Chapter 13:Jude
1374 Words
If someone had asked me on my wedding day whether I’d be happy three months into my marriage, I would have laughed.Not because I thought happiness was impossible.Because I couldn’t imagine it.Yet here I was.Smiling more.Sleeping peacefully.Looking forward to evenings.Looking forward…To him.I still wasn’t sure when everything had changed.Maybe it was the way he always waited for me to finish talking before speaking.Maybe it was the way he’d quietly pick me up from work on difficult days without asking questions.Maybe it was the way he’d never once broken the promise he’d made on our wedding night.
Not once.
He had never pressured me.
Never made me feel guilty.
Never even hinted that he was disappointed.
If anything…
He seemed content with every tiny step I took towards him.
And somehow…
That made me want to take another.
⸻
I was visiting my parents on Saturday afternoon when my mother found me sitting alone in the garden.
She carried two cups of tea and handed one to me before settling onto the bench.
“You’ve been quiet.”
I smiled.
“I’m always quiet.”
“Not this kind.”
Mothers always knew.
No matter how old you became.
She studied me for a moment before asking gently,
“How is married life?”
A smile found my lips before I realised it.
“It’s… nice.”
“Just nice?”
I laughed softly.
“It’s peaceful.”
She tilted her head.
“I was expecting more complaints.”
“There aren’t any.”
“None?”
I shook my head.
“He takes care of me.”
“He remembers the little things.”
“He listens.”
“He waits for me after work even when he’s had meetings all day.”
I looked down at my wedding ring.
“He makes me feel… safe.”
My mother smiled knowingly.
“I can hear it in your voice.”
“Hear what?”
“You’ve fallen in love with him.”
My face warmed instantly.
“I haven’t.”
“No?”
“I…”
The words caught in my throat.
“I don’t know.”
She reached over and squeezed my hand.
“You don’t have to be afraid of calling it love.”
I stared at my tea.
“I don’t think I’m afraid of loving him.”
“What are you afraid of?”
The question lingered in the air.
Finally, I whispered,
“I’m afraid of disappointing him.”
Her expression softened.
“Has he ever made you feel like you could?”
“No.”
“Has he rushed you?”
“Never.”
“Has he complained?”
I shook my head.
“Then why do you think you’d disappoint him?”
I didn’t have an answer.
⸻
A long silence passed before I spoke again.
“Mum…”
“Hm?”
“We still haven’t…”
My cheeks burned.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Oh.”
I nodded, suddenly fascinated by the pattern on my teacup.
“We’ve slept in the same bed every night.”
“But…”
“But nothing.”
She smiled gently.
“There’s no shame in taking your time.”
“I know.”
I smiled faintly.
“But…”
This time my smile was shy.
“I think…”
She waited patiently.
“I think I’m ready.”
The words felt strange leaving my mouth.
Almost unreal.
My mother didn’t look surprised.
Instead, she smiled in that knowing way only mothers could.
“I wondered when you’d say that.”
“You… did?”
“I’ve seen the way you look at him.”
I buried my face in my hands.
“Mum…”
“Oh, don’t hide now.”
She laughed.
“You blush every time he walks into a room.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
I groaned dramatically.
“I should never have come here.”
She laughed even harder.
⸻
When the laughter faded, she became serious again.
“So…”
She took another sip of tea.
“Have you told him?”
I nearly choked.
“No!”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know how.”
“You could simply tell him.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
I covered my face again.
“It’s embarrassing.”
She smiled warmly.
“Sweetheart…”
“Marriage isn’t built on mind reading.”
“I know.”
“But every time I try…”
I sighed.
“…I lose my courage.”
She looked at me thoughtfully before a mischievous smile appeared.
“Then perhaps…”
I narrowed my eyes.
“What?”
“You could be a little romantic.”
“Mum.”
“What?”
“I know that look.”
“What look?”
“The one that means you’re about to embarrass me.”
She laughed.
“I’m only saying…”
She leaned in slightly.
“You don’t always have to use words.”
I blinked.
“You could plan a nice evening.”
“A quiet dinner.”
“Maybe wear something that makes you feel confident.”
I stared at her.
“Mum!”
“What?”
She looked entirely innocent.
“You’re married.”
“I know I’m married!”
“So?”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
“I carried you for nine months.”
“I think we’ve earned the right to discuss these things.”
I couldn’t help laughing.
“You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been told.”
The familiar phrase made us both smile.
⸻
On my drive home, her words replayed in my mind.
You don’t always have to use words.
Could I really?
The thought alone made my heart pound.
I imagined coming home.
Seeing him.
The way his eyes always softened when he looked at me.
The way he’d smile the moment I walked through the door.
The way he’d instinctively reach for my hand whenever we walked together.
My chest tightened.
When had those little moments become my favourite part of the day?
When had his laugh become something I searched for?
When had I started missing him during the hours we were apart?
I smiled to myself.
Maybe my mother was right.
Maybe…
I had fallen in love with him.
I was just the last person to realise it.
⸻
That evening, I arrived home just before sunset.
The butler greeted me with a polite smile.
“Welcome home, Sir.”
“Thank you.”
“Master is in his study.”
I looked towards the staircase.
My heart suddenly beat faster.
He was home.
For some reason…
That thought alone was enough to make me nervous.
I took a slow breath and climbed the stairs.
Outside the study door, I paused.
I could hear the quiet murmur of his voice as he finished a business call.
A moment later, the door opened.
He looked up.
The instant he saw me, the fatigue in his expression melted away.
“There you are.”
His smile was warm, genuine.
“I was wondering when you’d be home.”
Something fluttered in my chest.
Without thinking, I walked over to him.
He looked surprised when I gently adjusted his slightly crooked tie.
“You’ve had a long day,” I said softly.
“I have.”
His eyes never left mine.
“But it’s much better now.”
My fingers lingered against his chest for just a heartbeat longer than usual.
Neither of us moved.
The air between us seemed to grow quieter.
Warmer.
His gaze searched mine, as though silently asking whether this closeness was welcome.
For the first time…
I didn’t step away.
Instead, I offered him a small, shy smile.
“Would you have dinner with me tonight?”
His answering smile was slow and full of quiet affection.
“I’d be delighted.”
And though neither of us knew it yet, something had shifted between us.
Not with grand declarations.
Not with reckless haste.
But with the quiet courage of two people who had learned that the strongest kind of love was built patiently—one choice, one touch, and one hopeful heartbeat at a time.
- Writer
