When His Wife Return

Chapter 1

{Aurora's POV}

He did not become any better.

In fact, Lucas had grown harsher throughout our first five months living together. He took every opportunity to say hurtful words to me. He never let a day pass without reminding me how forced he was to be in this marriage.

I couldn't blame him, though. This whole arrangement had been set up by my and his parents. So, no matter how painful his treatment was, I just accepted everything. I also wanted to try to make this marriage work, but he's just so...cruel in every possible way. He never spared me a glance, as if I was not worthy to be in his line of vision. He never utters more than ten words to me. The longest was our first move-in when he kicked me out of our bedroom.

He made sure to leave early and come home very late just so we wouldn't see each other outside of our separate room.

Every day was a battle I had to fight. Aside from the fact that it's terribly lonely being alone here—always a silent battle between me and my thoughts—my mother's constant nagging about providing an heir had me restless. I couldn't tell her that my husband couldn't even stomach being in the same room as me, so I had to lie every time she asked.

"Are you happy?"

But of course, not every everyday was the same. There were still some days that felt like a breath of fresh air where my chest felt lighter and my mind wasn't in such a mess.

Just like today.

My best friend, Kiela, showed up at my doorstep first thing in the morning unannounced. Fortunately, Lucas was already out that early, so my best friend couldn't interrogate him, much to her dismay.

"I felt more free than I was back in my parents' house," I answered, not directly answering her question.

Her eyes sharpened, but one look at my face and she immediately released a frustrated breath. She shook her head, her blonde waves bouncing in the process.

"I told you, you don't have to put up with your parents' bulls/t. You're old enough to decide and live by yourself. How many times do I have to remind you of that?"

Keila had been my only friend since I was seventeen. We met at a social gathering, and the only reason why my mother let me hang out with her was because she came from a very wealthy family.

With her baby blue eyes, platinum blonde hair, and petite but curvy figure, she could make any head turn. She loved dressing up, and since she was tall, around 5'8, any clothes would look good on her.

"Aurora...why do you keep doing this to yourself?" She sighed.

Translation: Why did you agree to a loveless marriage?

There was no pity in her voice. Just a plain, simple question that hit me hard in the gut.

My throat tightened.

"You know why I'm doing this, Keila." I bit my bottom lip and took a deep breath, trying to calm my raging emotions. "After what happened, this is the least I could do to make up for everything they lost because of me." I swallowed.

"It's not your fault, Aurora." There was a firmness in her tone. "There was nothing you could've done to prevent it from happening."

I shook my head. I wish it was that easy to believe.

"If it wasn't for me, he'd still be—"

"Stop. Don't finish that sentence." I felt Keila's hand on my shoulder, trying to offer comfort. "You can't carry that burden forever. Move on, Aurora. You can't keep punishing yourself for something that's completely out of your control."

But no matter what she said, what happened that night would always haunt me. Whenever I close my eyes or allow myself to be engulfed by darkness, It was stuck in my head, plaguing my sleep, never wasting any time to crawl like a nightmare.

Keila spent the whole day with me. Thankfully, she didn't bring up anything about the past or my current situation anymore. I could tell she wanted to say a lot of things but respected my decision enough to not say anything about it, for which I am really grateful.

She left after dinner, promising to visit again soon and ignoring my husband's lack of presence.

I was kind of ashamed that she had to witness how cold and loveless my marriage was, and although she didn't say anything about it, I knew she could feel it.

There were no wedding frames plastered on the wall. The coldness of the house screamed loneliness. Not a trace of identity or warmth could be felt or seen in this household, and it says everything about the people living here.

I was about to head upstairs after making sure that the kitchen was clean when the front door opened. At first, I thought it was Keila, forgetting something, so imagine my surprise when I saw my husband entering our house this early, but the surprise quickly turned to mortification when I saw his swollen cheeks and busted lips. There was a gash on his temple, and blood was dripping down on the side of his face.

"Oh my gosh!" I covered my mouth with my palms, partly horrified and shocked.

Lucas continued walking as if it were a typical normal night of his constant rejection towards my presence, but I could see it in his eyes and from the way his jaw clenched; it was very painful for him.

"Lucas!" I hurriedly followed him.

He went straight to his bedroom, and when he was about to shut the door, I stopped him by grabbing him by the wrist. His cold gaze went towards me, and I almost flinched and backed away when he harshly pulled his hands away, earning a wince from him.

"Lucas, you're hurt. I c-can help you."

"I don't need your help," he said, clutching the side of his head, his eyes tightly shut.

There were droplets of blood on the collar of his black button-down. Just the sight of it was enough to make my stomach drop.

He was losing so much blood, and it was obvious that he was struggling with himself.

I clench my fist and mutter a curse inside my head before finally grabbing his wrist again, more tightly this time.

He could push me away and curse at me later, but I won't let him bleed here to death.

He might be harsh and immature and irrational most of the time, but he's still my husband, and I am his wife. It is my job to take care of him even though he has no plans of doing the same.

