak disappearing into the morning mist. The pink and gold sunrise he had described faded into ordinary daylight.
You did not know that the life you would build would be nothing like the one you had dreamed of in his arms.
But in that moment, you still had hope.
And hope, however fragile, was enough.
You did not know it would be the last time you saw him alive.
You received letters from Caleb when you could.
Not often, he was where the attacks were heavy, fighting day after day against an enemy that seemed endless, but when the ravens came, you devoured every word.
He wrote about the cold. About how winter at Driftmere that made Akso's climate seem mild by comparison. About watching men freeze to death in their sleep, about frostbite taking fingers and toes and noses.
The first winter of the war, you made him a favor.
You spent weeks embroidering a kerchief of fine linen with winter roses in blue thread, your initials and his intertwined in the corner, and you sewed a ribbon the color of your house along the edge.
You sent it with a raven, along with a letter.
For the coldest nights, when you need to remember that winter roses survive the cold. That we will survive, that I am waiting for you.
His response came a month later.
I will keep it over my heart always, he wrote. When the fighting is the worst, when I am certain I will not survive the day, I press my hand to my chest and feel it there. The winter roses you embroidered remind me that even in the deepest cold, beautiful things survive and that you are waiting for me. And that I have something worth fighting for.
He wrote about William, who had saved his life twice now.
Zayne chose well, Caleb wrote. William is the best swordsman I have ever seen. He watches my back the way Zayne would if he were here. I am grateful for him, even if it reminds me daily that my brother thinks I need protecting. He is more than Zayne’s friend now, he is mine too. He keeps me sane when the darkness threatens to overwhelm.
After reading that letter, you sat down and embroidered a second favor. Simpler than Caleb’s, but made with care, a small token of gratitude for a man keeping your betrothed alive. You sent it with the next raven heading North, with a note that says:
For William of House Poole, with my deepest thanks for protecting what I hold most dear.
Weeks later, Caleb wrote back.
William was moved beyond words when he received your favor. He keeps it tucked in his armor, says it brings him luck. He swears he will keep me safe if only to one day meet the lady kind enough to think of him. You have made a loyal friend, even if he is one you have never met.
That summer, you made a third and final one, a plain kerchief of linen with House Li’s sigil for Zayne. It felt like a proper thing to do, a gesture of courtesy for your future good-brother. You sent it without fanfare and without an expectation of response.
Months passed before you received any acknowledgement.
A raven arrived, not from Caleb, but from Zayne himself. The letter was brief, formal, but there was something in the carefully chosen words that felt almost warm compared to the last you saw him.
My lady, I received your favor. Your courtesy is noted and appreciated. I am grateful for your kindness. The favor is kept safe.
Zayne Li of Akso.
That was all, but somehow, it was enough.
When you mentioned it to Caleb in your next letter, his response made you smile despite everything.
I am told that my brother actually smiled when he received your kerchief, Caleb wrote. His men said they had not seen him smile in months. One of them joked that perhaps the Ice Lord was melting. Zayne apparently gave him extra watch duty for the comment, but kept the kerchief nonetheless. I think perhaps my cold brother is not immune to kindness as he pretends.
In another letter, Caleb wrote about the enemy more. About how the wildlings fought with a ferocity born of desperation, how they seemed willing to die by the thousands to push South.
In the second year of the war, he wrote about something he had forgotten to mention.
I realized I never told you the most important part of our future, his letter began. When Father grants us our lands, we will need a house name. I have been thinking about this for months, and I believe I have found it.
House Xia, he wrote. It means “summer” in the old tongue of the East. I know it sounds strange for a Northern house, but hear me out, you are my summer. You are the warmth that keeps me alive in this frozen hell. You are the light that breaks through the darkness. When I think of our future, I think of warmth and light and life, I think of you.
For our sigil, I think of a snow leopard holding a winter rose in its jaws. The leopard for the North, fierce, protective, and able to survive the harshest conditions. The winter rose for you, for the beauty that blooms in the deepest cold, for a life that we will build together.
Enclosed was a sketch, rough but clear. The snow leopard, powerful and elegant, with a delicate winter rose held gently in its mouth. The contrast was striking, strength and beauty. The North and the South, Caleb and you.
You cried when you read it, pressing the letter to your chest.
You respond immediately.
House Xia is perfect. The sigil is perfect. You are perfect.
When you come home, we will make it real. We will plant winter roses around our keep, and our children will grow up knowing that even in the coldest winter, beautiful things survive, that love, our love survives.
His next letter carried even more details.
Father has officially approved the name and sigil. House Xia, cadet branch of House Li. Father has yet to choose lands that he will grant us but when this war is over, we will ride to wherever our lands will be, and begin building our life. Our children will be Lord and Ladies of House Xia, carrying both our legacies, Northern strength and Southern grace.
The letters continued through the second year and the third, though they grew shorter as the fighting intensified. Caleb wrote of small victories, of grounds gained and lost, of endless cold and exhaustion. But always, always, he wrote of coming home, of the future you would build.
At first, you told yourself it was the winter storms. Ravens could not fly in blizzards and could not navigate when snow fell so thick it blotted out the sky.
It was nothing.
It meant nothing.
When a letter finally came, five months after the last one, your hands shook so badly you could barely break the seal.
Forgive my silence, my love, Caleb wrote, and his handwriting was shakier than you remembered, the letters uneven. The fighting has been brutal. We lost half of our forces in a night raid three moons ago. William was wounded, he will recover, but it was close, too close. I thought I would lose him and with him, the last piece of home I have here.
I am so tired, the letter continued. Tired of fighting, tired of watching good men die, tired of this endless winter that seems like it will never end. Sometimes, I wonder if we will ever see spring again, if I will ever see you again.
But then I touch the favor you made, and I remember that something is worth surviving, that someone is worth coming home to, that you are waiting for me. Hold on for me, my love, just a little longer.
You read the letter a dozen times, searching for reassurance you could not find. The tone was darker than any that had come before. The hope that had sustained his earlier letters had thinned to something desperate.
You wrote back immediately, pouring every ounce of love and encouragement to the parchment. You told him of the spring flowers blooming in Chansia, about how you had started learning Northern customs so you would be ready for your new life, about the names you had been considering for your future children.
You begged him to hold on.
Two months passed before the next letter arrived.
William saved my life again, fourth time now. I have lost count. There was a fever going through the camp, half the men were sick and some were dying. I caught it three weeks ago. I do not remember much of it. William says I was out of my mind for days, calling out your name, fighting men who were trying to help me.
I am recovered now, but weak. William watches over me like a mother hen, says he made a promise to Zayne and he will not break it. I am grateful for him, even if I am tired of being protected like a child.
The war feels different now, desperate. The wildlings are starving, which makes them more dangerous. They have nothing to lose, neither do we.
I love you. I will come to you. I swear it.
You wrote back with reassurances you did not believe.
You will come home. You will survive this. We will be married, and this war will be a distant memory.
That was the last letter you received.
You waited for the next one.
Days became weeks, weeks became months.
Every time a raven arrived at your father’s keep, your heart would leap, then sink when it was not for you.
A raven arrived on a morning in late autumn, when the first frost had touched the gardens.
It had been six months since Caleb's last letter.
Six months of silence.
Six months of telling yourself that he was simply too busy to write, that the fighting was too intense, that the ravens could not fly in the conditions.
Six months of lying to yourself because the truth was too terrible to face.
You were in your mother's solar, pretending to work on embroidery, when your father's steward appeared in the doorway.
His face was ashen.
"My lady," he said to your mother, and his voice cracked. "A raven from the North."
Your mother took the rolled parchment with steady hands, but you saw them trembling as she broke the seal. The parchment was edged in black.
Dark wings, dark words.
