When He Sold My Nudes, I Married My Hidden Guard

Chapter 2

Following Loren’s perfunctory show of concern at the entrance of the private lounge, the ride home was silent.

In the past, I would have desperately searched for topics to break the silence. I was always afraid that, being blind, I wouldn't be able to sense his moods, or that I’d be unable to offer comfort when he was feeling down. Now, looking back, he must have viewed my attempts to keep the conversation going as a burden.

Once home, Loren headed straight for the bathroom, leaving me standing alone in the entryway. After a moment of hesitation, I picked up his phone, which he’d carelessly left on the console table.

The lock screen displayed a photo of him kissing Rosa. Steadied by a surge of cold resolve, I entered my birthday. Incorrect password. Then, I keyed in Rosa’s birthday. The phone unlocked instantly.

There was no time for self-pity. My fingers moved of their own accord, opening the photo gallery. A barrage of sickening images flooded my vision: my own body, manipulated by Loren into various humiliating positions. In every shot, my face was laid bare in high definition, while he had meticulously avoided capturing his own face or body.

My body trembled uncontrollably. Summoning my last ounce of strength, I closed the gallery before stumbling into the bathroom to retch violently.

It was revolting. Loren, you are absolutely repulsive.

Hearing the commotion, Loren emerged from the upstairs bedroom, his torso bare. A warm hand began to rub my back, his voice thick with feigned concern. "Fina, are you alright? Did you eat something that didn't agree with you? Is anything else bothering you? Do you need me to call the family doctor?"

Had I not seen the look of utter disdain on his face earlier, I might have actually believed his performance. In the five years I’d been blind, who knows how many times such hypocrisy had been played out on me? Perhaps it had been genuine in the beginning, but this fickle sincerity only made me feel even sicker. The thought made me retch even harder.

Loren seemed to realize something, abandoning his facade entirely. He gripped my chin, forcing me to look directly at him, indifferent to the bile that smeared across my face and his hands.

His eyes darted with panic and disbelief, his voice trembling. "Fina, are you pregnant?"

At that moment, the only thing I knew for certain was that if I were truly carrying Loren’s child, I would never keep it.

"No, Loren. You always take precautions," I replied, forcing my voice to sound helpless and pitiful.

Having just undergone eye surgery, I was absolutely, undeniably certain that I was not pregnant.

Upon hearing this, the tension in Loren’s frame evaporated. He loosened his grip on my jaw, allowing me to finally pull away.

"Good." Seeming to realize how callous that sounded, he quickly added, "I mean... you’re still young, and your health isn't up to it right now. We shouldn't consider having children for the time being."

"I know, Loren. We have plenty of time."

Relieved by my response, he sighed. Exhausted from the ordeal so soon after his shower, he didn't have the patience for anything else and turned back toward the upstairs bedroom. I was left to wash up in the guest bathroom on the ground floor.