Thankfully, he didn't complain when I pulled him inside his room and pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed before going to the bathroom to look for a first aid kit. When I finally found one on one of the cupboards, I went back inside the room and saw him with half-lidded eyes.

Panic blossomed inside me when I realized that he was losing consciousness.

I immediately went to work by cleaning the gashes first, trying to stop the blood from pouring out. I could feel my hands shaking every time he would look at me, but I forced myself to focus.

Thankfully, the gash on his head wasn't too deep, though he might have to visit the hospital tomorrow to make sure there was no severe damage to his head. I'd been too focused on what I was doing that I almost didn't hear him speak. But I did.

"How did you learn to tend to these kinds of wounds?"

For the first time since our marriage, his voice wasn't harsh. It was gentle, though I think it was because of his drowsiness.

I kept my eyes on his swollen cheekbones as I continued to put on some ointment. He was indeed handsome. He has sharp features; that's why it was easy for him to look scary, especially with his pitch-black eyes. His skin was surprisingly flawless despite the wounds and blood.

I couldn't look at his eyes without faltering, so I held my ground.

"My brother often came home with bruises and cuts. He couldn't let our parents see, or else he'd be in trouble, so he always sneaked around the house to hide from them. I hated seeing his face bruised and swollen, so I tried to learn to tend to it."

Surprise flashed through his eyes in the brief moment that our gazes collided, but I quickly averted my eyes.

Caelum Summers was my only brother. He was five years older than me, but that didn't stop us from being so close despite him always being busy. He made everything in my parents' house bearable. He was always there to protect me and made sure I was okay. Even our mother couldn't do or say anything harsh to me whenever he was around, so when he started handling my parents' company, he became so busy that he was barely around.

Our parents indulged him. He gets to study at an actual school and have many friends, party all night, and go wherever and whenever he wanted. I never felt jealous of him because he helped me sneak out whenever he had the chance, and we would go to places, eat in restaurants, and shop at the mall and go back without getting caught. Caelum was very outgoing and expressive. When he gets mad, he never holds back, so it is such a headache when he always gets into a lot of fights.

"You have a brother." It was more of a statement than a question.

I swallowed.

Caelum was quite popular before, but after that night, my parents seldom talk about him. Everything that was connected to him vanished. And then I started hearing less and less about him. My parents made sure of that.

Because they blamed me.

I blame me too.

I didn't reply to him, and he didn't press the topic further. I almost forgot that it was my husband. The person that hates my guts to the core. The person who couldn't stand my presence.

"All done," I whispered before I started cleaning the first aid. He didn't move from his position, and I could feel his lingering eyes on me. It burned a hole right through me, so when I couldn't handle the intensity of his gaze anymore, I spoke. "How did you get all those cuts and gashes?"

I looked up at him. His face was a mask of indifference, but the way his eyes darkened told me otherwise.

He swallowed, hard. It was as though the simple action was already painful for him. His breathing was also uneven that I worry if his state worsened, but then, he tore his gaze away, and just like that, the fire was replaced with something colder than the Antarctic.

"I've gotten into a fight."

My brows shot up in surprise.

It was so unlike him to be involved with violence. Not only were his parents are both respectable beings, but also because he should be at the office. His parents' company.

How could he get into a fight in his own company building? Unless he wasn't there in the first place.

He looked at me again, the intensity gone. It was cold and harsh. And just like that, the old Lucas was back.

"Someone disrespected my date in the club," he said bluntly.

I almost drop the kit in my hands.

Did I...Did I hear him right?

His cruel eyes watch my reaction, but whatever he saw in my expression did nothing to unfaze him.

He was in a club with a date. My husband had gone on a date with another woman in a club.

Did he indirectly tell me that he was having an affair?

"W-what?"

Maybe it was about business. Lucas wouldn't...He wouldn't...

God, why does my throat suddenly feel so tight?

"She was waiting for me outside the room I booked for us when a man groped her, so I punched him, and we broke into a huge fight," he continued, never stopping or realizing the damage he was causing.

I felt all the blood drain from my face. My stomach churned. My hands suddenly felt too clammy.

I think I'm going to be sick.

How could he tell me this without even blinking? Not even looking a bit guilty while I felt like my heart had been crumpled.

I don't know what was worse; the fact that he indirectly admitted that he was cheating or the fact that he could defend another woman but not...me. He was willing to break his skull for another girl, while he didn't even bat an eye while hurting me.

I abruptly stood up, gripping the kit like my life depended on it.

"I-I'm...I should...I think I should g-go."

I didn't wait for his reply. I left his room so fast he might think the temperature inside would burn me. Not burn, but shatter.

My knees were shaking when I closed the door of my own room and leaned against it, letting my body slide down until I was slumped down on the cold floor.

I felt something wet dripped down my cheeks, and I didn't have to check to know what it was. I closed my eyes and forced myself to silence my sobs.

God, why does it have to hurt so bad? Why am I hurting so bad?

I was fine with our setup. I accepted all the things he said to me and his treatment towards me, but...how could he do this to me?

And how could I let him?