You watched her face drain of color as she read, watched her lips press into a thin line, watched her eyes close briefly as if in pain.
"No," you said, standing up so fast your embroidery hoop clattered to the floor. "No, what does it say?"
Your mother looked at you, and in her eyes, you saw the end of everything.
"There was a battle," she said quietly. "At Driftmere, Lord Caleb fell in combat."
The words did not make sense.
They were sounds, meaningless syllables that could not possibly mean what they seemed to mean.
"Fell," you repeated. "Fell does not mean dead. It means wounded. Injured. He could be…"
"Sweetling…"
"He could be recovering! The letter might be old, it might have taken weeks to arrive, he could be fine now, he could be…"
"He is gone," your mother said, her voice breaking. "I am so sorry. He is gone."
"No." You shook your head violently. "No, that is wrong. There has been a mistake. Check the seal, check the name, it is someone else, it has to be someone else…"
"There is no mistake."
"Then the information is wrong! Someone made an error, they thought they saw him fall but he was only injured, he is recovering somewhere, he will send another letter, he promised he would come back, he swore it…"
"Sweetling, please…"
"He swore it!" Your voice cracked, rose to something close to a scream. "By the old gods and the new, he swore he would come home to me! He would not break that oath, he would not, he is alive, he has to be alive…"
Your mother pulled you into her arms, but you fought against her, pushing away, backing toward the door.
"I need to go North," you said, your words tumbling over each other. "I need to find him. He might be wounded, he might need help, I need to…"
"Stop." Your father's voice, from the doorway. You had not heard him enter. "Stop this. He is gone."
"You do not know that!"
"The raven came from Lord Zayne himself," your father said quietly, holding up another letter. "He writes that his brother’s body was brought to him by the remaining men from Driftmere and that he will lay him to rest in the Li family crypts. There is no mistake, daughter, Lord Caleb is dead. "
The words hit you like a physical blow.
Zayne, who never lied, who was made of duty and honor and cold Northern stone.
If Zayne said Caleb was dead, then…
No.
No, no, no.
"He promised," you muttered weakly, and your legs would not hold you anymore. You sank to the floor, your hands pressed to your chest where it felt like something was tearing open. "He promised he would come back. He swore it. We were going to build our house, we were going to have children, we were going to…"
Your mother knelt beside you, pulled you close even as you tried to push her away.
"He loved you," she whispered. "He loved you so much. He would have come back if he could."
But he had not come back.
He had broken his promise.
He had left you.
Caleb was dead.
The truth of it crashed over you in waves, each one pulling you under until you could not breathe, could not think, could not do anything except keen like a wounded animal.
You do not remember being carried to your room.
You do not remember the maester being summoned, or the sleeping draught he made you drink.
The next thing you remember clearly is waking in darkness, your throat raw from screaming, your eyes swollen shut from crying.
On your bedside table, the black stone Caleb had sent you caught the moonlight.
They remind me of your eyes, he had written.
Beside it, carefully folded, was his last letter. The one where he wrote about the fever, about recovery, about coming home.
I love you. I will come home to you. I swear it.
He had lied.
Or the world had lied to him.
Either way, he was gone.
You reached for the letter with shaking hands, pressed it to your chest, and wished desperately that you could follow him into death.
They let you grieve for two weeks.
Two weeks of darkness and silence, of meals brought and left uneaten, of your mother's worried visits and your father's heavy sighs.
Two weeks of existing in a space between sleep and waking, where sometimes you forgot and reached for a letter that would never come.
On the fifteenth day, your father summoned you to his solar.
You went like a ghost, hollow and insubstantial.
He was standing by the window when you entered, his hands clasped behind his back, and he did not turn around immediately.
"Sit down," he said finally.
You sat.
He was quiet for a long moment, staring out at the gardens where you and Caleb had once walked together. When he finally spoke, his voice was carefully controlled.
"The war is over," he said. "Victory was declared four weeks ago. The wildlings have been pushed back beyond the Wall."
Four weeks ago.
Before you even knew Caleb was dead, the war had already ended.
"Lord Li fell in the final attack at the Eastern front," your father continued. "He died securing the victory, and William of House Poole…" He paused. "He fell with Lord Caleb in the same battle.."
William.
The friend who had saved Caleb four times, who had kept your kerchief tucked in his armor for luck, who had promised to protect him.
They had died together.
You felt nothing. You were too empty to feel anything more.
"Zayne is now Lord of Akso," your father said, and something in his tone made you look up. "The last surviving son of House Li. The last of his family."
The silence stretched.
"The betrothal contract must be honored," your father said finally, still not looking at you. "The alliance between our houses is too important to dissolve, particularly now. The North is in chaos…some of the lords and their heirs dead, succession unclear, the realm recovering from three years of war."
The words took a moment to penetrate the fog in your mind.
When they did, you felt ice slide down your spine.
"Honored?" you repeated. "Father, Caleb is…"
"Dead. Yes, but Lord Zayne lives. He is now Lord of Akso, and the contract requires a marriage between our houses."
The room seemed to tilt sideways.
"You will marry Lord Zayne instead," your father continued, finally turning to face you. His expression was set, immovable. "The ceremony will take place in three weeks, at Akso Castle."
"No." The word came out barely a whisper.
"It has already been arranged."
"No," you said again, louder now, standing on shaking legs. "I cannot. I will not. I was betrothed to Caleb, I loved Caleb, I cannot be given to his brother like…like it does not matter who…"
"Lord Zayne insists," your father cut in, and something about the way he said it made you stop.
"What?"
"The raven came from him directly, not from his steward or from one of his bannermen, from Zayne Li himself." Your father's jaw tightened. "He writes that the contract must be fulfilled. He will honor his family's commitment to the alliance. He expects you to do the same."
You stared at him, uncomprehending.
Zayne insisted.
Zayne, who barely knew you. Zayne, who had looked at you with cold eyes during that one brief visit and said nothing warmer than a polite greeting.
Why would he insist on marrying his dead brother's betrothed?
"Does he even want this?" you asked desperately. "Did anyone ask him if he wants to marry someone he does not fully know, someone who had loved his brother?"
"Want is irrelevant," your father said flatly. "This is duty. For both of you."
"I cannot," you pleaded. "Father, please. I cannot marry Zayne. I cannot go North and pretend to be a dutiful wife when Caleb…when he…"
"You will," your father said, his voice hard as stone. "You agreed to marry a son of House Li, that contract remains binding. The alliance must hold."
"But…"
"There are no exceptions. Your feelings are irrelevant. The questions about your virtue…"
"My virtue?" You inhaled sharply. "Caleb never... we never..."
"It does not matter what did or did not happen. It matters what people think." Your father's expression was unyielding. "The servants talked. You spent too much time alone with him. Your reputation has been questioned since. Lord Zayne is offering you his name and protection and does not care whether his brother bedded you or not. You will be the lady of a great house and wife of the Warden of the North. You should be grateful."
"Grateful," you echoed, the word tasting like poison.
"Many women in your position would be unmarriageable. Lord Zayne is being generous."
Generous.
As if marrying you was charity.
As if taking you to replace his dead brother was some kind of favor.
"You are selling me," you said blankly. "Like a horse."
"I am securing your future," your father stated firmly. "You will go North and marry Zayne Li. You will honor this contract. That is final."
There was nothing else to say.
No argument that would move him, no plea that would soften him.
You were a daughter of House Chansia, and you would do your duty.
Even if it killed you.
