How to live happily ever after as a cheating wife

Chapter 5

Leaving Gairos to his play, Rosemary set out to find Graham.

She had spent much time reflecting on her past actions, and after Graham’s quiet gestures of care—seeking her out and bringing her home—she had finally resolved to set aside her pride and apologize. Mustering her courage, she made her way to his study, only to find him engaged in a serious discussion with Sutton.

Standing at the doorway, she hesitated. The words she had rehearsed so carefully faltered on her lips.

Unnoticed, she had the chance to observe him in his element—authoritative, composed, unreadable. It was a side of him she had never truly paid attention to before. The weight of his responsibilities stood in stark contrast to her personal grievances, making her own hesitation feel foolish.

As she debated whether to wait or quietly slip away, Graham’s gaze finally met hers—steady, expectant, but giving nothing away. In that moment, whatever apology she had prepared vanished from her mind.

With a brief word to Sutton, Graham excused himself and stepped out to meet her.

“What is it?” His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable coldness beneath it.

She had not expected him to interrupt an important conversation for her. Unsettled, she lowered her gaze and murmured a vague excuse before retreating, the unspoken apology still caught in her throat.

She did not notice the faint crease forming between Graham’s brows as he watched her absently fidget with the lace at her sleeve.

Not long after, a servant arrived at her door, informing her that fresh clothing had been laid out and a bath had been prepared.

A quiet flicker of surprise crossed her face.

So, Graham had arranged a bath for her—before she had even realized she needed it herself.

The warm water was a welcome relief as she sank into the tub, letting the heat seep into her weary limbs. The room was dimly lit, the scent of lavender rising with the steam. The tub was deep, the water filled nearly to the brim, a rare indulgence. She ran a washcloth along her arms, watching the grime of travel dissolve into the water.

She had not realized how tense she had been until now. Her muscles ached from the days of unrest, her mind still tangled in the event of the past week. She leaned her head back, closing her eyes for a moment, allowing herself this fleeting sense of ease.

A soft knock came at the door.

"Madam," a maid’s voice called gently. "Mr. Severan asked me to bring this to you."

The door opened just enough for a delicate package to be handed inside. Wrapped in fine paper and bound with a silk ribbon, the item already spoke of rarity.

Unwrapping it, Rosemary found an imported soap—its fragrance rich yet refined, a luxury few could afford.

She blinked, momentarily taken aback. Graham had also arranged this?

Tracing a finger over the carved emblem on the soap, she exhaled a small, disbelieving laugh.

After finishing her bath, Rosemary changed into a fresh gown, the lingering warmth of the water still soothing her skin. As she stepped out of her chambers, a burst of laughter echoed through the corridor.

Curious, she followed the sound and found Gairos playing with the servants. He was chasing a small wooden hoop down the hall, his chubby legs moving as fast as they could while the young footmen cheered him on. His laughter was bright and unrestrained, filling the otherwise solemn household with rare warmth.

A small smile tugged at Rosemary’s lips before she even realized it.

“Gairos,” she called, her voice softer.

The boy halted mid-stride, the wooden hoop rolling away and hitting a side table with a soft clatter.

“Mama!” Gairos cried, abandoning his game entirely. He ran toward her.

Rosemary’s heart touched at the warmth of his touch. She rested a hand on his back, smoothing down his dark curls. “You’re having fun,” she observed, glancing at the servants who quickly straightened up at her presence.

Gairos grinned up at her, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Yes! Look, Mama, I can roll it all the way down the corridor!”

Rosemary nodded. “Let me see then.”

Gairos beamed and hurried back to his game, the servants resuming their cheerful encouragement. Rosemary watched, arms crossed, standing in the hallway with patience that she rarely showed.

Behind her, unseen, Graham had just stepped out from his study. His gaze lingered on the scene before him—on Rosemary, standing there, truly watching their son.

Graham was escorting Mr. Sutton and his niece, Miss Silva, toward the entrance. Their conversation had just concluded.

The moment Rosemary stepped into view, Silva halted mid-step.

“Who are you?” Silva snapped, there was a distinct sharpness in her tone.

For the briefest second, her face betrayed her—a flicker of genuine shock breaking through the practiced poise she maintained in social settings. But she was quick to recover, her lips curving into a polite, if slightly tight, smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I...”

Rosemary met her gaze evenly, catching the way Silva’s fingers clenched slightly at the folds of her skirt. A surprise, indeed. Silva had clearly not expected a hostess in this house.

Rosemary, however, had a good guess exactly who this girl is.

A memory surfaced—whispers among the servants, a name spoken in hushed tones. Miss Silva had never concealed her ambition to become the mistress of this household. Once, Rosemary had not cared. At that time, she had been consumed by her own desires, blinded by her longing for another.

How ironic that a position she despised was something someone else was pursuing.