Dangerous Marriage

"Are you back?" I trembled, rubbing the cold sweat off my palms against my sweater. Finally. I only get one chance—I can’t mess this up. "Please, come in!" Two men appeared at the door. One was around thirty, with sharp brows and bright eyes, yet dark circles hung beneath his eyes. He exuded wariness and calculation… This was my husband, Sam. "No need for such formalities. It’s just a casual meal." My eyelashes fluttered at the other man. He looked about forty-five or six, dressed in a charcoal gray suit, a hint of hidden impatience on his face. "Honey, this is our company’s general manager, Alex..." "P-Please have a seat..." I frantically pushed the home-cooked dishes I’d just made toward Alex, only to see him frown slightly. "Honey... I..." I turned to Sam, who waved his hand dismissively. "Alex is a vegetarian. Why did you make all these meat dishes? Take them away quickly." "...There’s no need." My hand had barely touched the plate when a warm, well-defined palm pressed gently over my wrist. His voice was deep and soft. "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." I’d been married to Sam for seven years. Our days were plain, yet decent enough. He worked in finance, always wearing a suit and dealing with high-ranking figures. The downside? He was almost never home, buried in work. I glanced at the wall clock; the hands already pointed to two in the middle of the night. Finally, a noise came from outside the door. I opened it, and he stumbled into my arms, reeking of alcohol. "Why did you drink so much?" His face was flushed, his words slurred. "I-I was drinking with clients... Out of ten people up for promotion... I’m definitely the one who’ll get it..." Right after that, he vomited heavily, the sour stench staining my clothes. After struggling to get him into bed and changed, I squatted alone in the living room cleaning up the mess. I soaked the rag and scrubbed hard at the dried, hardened vomit on the floor. I wasn’t sure if it was staying up late or the foul smell making my head spin, but my eyes slowly turned red, and my throat felt stuffed with cotton. He’s ambitious. Isn’t that a good thing? Why am I crying? "He works so hard, you have to be understanding. He doesn’t gamble or fool around, and he brings all his money home. He’s truly a good man." Mom always said that every time I went back home. I nodded, clutching the hem of my clothes, breathing quietly to steady myself. Everyone said the same thing, and I told myself Sam was a good man too. Yet his temper grew worse by the day, and his irritation toward me became more and more obvious... I parted my lips but said nothing. After all, I was the one living this life with him—how could I pour these troubles out to others? I thought our days would always be like this. Either he’d get promoted and grow even busier, or fail the promotion and come home in a fit of rage. But one day, everything changed... It was a Friday, and he came home unusually early at eight in the evening. Ignoring my apron, he wrapped his arms around me from behind, nuzzling and kissing my earlobe. "Darling ... I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?" I was washing dishes, my hands covered in foam, not responding to his embrace. "The bad news." He held me tighter. "I’m afraid I’ll have to trouble you to cook a big feast tomorrow to entertain someone." "And the good news?" "Do you know who we’re entertaining?" He lowered his voice, putting on a mysterious tone. "It’s Alex, our general manager. If anyone in the firm can decide my promotion, he’s second to none. I finally managed to invite him over for dinner—it’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance." "Aren’t there ten other people competing for the promotion? Have the others invited Alex too?" He clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction. "You don’t have much faith in me, do you? I’m the only one who could get Alex to agree to come. He sees real potential in me, I know it." "Please, wife? Do this for me?" He nuzzled my cheek, just like when we were dating—acting like a clingy puppy when he wanted something. In the end, my heart softened. "Fine." "This dish is delicious. It reminds me of someone..." Alex’s chopsticks tapped the plate of oyster sauce lettuce as he chewed slowly, lost in thought. "Does it remind you of your mother? I heard your mother passed away early..." Sam cut himself off abruptly, smacking his own mouth. "Forgive my loose tongue, please don’t take offense." Alex fell silent for a few seconds. For a moment, Sam and I both held our breath, too afraid to speak, fearing his temper would ignite. "My mother passed away when I was young. I never got to eat food she made. The person this reminds me of is my wife... or rather, my ex-wife. She knew I was a vegetarian and learned to cook several vegetarian dishes just for me. Oyster sauce lettuce was her specialty." As he spoke, he picked up another chopstick of lettuce and placed it directly into my bowl, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. "You cook it wonderfully. You should have some too." Emboldened by his praise, I dared to lift my head slightly, only to meet his soft gaze. Alex wore rimless glasses, behind which lay a pair of gentle eyes. His eyelashes were longer than most women’s, soft and captivating every time he blinked. His gaze lingered, as if he was looking right through me at someone else. I felt completely relaxed under his tender stare, and his smile deepened. For a split second, I even caught a glimmer of affection in his eyes. "Xiao Yu, thank Alex. Don’t just stand there blankly." Sam’s voice jolted me like a thunderclap. I snapped back to my senses. This man beside me was my husband, the only man I’d ever loved, my lifelong reliance. "T-Thank you, Alex." My cheeks burned with embarrassment. I lowered my head, mumbling softly like a mosquito, and picked up the lettuce to eat. It was the first time I’d ever thought oyster sauce lettuce tasted this good... As the meal went on, Sam drank heavily. "I’ll drink this up, you take it easy, Alex!" He drained another cup in one gulp. "Honey, stop drinking. Too much alcohol is bad for you." I reached for his cup, hesitating whether to refill it. "What’s wrong with you? Why are you being such a buzzkill? I finally got Alex to come over—who cares about my health right now!" Sam’s words were slurred from drinking, his tie already loose and draped over his shoulders. "Fill my cup again!" He’d already downed four or five cups, while Alex only sipped his slowly, barely finishing his first cup, still perfectly sober. "There’s no need to drink so much. You should listen to Xiao Yu." When Alex said my name, his tone softened, and he glanced over at me. It was the first time a man other than my husband had spoken my name so gently. A name is the shortest spell. I found myself imagining how it rolled off his tongue, the vibration in his throat as he spoke. The way he said my name felt like a magician’s summoning—and I had no choice but to answer. Sam laughed casually. "It’s an honor to drink with you, Alex. I fear nothing as long as you take notice of me. I’d do anything for you..." "Anything at all?" There was hidden meaning in Alex’s words, a faint spark flickering in his gentle eyes. "We’ll see about the future. It’s getting late. I should take my leave." He picked up his suit from the coat rack. Though he’d drunk a little, only a faint flush colored his cheeks. His tie was neat, his posture tall and straight, as if he’d just stepped away from a grand ball. Alex watched Sam slumping drunkenly onto my lap, giggling mindlessly. "When he wakes up, please pass a message to him." Backlit, his eyes deepened, half his face hidden in shadow. "I’ll come to visit often from now on, Xiao Yu."