⚜ Def of terms (based on GOT wiki, awoiaf.westeros.org):
short note before proceeding: these definitions are already simplified but i also added links to the definitions just in case
warden - is the title given to the head of the great houses in the realms of the kingdom.
septa - women who are sworn to celibacy and sometimes serve noble houses as governess or tutors to the daughters of lords
godswood - wooded sanctuaries within castle walls that were set aside as places of worship to the old gods.
weirwood - as described in the fic, these are trees with white barks with red leaves and sap. weirwood found in the godswood are considered as heart trees and have faces carved on their barks.
old gods/new gods - old gods are the nameless gods that were worshipped in the North, the wildlings, and the crannogmen; new gods are the gods worshipped by most of the people in the South, these are the gods of the Faith of the Seven, Seven as in 7 gods (Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, and Stranger)
maesters - an order of men who are intellectuals (scholars, healers, and advisors) who the serve noble houses
wildlings - or the free folk are the people who live in the lands beyond the wall or beyond the northern border of the kingdom. they have no political authority or hereditary titles except for the leaders they have choosen. okay listen, i love love love the wildlings and i wanted to add the wanderers as House Li's enemies instead of them, but i can't find a good way to fit the wanderers in the story.
The Reach - second largest kingdom in Westeros (i am still unfamiliar with all the locations in the game so i decided to leave the name as is, Westeros is the name of the whole continent in GOT but in this AU, we will refer to the continent as Philos) also the most populated and the most fertile region. if you have watched GOT or read ASOIAF, reader's family is supposed to be based on the Tully's (iykyk) but for this au, i picture them as either the Tarlys or Redwynes.
⚜ a/n #2: i apologize to the people who expected the raf or xavier fics or the final part for warlord!sylus. i had a really bad case of writer's block for several days and i suspect that i also had a burnout, i was writing all the arranged marriage fics at the same time, alternating when i have an idea and i guess i ended up overworking myself. i am doing better now though. i am very sorry again, i don't want to make promises on when i can post them but they are coming.
⚜ summary: You were promised to Caleb Li, second son of the Lord of Akso, and you were beginning to love him, then war came, and Caleb fell in battle. Now you are married to his older brother Zayne - a cold, dutiful man who keeps you at arm's length. When he returns with a bastard son, you start to believe that you will be nothing more than an obligation to him.
⚜ cw: MDNI!, non-mc reader (can also be read as mc reader), fem!reader, arranged marriage, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, heavy angst, YES ANGST, slow burn, character death, game of thrones inspired au, references to game of thrones, slight age gap (caleb and reader are 16 at the start of the series but zayne x reader will start when reader is 20-21 and zayne is 24-25), possibly ooc zayne, past caleb x reader, Zayne and Caleb are brothers, pregnancy and children, unbeta'd, unedited
⚜ wc: tba
⚜ lads masterlist | AO3
⚜ part one - posted 03/07
⚜ part two - coming soon
⚜ part three - tba
⚜ part four - tba
⚜ part five - tba
⚜ tag list: open, please leave a comment, ask, or dm if you want to be tagged.
Sukuna with a dust allergy who as a result has no choice but to be a clean freak and a minimalist
Sukuna with a dust allergy whose family is forced to live in a home with multiple air purifiers and roombas.
Sukuna with a dust allergy who at first made you think he just had an unhealthy obsession with cleanliness because he was too proud to admit that dust is the one thing that could take him out. He only admitted it when you tried to break up with him over it.
Sukuna with a dust allergy who’s own children don’t believe him. They see you putting in your own effort to keep the house clean and think their mother just fell into the hands of an abusive man.
Sukuna with a dust allergy who’s stuck with them for a week while you’re off on a girls trip.
Sukuna with a dust allergy who at the grace of his caring wife, has gone over a decade not having to stress over wondering if he’s cleaned enough because you’ve always made an effort to clean too.
Sukuna with a dust allergy who starts to have a violent coughing fit one morning. The kids are scared, and rightfully so. They’ve never taken the allergy thing seriously and the dust has built up. It’s only an issue now because Sukuna’s allergy has gotten worse with age.
Sukuna with a dust allergy is wheezing. His throats itchy, eyes burning, body desperately trying to expel the particles of dust that got into his airway.
Sukuna with a dust allergy who’s hacking away when he realizes that his children are lazy and don’t bother to clean at all.
“dad!! what’s wrong?!”
“IM ALLERGIC TO DUST YOU DIPSHIT *UUUAAHHHHCCCCHHH* YOUR MOTHER SHOULD’VE NEVER HAD YOU *HHWUAA* GET MY FUCKING INHALER *AAAAA*”
Sukuna with a dust allergy who’s wife comes home to their two children sobbing while aggressively scrubbing the house down thinking it’ll make their fathers hives go away sooner.
You run into the master room to find your husband immobilized and on bed rest, unable to speak because his throat hurts too much. It’s better he doesn’t, because it’d be nothing but complaints and expressing his desire to put his children up for adoption.
Sukuna with a dust allergy whose children are so scarred from that event, that even as adults, hire professionals cleaners to deep clean their homes whenever you two come for a visit.
But even then, he still sits in the car and waits until you’re done inspecting their homes before reluctantly going inside.
His children have snuck out, gotten suspended from school, one even set the kitchen on fire by accident once, yet the one thing he’ll never get over is the dust incident.
Aphrodisiac Mayhem - incubi/succubus AU - Non!MC x Lads
Sypnosis : Nonmc x zayne where he and the lads li are all incubus and you are his normal human girlfriend that doesn’t know his true origin. Mc tries to steal you multiple times, prompting zayne keep you in one of his safe-houses that have all the other boys in it—all of which are incubi as well but he trusts them.
He shouldn’t have.
————————————————————-
You are (name) and you have a boyfriend—whom you love very much, his name is Zayne Li.
A renowned cardiologist with many achievements under his belt.Both of you are in a very happy relationship and you love nothing more than seeing his face every morning—well if you could catch him in time before he goes for his many ungodly hour shifts.
The two of you met in a cafe—when you decided to sit at his table during a full hour. At first he was cold, aloof but one dad joke had him cracking a smile and then the rest was history. he recalls it as one of the best jokes he’s ever heard. You think he’s making fun of you.
But sometimes It’s so strange…little things he does that never bothered you before are finally getting noticed—like how he never seems stressed despite being a literal doctor with a multiple appointments daily and surgeries back to back with paperwork stacked on top. Yet not a hair out of place nor a stray pimple. You can’t help but feel jealous.
His sleep schedule is another thing. You’ve always been the first to sleep and the last to wake. You’ve tried staying up late once, and all he did was read a book about heart diseases—reciting some of them to you until your brain couldn’t comprehend it and you conked out.
Then there’s his diet…or rather his appetite. not once have you seen this man pick up a vegetable, nothing other than a six pack….of macarons. You’ve gone on many dates that has him consuming only the sweetest things that would make your dentist worry for him. Not a single leafy green has entered this man’s lips from the moment you’ve dated him. Though he seems to have a deep loathing for carrots. An ‘Abomination of mankind’s domestication’ he calls it when you tried to trick him into eating carrot cake.
Speaking of appetite..there’s also his sexual one. You’ve never met a lover that’s as generous as him. His obsession with drinking you and having you come undone multiple before penetration has you unable to walk the next day. After care is also seen to and you’ve never felt more loved. But how can a doctor who often works overtime have so much energy to go literal rounds and not break a sweat?! These questions however are quieted down quick by the time his tongue enters your sweet hole for the nth time that night.
Of course, you try not to focus on these things. It’s still early in the relationship, besides who are you to judge? You might have some strange habits that he himself chooses not to notice.
More more thing concerns you. His—
Friends.
Or are they?? The pretty hunter who comes around too often—despite being her primary care doctor she’s seldom hurt when she arrives,mostly appearing because she found something you might like, a pretty necklace or a trinket from her travels here and there. Always pulling you away for a cafe date or a shopping spree fully paid by hers truly. Getting matching manicures ands pedicures cause she wants to feel..closer?—huh? She’s a bit too….friendly, zayne tells you that it’s normal and she adores have females friends. But it doesn’t explain the multiple times she’s had you and her naked together in spas,saunas,bathhouses etc. encouraging you that it’s normal for girlfriends to wash eachother—i mean we have the same parts there’s nothing weird about it!
Though she’s not as worse as her brother—Colonel Caleb xia. The first time you saw him you taught you were in trouble— almost fainting. I mean he was huge! 6 foot something with hulking shoulders speedwalking towards you like you stole the nuclear codes had you sweating until zayne introduced you two. Since then you’re never been left alone. Everywhere you go he shows up—a cafe? He’s picking up an order for mc but he can stay a few minutes for a chat. What about a clothing store? You’re just browsing than suddenly he’s there to pick out something for mc—only for you to leave the shop with bags of items he thinks looks good on you. he makes a quick teasing comment of sending him the pictures of you in them.
They were so forward with it too! You’ve asked zayne about it, worried he may take it the wrong way but to your surprise he assures you it’s nothing to worry about. They’re friendly.
Of course until they start getting a little too close—a little too touchy. Then Zayne begins to realize their true desires. To have you—sweet, delectable you for themselves. Of course he never tells you this. Doing so would have you asking question he really doesn’t want to answer.
Instead he has you immediately transferred to a safe house he shares with a couple of ‘friends’, of course this safe house was a huge mansion you’re ‘vacationing’ at. And no you’ve never planned a vacation so this sudden decision to move in with a bunch of strangers for a vacation muddled you. Of course that’s because you don’t know his true origin—
He Your Zayne Li was an incubi. He feeds off of your love and sexual desires both of which you have plenty, thank the devil. He knows what those two are planning and he isn’t about to let them have you.
Falling completely in love with you was not on his bingo card—loving humans was a natural thing for an incubi but loving only one was unnatural, as they must have multiple lovers to feel satisfied but ever since he met you—he’s never had that problem. Soulmate perhaps? He muses.
All of his friends are dangerously handsome and sweet. Xavier the sleepy foodie who works a job similar to mc, Rafayel-a famous artist you recognized (seriously how does your boyfriend knows these people?) and a mysterious tall man you only see glimpses of at night—like some kind of urban legend.
‘A night owl’ zayne tells you. At first it was awkward, I mean a bunch of hot, single men that your boyfriend has left you with while he did who knows what for hours sounds like the most cliche porn plot ever.
But they’ve been nothing but kind. Never letting you do the chores —Zayne would kill them with a hot plate of something delicious always ready when you feel hungry. Although you’ve realized that it’s either rafayel, Zayne or the mystery man who cooks as Xavier is banned from ever entering the kitchen from when he blew it up last time.
Falling into routine with them was easy, waking up to zayne making breakfast and then spending time either painting or having long philosophical conversations with rafayel about his views and his art that never gets boring or just watching him like you’ve done countless times before. Then an afternoon nap with xavier in the sunroom before having dinner with them all when Zayne gets home.
The mysterious man finally shows himself when you stayed up late waiting for zayne. He entered the living room and you’ve never felt as aura as dangerous as his since you first met Caleb.
Sylus finds you extremely amusing. He calls you ‘Little dove’ and makes jokes abot your ‘innocence’. You think he’s calling you a prude but whenever you ask him about it he just chuckles and waves it off—telling you it’s too complicated to explain.
You haven’t seen caleb and mc in a while as you been in this mansion for almost a week. It wasn’t boring despite you being stuck in it. With so many rooms and a large open property with a gorgeous garden to have tea. it’s hard to get bored. Honestly one of the best peaceful vacation ideas zayne has thought of. Albeit spontaneous.
Of course again you start noticing things again. Why do they never have proper sleep schedules? Xavier sleeps throughout the day, barely waking up for supper. Then the food that they made, it’s usually for you—your favorites. Like they never have an appetite to eat anything else.
You must be going crazy, maybe it’s the tea or there’s something in the water. You know it’s nothing. It’s suppose to be nothing. but you can’t help but feel something is clearly off. At night the house is cold—too cold. There’s noises all around and though you don’t judge these men for bringing in people for their nightly activities. But the fact you barely see these guests the next day is…concerning.
Like why is the house so empty and quiet? How does it stay clean? Where did Zayne meet these strange people??
Asking about it has them changing the topic before you even notice.
It only makes you more suspicious, you start doubting if this was even a real vacation—since zayne is barely around to even enjoy it with you. What is he doing out there?? He told he took a break from work yet you only see him at night.
The feeling of unease is something you carry when the clock strikes 6 and he’s stil not back, holding your breath at the dinner table until the door opens and he walks through.
Perhaps you should have been more cautious. As you never expected the kidnapping.
nanami yells at his poor girlfriend for something that wasn't even her fault :( (angst to comfort!)
wc: 4k || ac: @/thatsallitcheif || based on this req !
nanami was pissed the fuck off.
not the boring kind of snappy attitude he got whenever he was forced to deal with gojo or yuji, no. he was properly upset, his anger evident in the way his temples look ten times as tense as he swings the door to your shared apartment open.
today was... rough, to say the least.
some idiot in his business class had been assigned as his partner, a group project that was supposed to show just how much attention you'd been paying to the course. y'know, something he actually gave a shit about?
and that partner, god if he wasn't a useless prick. he skipped meetings, turned in half-assed work at the checkpoints, and acted like nanami would just fix it. like this seriously didn’t matter.
and then the feedback today? oh god.
it definitely wasn't stellar, definitely not the standard nanami holds himself to. his lecturer was pointing out gaps, weak cohesion, a lack of balance. just stupid little bullshit things that weren't even his fault.
nanami had sat there, his jaw close to exploding from the way he was clenching it so tight, knowing he couldn’t say a word without sounding weird and defensive.
so yeah, he came home with bucket loads of irritation and absolutely nowhere to put it. well, yet.
he wipes a veiny hand down his face as he scuffs his shoes off at the door, praying to god that nothing else goes wrong tonight or he might actually kill someone.
as he tracks inside, what other than the kamisama kiss intro starts blaring in his ears, the happy upbeat tune dragging against his eardrums, he realllly didn't need this right now.
he peers over to the couch and spots you sitting cross legged fully engrossed in the shower.
you were cute, but to be honest, he just wanted to go to bed. so, when you whip your head around and spot that he's finally home, he braces for the impact he knows is coming.
you hop up and dart into his arms with the biggest little smile on your pretty face, you clasp your hands together behind his back and pull him in close.
"ken! i missed you." you muffle into his chest, relived to see your boyfriend after a long day of free periods at home.
he sighs through clenched teeth, then half heartedly wraps an arm around your waist before letting it drop back down and slipping from your tight grasp.
“hey,” he mumbles, already tracking halfway down the hallway, leaving his poor, pouty girlfriend standing there all confused.
he doesn't notice though, the door to the bedroom is already in his sight and he looks at it like a finish line.
you stay cemented to the wooden floor, watching with a small frown as he pads down to the bedroom.
you tell yourself not to read into it. i mean, c'mon! he probably had a long lecture, he looks exhausted, and everyone has off days, after all. even your perfect boyfriend.
you smooth it over in your head before you overthink it to the point of tears.
you turn and follow him down the hall, keeping your steps feather light as to not irritate him further. "hey, baby? i made sushi earlier,” you say softly. “it’s in the fridge. i thought you might want some when you got home?"
he stops just short of the bedroom door. not to turn to you, not to soften up and cut the foul attitude, nuh uh. just to answer dully.
“i’ll have it for lunch tomorrow,” he sighs. “m' not hungry.”
the door handle clicks open under his hand, and your chest gets all tight and uncomfortably achy. he never turns down the food you make. never. even when he’s exhausted, he always eats at least a little. he always thanks you and asks how long it took to make, then tells you it tastes good even when the rice is overcooked.
you nod even though he isn’t looking and force a brighter tone of voice. “oh, okay! that’s alright.”
he stays silent, and an old habit of filling up conversation space before it turns awkward twists around in your gut..
“um,” you start, then stop. your fingers rub together nervously as you look away from him shyly. “there’s.. uh, something else i gotta tell you.”
he turns his head slowly to face you, his expression oozing with irritation as he answers curtly, “what.”
your thoughts jump backwards to earlier that morning. you were ironing one of his more expensive shirts after it had been crinkled on the clothes line. the setting might've been too high, because the unfamiliar scent of burnt fabric started wafting into your nostrils... your heart dropped when you saw the mark.
you swallow. “i’m really sorry. i was ironing your shirt. the one you wear to class sometimes? and i didn’t realise the heat was too high and i… i messed it up.”
his expression doesn’t change yet, but you can tell some cogs are stalling and jamming in that big head of his.
“i ordered you a new one,” you rush on. “it's the same cut, the same color. it should be here in a couple of days... gosh– i'm so sorry honey, i– i know it won’t be exactly the same but i–"
“you did what.”
your words freeze up in your mouth.
“you burnt my shirt?" he spits lowly, “i told you not to iron my clothes, [name].”
your shoulders pull in. “i know. i just thought i could help. i didn’t think–"
“–clearly.”
oh.
he steps closer. not into your space, but near enough that you feel the heat and anger pulsating off of him. “do you have any idea how expensive that shirt was?"
you nod, feeling the anxiety crawl up your back and down your throat. "yes, baby... that’s why i replaced it.”
“oh, but you didn’t replace it,” he says. “you bought a different one. that's not the same thing.”
“i'm sorry,” you say quietly. “i didn't know where–”
“you never know,” he cuts in. his voice is getting louder now, he's no longer being careful with his volume. “that’s the problem, [name]. you never know, and you still insist on getting involved in all of my important shit.”
you ears begin to ring a deafening hum. this isn’t how he talks to you. not ever. he corrects you sometimes, sure. maybe he gets semi-annoyed, but even then it's very rare. but this tone, this anger? it feels so horribly wrong on him..
“I was trying to do something nice,” you mumble out softly, the nervousness you were sure you'd shaken since meeting him curling around your head and trapping you in that shy vice once more. “i.. i’m sorry i ruined your shirt, kento..”
“yeah? well sorry doesn’t fix it,” he snaps. “sorry doesn’t mean anything when you keep doing the same thing over and over.”
your lips are getting wobbly but you manage to choke out a small reply. “but.. i don’t?"
he lets out a curt, poisonous laugh. “don’t lie. you mess things up constantly. the chores, my things, the schedules. i spend half my time fixing what you fuck up.”
okay, wow. that hurt like a motherfucker. you'd always been a little insecure about the way you weren't always the best at house work, but you were trying. you were trying for him.
“I clean,” you plea. “i cook. i try to–”
“no! you try, then you do it badly,” he snaps. his voice is close to shouting now. “half the time i redo your shit because i don’t trust you to do it right the first time. i’ve told you this before, if you don’t know what you’re doing, stay out of it!"
all of this over a shirt?.. your poor mind was reeling with what ifs. what if this was him finally throwing the cat out of the bag and telling you he wanted to break up? what if this was his way of telling you he'd be better off with a girl who was more capable? what if this was all a big lead up to him telling you you were never good enough to be with such an upstanding man like him?
each cruel word from his mouth only acts as a catalyst to these thoughts. you were incompetent, useless, untrustworthy. he doesn’t say them outright, but he might as well with the way he's berating you.
you feel so small now, your clammy hands curl into themselves until your nails are leaving little moons in your skin. you don’t raise your voice at him, you don’t interrupt at all, and you most definitely don't even think of arguing back. you’ve never been good at fighting with people, especially not with him. especially not when he looks at you like you’re an obstacle he needs to kick out of the way.
“just leave everything to me, why don't you?” he continues. “obviously i don't do enough. it would be easier that way since you clearly can’t handle basic tasks without ruining shit.”
your eyes sting. you blink hard, but it doesn’t help, like, at all. the hot streaks down your flustered face is evidence of that...
this doesn’t feel real. nanami is kind, nanami is patient, nanami listens, nanami's kind. the man in front of you is mean and cruel and doesn’t seem to see you as his loving girlfriend at all.
“I didn’t mean to make things harder for you,” you whisper.
he only scoffs. “intent doesn’t matter. results do. and your results are always a fucking problem.”
you want to dissolve into a puddle on the floor, you want to curl up somewhere and hide away from this monster disguised as your once living boyfriend. you don’t defend yourself, you don’t tell him how much effort you try to put in, how careful you try to be. you don’t remind him of the mornings you wake early just to make his day smoother, you don’t point out that he never used to talk to you like this.
you just stand there, and you take it. this was so unbelievable, so new, you didn't know how else to handle it.
and he just keeps on going. every frustration from his day pours out, redirected and sharpened, pointed straight at you. the partner who didn’t pull his weight, the criticism he didn’t deserve, the sense of being judged for things outside his control. it all lands on you instead, because you’re here, because you won’t fight back, because you look like you can carry it.
and you do. for a while.
your eyes go all blurry from the way tears prick at your lids, your gaze plummets to the floor and your hands start to shake. you hate how badly you're taking this, how he can obviously see that you're terrified but he just won't stop.
after it feels like he's gotten it all outta his system, he finally stops talking. the words dry up, leaving a thick silence behind in both his throat and the air. his chest is heaving as the anger drains out, replaced by a horrible, innate awareness.
what did he just do?
his head shoots up to look at your face wet with tears, then to your hands and the way they shake, to your eyes as they dart anywhere but him. his girlfriend, his gentle girl, looking like she'd just been battered, standing there all scared..
because of him.
fuck.
he opens his mouth to say your name, to apologise, to explain, but he never gets the chance.
because you push him away before he can, your hands come up and push against his chest, not hard, but forceful enough that he gets the memo.
“don’t,” you say. your voice cracks pathetically. “just.. just leave me alone.."
then you turn and dart the rest of the way down the hall.
the bedroom door closes behind you with a soft, careful sound, like you don’t want to make anything worse, even now, after he'd just rebuilt every wall you'd managed to break down with him when it came to you opening up.
~
“my sweet girl… please open the door…”
you'd been locked away in the bed room for a little over an hour now, hiding from him.
his voice comes through the wood much softer than of the foul shit you’d heard from him tonight. he sounds worn down and stripped bare of all the angst he'd been harbouring beforehand. you sit on the edge of the bed with your knees pulled up to your chest, staring at the door with a forlorn expression.
you don’t move and you most certainly don’t answer.
from the other side of the barrier, nanami stands with his forehead pressed to the wood, feeling like every bad person in the world all at once.
“i know you don’t wanna see me,” he says quietly. “i get that. i deserve it.” he sighs softly. “but please… just listen. you don’t have to say anything. just… let me say this, sweetheart.”
you don't reply once more, the apartment feels too big and roomy without you in it, even though you’re only a few steps away.
“i’m sorry,” he huffs out quietly, his soft spoken self coming back out into the open. “i’m so fucking sorry. i should have never spoken to you like that. not ever. i don’t care how bad my day was, i don’t care how angry i felt, none of it excuses what i said to you.”
he gulps down the stinging in his lungs and persists.
“what i said was so cruel. it was disgustingly wrong. it was aimed to hurt you, and i knew that while i was doing it. and that’s the part that makes me feel sick to my stomach.”
you stay silent, but your ears are definitely pricked.
“i took everything i was feeling and i threw it at you because you were there. because you wouldn't yell back. and that’s disgusting of me.” his voice dips. “i made you feel small. i made you feel useless. i made you feel like a burden in your own home.”
you press your face into your knees. your eyes start to sting all over again.
“but baby, you are none of those things,” he says a tad louder because he needs you to hear this part clearly. “not even close. i don’t know how i let that shit come out of my mouth when the truth is the complete opposite.”
he exhales slowly, gathering himself just to let go again.
“today's class was rough. just stupid thing after another, more stupider thing.” a pause. “and i came home already angry, already looking for somewhere to drill it.”
his voice breaks a little. “and i took it out on you.”
another fill of quiet and you still don’t make a sound nor open the door.
“i love you,” he mumbles desperately. “i love you so much it seriously scares me. im not usually one for relationships, but i told myself i'd try my best with you, because you mean more to me than anyone else..." his voice cracks like he might cry. "and tonight... i acted like someone who doesn’t deserve you at all."
his forehead stays against the door and his shoulders sink.
“everything i said about you not doing enough… about you ruining things… i don’t believe any of it. not for a second. i was lashing out, i was trying to hurt something because i was hurt.”
he lets out a strangled sound that might of been a laugh if it didn’t flatline only a second after sounding.
“you cook for me every single day. you make food that reminds me to slow down and actually eat instead of skipping meals like an idiot. you clean even when i tell you not to worry about it. you organise my class notes when i forget. you remember my deadlines better than i do. you wake up early just to see me off with a smile like i’m the best part of your morning.”
your fingers shake into the blanket beneath you.
“you ironed that shirt because you wanted to help me,” he continues. “because you thought about me while i wasn’t even home. and i stood there and tore you apart for it.”
his voice drops lower. “i’m appalled by myself. truly. i never wanted to be the kind of man who raises his voice at you. i never wanted to be the reason you look scared in your own house.”
he shifts on the floor outside, the faint sound of him sitting down against the door.
“you do so much for me,” he says softly. “you do more than i made it out to look. you make this place feel like a home, you make me feel so steady when everything else is a chaotic mess. and i stood there and told you that what you do doesn't matter..."
his hand lifts and presses flat again to the door, right where your back would be if you were standing there.
“i am so, so sorry my love."
his apology pours through the door and it feels earnest and aching, but it doesn’t erase what’s already been said. the words he used still sit under your skin, sharp and lodged deep in your pumping arteries.
outside, nanami closes his eyes with a deep breath, he knows there’s no guarantee you’ll forgive him. he knows apologies don’t rewind time, and he knows he might have undone months, maybe years, of trust he'd built between the two of you, especially with such a shy girl, in a single night.
his throbbing head drifts softly to the first time he met you. you were timid, you spoke softly and avoided all of his eye contact, you were careful with everything you did. he remembers promising himself he’d never be another voice that made you shrink away like a snail into its shell.
yet tonight, he was 10x worse than that.
he stays there, back against the door, replaying every sentence he'd spat down at you. every moment he could have stopped and didn’t. every chance he had to walk away instead of cutting you down.
“i’ll wait,” he says quietly, not sure if you’re still listening. “as long as you need. i’m not going anywhere.”
...
the door clicks, then slides open gently leaving nanami's back without a rest.
"baby?" he flicks his head around, now looking up at a very sad, yet very pretty girl.
he practically jumps to his feet, flattening down his shirt and running a hand through his hair.
“are you okay?” he asks quietly like he’s afraid the question alone might do some more irreversible damage.
you can't muster up and answer, you don't try to tell him something you're not even sure of yourself, so you stay quiet looking up into his solemn eyes.
he spots a dried track of salt running down your cheek and his arm reaches up instinctively to wipe it away. after, you gently push his arm away, but too keen on him thinking he can touch you just yet.
“i’m fine,” you say. your voice is steady, even if it doesn’t quite match how you feel. “really.”
he nods, even though it’s obvious he doesn’t believe you, not one bit. he drops his hand back to his side like he’s been reminded of his place.
“i’m sorry,” he chirps again. “i know i already said it. i just… i need you to know i mean it.”
the way nanami looked right now would send your past self into a coma. he was shrunk into himself, his eyes were hollow from stressing out over you, and his voice was shaken and impossibly weak. still. even if he was sorry, the fact that he'd done what he did still remained.
“i don’t forgive you,” you say honestly.
he flinches, just a little. but he doesn’t interrupt.
“not yet,” you add. “but i don’t want to shut you out either. i just… i need some space from what you said.”
he lets out a big exhale with relief and guilt all tangled together. “that’s more than okay,” he says. “i understand, honey. completely.”
he steps forward then, giving you time to move away if you want to. when you don’t, his big, grounding arms slither around your shoulders and hold you tenderly against his chest.
you let yourself melt into him, after this hell of a night you needed some tlc, even if it was from the very root of your discomfort.
“i’m taking tomorrow off,” he says softly, chin resting near your hair. “no class, or homework, nothing. m' gonna spoil you, baby. i promise you."
you pull away to look up at him. “ken., you don’t have to do that.”
he gives a small shake of his head. “i know. this isn’t about getting back on your good side.” his mouth curves into something gentle. “i just want to. i want to spend the day with you. i want to make it a good one after all of the pain i just put you through.”
you shyly mumble, “you don’t need to spoil me.”
“yes, but i want to,” he replies simply. “please, let me.”
his hands come up to frame your face, the pass of his thumbs resting along your cheeks as he strokes lines down where your tears would of fallen.
“i hate that i made your pretty little face look like this,” he murmurs. “i hate that i put that look in your eyes. you deserve softness, my love...not that..”
your lips inch upwards into a small smile despite the situation, and you look him in the eye for half a second.
he notices right away and of course, his own smile follows gently.
“there it is,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your flushed cheem. “that smile. i love that smile.”
he leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, his stubble tickling your chin.
“i’m sorry,” he whispers again, another kiss following. “i’m so sorry.”
he guides you back toward the bedroom with a hand at your back, he helps you sit on the bed, then gently encourages you to lie back. his movements are nice and kind, so attentive, he’s really making sure every step feels safe and familiar.
he leans his big muscular body over yours as he peppers small kisses over your delicate skin.
“i’ll never talk to you like that again, okay?” he says quietly between kisses. “never. i don’t care what kind of day i’ve had, you are not where my anger belongs, and i am so sorry for ever getting that mixed up."
you look up at him with shiny eyes. “you.. you really scared me,” you admit.
his expression softens further, if that’s even possible at this point. “i know. and i hate that. i swear to you, i will spend every day making sure you never feel like that with me ever again.”
he presses his forehead to yours, “you’re not a burden,” he insists. “you’re not useless. you’re the best part of my life, [name]. and i am so grateful you didn’t walk away from me tonight even though you had every right to. hell, you still do."
you reach up, fingers curling lightly into his shirt. “i just… need time.”
he nods. “take all of it. anything you need. i’ll be right here.”
pulling you into his side after rolling over, his arm rests tightly around you in such a way that feels protective without being overwhelming and possessive.
“tomorrow, i’ll take you wherever you want. we’ll eat whatever you want. we’ll do whatever you want, we'll do nothing if that’s what you need.” he assures you, sighing contently into your neck.
you let go of a small "mhm." in response, your sore, puffy eyes finally starting to close.
“thank you,” you whisper.
he kisses your hair. “always.”
he might of been an asshole who misplaced his anger, and he might of been the single most asshole-ish guy in the universe tonight, but when a man like nanami makes a mistake? you best belive he never, ever makes it again.
that's why you stay curled up in his arms as he strokes your back gently. you could tell he meant every word of the apology, and you knew that this was a one time thing.
nanami wasn't the prefect boyfriend, but after that night, he promised himself he'd be the closest thing to it. for you, his sweet, gentle girl.
A/N first request done, 9 to go ! mean nanami is so yum i lava him 🤞🏼
a/n: here is Zayne's part! i hope you guys like it, gonna start working on sylus' soon, once im done drowning in assignments 😵💫
divider creds: @/cafekitsune
Tags: angst, happy ending, female pronouns, reader is not MC, female pronouns, cursing, reader is on their period, use of pet names (honey, my love), mentions of feeling insecure
word count: 3.4k
masterlist
Xavier Rafayel Sylus Caleb
Who knew that one could feel lonely even when they were with someone.
You were at Zayne's place for the weekend, wanting to spend some quality time with him, which is very rare with your conflicting schedules but you guys have always made it work somehow.
With his busy schedule you were never the one to get upset about him forgetting a few dates, he always managed to make it up to you.
You always kept quiet about your birthday, never too crazy about getting a lot of attention on just one specific day out of the year. You just liked spending your birthday with your loved ones doing something simple and eating some cake.
You were sprawled out on the couch, your mind giving up from all the paperwork you had to do. Being a business owner was no easy work, the endless amount of paperwork and business meetings always left your head reeling.
You had decided to take a much needed break, and that's how you ended up on the couch.
Bored out of your mind you scrolled through you social media, coming across an adorable video of a cat, you were about to send it to Zayne when you decided it would be more fun to show it to him in person, that way you could also get him to take a break with you too.
Getting up, you made your to his study. You saw him focused on the screen, typing away like a man on a mission.
He noticed you lingering by the door and beckoned you over to him. Happily making your way over you show him your phone screen.
A small smile makes it's way onto his face and the sight of the cat.
"Take a short break with me. You've been cooped up in here for hours."
You grabbed his chair and turned it so it was facing you and not his computer screen. Zayne opened his mouth to reject your offer but you were one step ahead of him.
"I have some of your favourite desserts in the kitchen."
He let out a small chuckle, grabbing your hand and taking you to the kitchen where his desserts await him.
You giggled at how cute he was, always ready to chow down on dessert.
You guys were silently enjoying the desserts together, his presence bringing you comfort.
But what would life be if it didn't interrupt your time together.
Zayne's pager went off. You let out a sigh of disappointed when he gave you that look that said 'I'm sorry but I have to go,' he kissed your forehead and quickly got ready to go to the hospital.
You walked him to the door, pulling him in for a quick kiss before bidding farewell to your ever so busy boyfriend.
The house was no even more quiet than it was before, you didn't want to be upset about being alone on one of your very rare work from home days.
If you thought your day couldn't get any better, you were in for a treat.
You felt all too familiar pain in your lower abdomen.
Letting out a little scream of annoyance, you made your way to the room you and Zayne share. Grabbing a shirt out of his closet and a pair of comfy sweats, you made your way to the shower.
●・○・●・○・●・
The shower was exactly what you needed.
Zayne, being the ever caring boyfriend, always had the bathroom stocked with all your feminine necessities for situations like this.
You dried up your hair and went straight to the bed, wanting to snuggle into the sheets.
You shot your secretary a message, she would handle everything in your absence.
Going to be spending the next few days with Zayne. Also just got my period so I'll be away from work, call me if there's anything urgent. If not, I expect you to handle everything.
Putting your phone down, you got comfortable and let sleep take over. It was nice and peaceful, almost like the calm before the storm.
●・○・●・○・●・
The next day you woke up to Zayne's side of the bed being cold, indicating that he had yet to return from work.
Letting out a sigh of disappointment you decided to freshen up and make some breakfast.
As you walked to the kitchen your eyes caught the date.
Oh, it's my birthday today.
You let a small smile grace your face, knowing that you and Zayne would at least spend the day together when he gets back, he always makes sure you're at the forefront of his priorities, outside of work that is.
You turned on some music and started humming along as you maneuvered around the kitchen. Just as you finished cooking you heard the door open.
You peeked your head out the kitchen and noticed Zayne taking off his shoes and coat. You made your way towards him but he just rushed off to your shared bedroom, not even a word of a greeting to you.
"What the heck was that?"
You were confused, you know Zayne had his off days but he wouldn't go as far as to you ignore you.
Following him to the room, you found him seated at the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.
Carefully making your way over to him, you softly called out to him.
"Zayne? Are you doing ok honey?"
You knelt in front of him, trying to get a look at his face. Reaching up you tried to move his hands from his face, but you were taken aback by the way he flinched away from your touch.
He got up from his spot and made his way to the bathroom, you were stuck in your spot for a moment before you jumped up and followed him.
"Zayne tell me what's wrong."
You asked, and what you got in response was something you never expected from him.
"Can you just leave me alone right now? I don't need you following me around like a lost puppy."
His voice was cold but you still pushed a bit, not wanting to give up.
"I just wanted to know—"
"I need you to stop talking already. I've had a long night and I'd prefer if I could just have some peace and quiet for once."
He cut you off, and as much as you would hate to admit it, you felt hurt by his words.
Without another word, you quietly left his room and went back to the kitchen.
You tried to eat the breakfast you made but your appetite was ruined. To make matters worse your cramps came back full force, you clutched your stomach in pain, silently cursing the gods for making you a woman.
Great, just great. Could this day get any worse?
Famous last words.
●・○・●・○・●・
You later got a call from your assistant about some urgent matters.
Apparently, some of your board of directors were colluding with your rival company and selling confidential information about a product that was yet to be released to the public, mainly due to the fact that it still had major faults that could be damaging.
You made yourself at home in the guest bedroom, not wanting to see Zayne in fear he might get upset at you again.
You were a strong and independent business woman, but at the end of the day you were still just a young woman still learning to navigate through life. Zayne's words had you feeling sad and a bit insecure, your mind constantly bouncing back and forth between finding a solution for the damage the information leak will cause your company and the fact that you might just be an inconvenience to Zayne.
Sighing, you decided to grab your bags and head to your apartment instead. Knowing if you stuck around here any longer you might just fall into a deeper pit of despair.
●・○・●・○・●・
A couple of hours had passed by and not once did Zayne message or call you.
So much for not falling into a deeper pit of despair.
Your period was making your emotions ten times worse than they already were.
You sat on your couch, you felt so lonely. Your day was just not going well, and you didn't even have any hopes that it would get better. It was just one problem after another.
You felt that familiar sting in your eyes, and instead of holding it in like you normally do, you let it all out.
Lately you've been having such bad days, it was like someone put some evil eye on you. You wouldn't doubt it if that was the case.
You felt tired after crying for so long, you didn't want to think of it this way but this was by far your worst birthday ever.
I just wanted to have a nice and relaxing day with Zayne.
Your lip quivered as a new wave of tears streamed down your face at the thought of your boyfriend, and how he had acted earlier today. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt that he probably just had a bad day, but you're still human at the end of the day. You still get hurt even if the other person didn't mean to hurt you.
Before you could wallow in sadness even more you got a call from your best friend, Tara. Needing a distraction you answered the call.
"Happy birthday bestie!"
You let out a little chuckle, her happiness rubbing off on you a little.
"Thanks Tara, how have you been? Hunter's Association keeping you busy?"
Your best friend was a data analyzer for the Hunter's Association, her job kept her busy so getting the chance to talk or meet up with her was rare.
"It's been busy, but we got to go home early today! Apparently one of the new hunters shares the same birthday as you!"
"Oh really, that's nice."
"Yeah, it was last minute but she wanted us to get some hotpot together, so that's where we're headed right now. Oh wait, is that your boyfriend?"
You sat up like you got shocked.
Zayne? What is he doing? Did he not even notice you left his place?
Your mind was running a mile a minute thinking about all the possibilities.
"Oh, I didn't think he knew MC. Why isn't he with you right now?"
Tara's question had you feeling upset and annoyed.
So he can push me away when I just wanted to know if he was okay, but now he's out celebrating someone else's birthday? While completely forgetting about mine?
"Oh I've been caught up at work so we planned on celebrating another day."
You said after a moment of silence, Tara seemed to have bought your excuse.
"Okay, as long as you knew he was coming here. I'll keep an eye out for anyone trying to get too cozy with him, you can count on me!"
Tara exclaimed, she always had your back no matter what. Which is why you felt bad about lying, but this was something you needed to deal with yourself.
You wrapped up your call with Tara, and decided you would just spend the evening on your own.
You freshened up a bit and stepped out to grab some of your favourite take out and desserts.
●・○・●・○・●・
You settled onto your couch and pulled up a show that has been sitting in your watchlist for a while now, finally getting the time to watch it.
You silently ate your take out, the show was interesting enough to keep you distracted from your depressing thoughts.
That didn't last for long though, when you got to your dessert your mind started to wander as the dessert reminded you of your boyfriend who was a fiend for anything sweet.
You let out a sad chuckle as you took a bite of the dessert before pushing it away, no longer in the mood to have anything sweet.
You grabbed the blanket that was on the back of the couch and decided to get comfy. Today was draining and now you just needed to become one with the couch.
The sound of the TV lulled you to sleep, the day being wiped from your brain as you fell into a dreamless sleep.
●・○・●・○・●・
At MC's dinner, Tara was seated across from Zayne. She eyed him down, wondering why he wouldn't just stay at home and wait for you instead of being here.
She wasn't one to comment on what people do with their free time, but it was odd to see him here, and for MC's birthday when it's just coworkers.
For the entirety of the dinner Tara silently observes him and MC, obviously he would never do anything to hurt you, but one could never say the same about other people.
Near the end of the dinner, Tara pulled out the gift she had prepared for you, knowing Zayne would be seeing you sooner than she'll see you she handed it to him.
He gave her a confused look as he eyed the gift bag.
"It's Y/N's birthday gift. You'll see her sooner than I will so can you give it to her?"
If it wasn't for Tara paying close attention, she would have missed the way his eyes widened just a fraction before silently nodding and taking the gift, bidding her farewell before rushing out.
I've never seen that man run out so fast.
Tara thought, turning her attention to MC as they made plans to go to karoke.
●・○・●・○・●・
Zayne had never felt as disappointed in himself more than he did today.
He not only had been extremely rude to you this morning, he also forgot your birthday.
He had no excuse, no matter how stressful or busy work got, he should've at least remembered what today was.
Rushing back home, he looked around for you. He couldn't find you anywhere, it seemed like you hadn't been home for a while. Zayne also noticed your keys weren't there either.
Did she go somewhere? But where could she have gone.
He racked his brain for any ideas of where you could have gone, taking a shot he decided to go to your apartment first. Hoping that you would be there.
●・○・●・○・●・
Once he got to your apartment, he hesitated to open the door. Unsure of whether you would want to see him or not.
He gathered some courage and opened the door, the sight in front of him had his chest hurting.
There you were, curled up on the couch with take out containers and a barely eaten dessert on the coffee table in front of you.
It seemed you had fallen asleep watching a show.
Zayne carefully made his way towards you, picking up the garbage to throw it out, and then packing the dessert away into the fridge.
After cleaning up he made his way back to the living room and knelt down in front of you. Immediately, he noticed how your eyes were red and puffy with a wet spot on the pillow indicating that you had cried yourself to sleep.
His chest felt tight looking at you like that. You were always so strong, barely ever giving into negative feelings, but I guess everyone has their limits.
Zayne gently gathered you into his arms and made his way towards your room. After tucking you in he decided to wash up and join you, hoping you would forgive him for neglecting you all day.
He slipped into bed quietly as to not wake you up, he pulled you in closer to him so that your head was against his chest and his arms were wrapped around your waist.
"I'm so sorry my love. When you wake up I'll make it up to you, I promise."
He placed a gentle kiss at the top of your head, letting himself relax with you in his arms.
●・○・●・○・●・
You woke up to arms wrapped around you, your brain not having caught up to the situation allowed your body to snuggle closer in to the warmth that surrounded you.
Wait didn't I fall asleep on the couch?
You shot up, or well tried to, the arms holding you restricted you from moving too much.
Looking up you came face to face with Zayne, seeing him brought back all of your feelings from yesterday and you tried to wiggle out of his grasp, only for him to tighten his hold even more.
"Stop moving so much and get some more rest."
His eyes were still closed as he spoke.
It irritated you that he could just act like everything was ok. You continued to move around until you finally escaped his grasp, darting straight to the bathroom.
You locked yourself in, not wanting him to come in. You didn't want to just forget it all and move on, it wasn't fair.
You were so lost in your thoughts you didn't hear Zayne knocking on the door.
"My love, are you ok? Can you please open the door?"
He spoke softly, as if he didn't want to upset me further.
You felt like you were being childish, but you wanted to ignore him the same way he ignored your requests about whether he was ok, and lets not get started about him forgetting your birthday.
You quickly freshened up and opened the door, Zayne stood in front of the door, patiently waiting for you.
He was about to say something but you just slid past him, not wanting to hear him out.
Desperate, Zayne grabbed your arm and pulled you to his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist to prevent you from walking away from him.
You wiggled in his hold. You felt your resolve to ignore him slipping the longer you stayed in his embrace.
He slowly moved backwards towards the bed, sitting down on it with you now in his lap.
You gave in and started crying, Zayne rocked you back and forth while rubbing a hand soothingly on your back.
“I’m sorry my love, I know it’s not an excuse but I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
He grabs ahold of your face and brings it to face him. The tears streaming down your face make him feel like a sinner.
He wipes them away as you slowly begin to calm down.
“Why did you go to her birthday dinner.”
You didn’t even have to say a name for him to know. He pulls out his phone to show you his texts with her, she basically lied to him about her heart condition acting up to get him to come out, and unfortunately it worked.
“I was concerned for my patient, it was nothing more than that. I was backed into a corner when she had asked me to join them for dinner.”
If there was one thing for sure, Zayne was never a man who would lie, even with reason. He always spoke the truth no matter what. This situation was also no exception.
“She was just one of my childhood friends who was diagnosed with a rare heart condition, if my head was screwed on right yesterday I would have never said yes. I’d rather spend my time with you.”
He gave you an adorable smile, but that didn’t mean you’d let him off the hook.
“You’re going to have to work for your forgiveness mister. Yesterday really hurt me, I’ve never felt more alone in a relationship than I did yesterday and we were supposed to be spending time together.”
You spoke, you needed to let him know how you felt, you wanted your relationship to work and in order to do that you needed to communicate.
Zayne nodded in agreement.
“I wouldn’t want you to forgive me so easily either.”
He pulled you in for a hug, wanting to comfort you as much as possible.
It was then you got this amazing idea, you knew exactly how you were going to get back at him.
“For making me sad your punishment is no desserts for a week.”
Zayne was about to protest what you interrupted him.
“Say one word of disagreement and I’ll extend it by another week.”
That got him to promptly close his mouth and begrudgingly agree.
“You also owe me massages for the whole week, I got my period and I’m sore all over.”
Now Zayne felt even more upset.
You were already in pain and I just added more to it.
Zayne thought.
“I’ll do anything you ask of me my love, whatever makes you happy.”
He pulled you in for a kiss, it was soft and sweet. Zayne’s actions always were louder than his words.
You kissed him back, enjoying the warmth he gave you both inside and out. You guys had your ups and downs but you always managed to make it work.
Zayne would be damned if he ever let someone so precious slip through his fingers.
