Hello... Mrs. Me

MODESTY SHOULD BE HER NAME

ANERIA’S POV

I felt his thumb brush the side of my lips, soft and deliberate. My eyes closed on their own, and my body drew closer to him instinctively.

"You had a little cheese on your lips," came his low, smoky voice—not as close as I expected.

My eyes flew open faster than they had shut and just in time to see him slip his index finger into his mouth, sucking on it slowly, his gaze locked on mine.

My knees wobbled, and I had to grip the edge of the island for support.

Cunning bastard, he did that on purpose. No one could convince me otherwise.

Why are you torturing me like this? I yelled at him in silence.

Is this how you live every day, Teresa? In constant, aching, s****l tension?

I face-palmed myself in my mind, drowning in thought, only half-hearing him say something about a 9:30 meeting as he headed out of the kitchen.

From where I stood, I could see him climbing the stairs, scrolling through his phone with one hand, the other casually tucked in his pocket.

Then, suddenly, he turned back. His footsteps quickened. In a flash, he was in front of me.

"Sorry, but I need to check something quickly," he said, then leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, his lips warm and lingering.

And just like that, he was gone.

I stood frozen.

What the hell just happened?

I was still trying to process it all when he returned downstairs. From the kitchen entrance, he called out,

"You good?"

His voice pulled me from my daze.

"Yeah, sure," I replied with a carefree shrug, pretending everything was fine.

"See you when I see you then," He gave a small smile and left.

Once I regained control of myself, I cleaned up the kitchen and decided to tidy the rest of the house. It didn’t take long to familiarize myself with the layout.

A villa—that was the right word for this big house accommodating only two people.

It had six bedrooms, two sitting rooms, one upstairs, likely private, and one downstairs for guests. A spacious kitchen I was growing fond of, a standard swimming pool in the back, and a security post out front.

They had a garage currently holding five luxury cars, with one empty packing space which I suspected was for the car Lucien drove out this morning.

With the number of doors I opened, I still couldn't seem to find any room decorated as a nursery. Probably they weren't ready yet, I shrugged it off.

The house was already tidy, so I simply dusted and freshened up a few areas. Out of boredom, I snooped around, hoping to learn more about Teresa Blake and her husband Lucien.

All I discovered was that they've been married for two years, she was incredibly wealthy and had a taste for extravagance and Lucien seemed to be quite the supportive husband.

With nothing else to do, an idea popped into my head, and I found myself hurrying to the master bedroom.

I stepped into the closet and began picking out clothes.

Aneria, are you seriously playing dress-up?

I giggled. I’d never had this much free time before.

A red dress caught my eye—long, elegant, stopping just at the ankle. But for some reason, the designer had decided to slit it all the way to the thigh.

"Modesty is a name that should’ve been given to you," I muttered, shaking my head as I turned to the mirror.

This dress would never have fit me in my former body—I had been curvier, with a bigger burst and taller.

I was beautiful. And that had been the beginning of all my problems.

A set of cold blue eyes flashed in my mind, and with them came an ache in my heart I hadn’t felt since waking up in this new body.

I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.

Not now. Not today.

I reminded myself, pulling off the dress, the excitement draining away.

I changed the bedsheets, did the laundry, and headed back to the kitchen to raid the fridge for the ice cream I’d spotted earlier.

I passed time with a horror movie I found on Netflix, curled up on the sofa with a bowl of creamy popcorn and that glorious ice cream.

Halfway through the second movie, sleep crept in. I fought it, determined to see the ending.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up to the credits rolling. Wiping off the little drool that has pooled at the side of my mouth.

7:38 p.m.

If this life was anything like my old one, he’d be back from work any moment now and if dinner wasn't ready yet, there would be hel to pay for.

On instinct I hurried downstairs, pausing to smile at the kitchen. I couldn’t imagine ever having a bad day with this kitchen around.

I started dinner. The ingredients I needed were easy to find, as though my hands remembered without asking.

Teresa must have been a good wife, I thought, slicing up bell peppers.

Feeding her husband healthy meals, keeping the house tidy and I must continue if I didn't want to raise any suspicion till I—

I froze mid-thought.

Till I…?

My hands stopped. My chest tightened.

Till I go back to my old body?

I shook my head as my heart raced.

I don’t want to go back.

I don’t want to be that woman again, not after tasting what freedom was, with the little time I had spent here.

My hands trembled. The knife slipped. I winced before even seeing the blood, my vision blurring.

"Tess, what the hell?"

The voice was sharp, concerned. I turned and felt his warm hands grab mine, guiding me quickly to the sink.

He held my hand under the cold stream, rinsing the blood away.

I hadn’t even realized how much I was bleeding.

I looked at him. He looked tired, a little worn—but still effortlessly handsome.

A loose strand of hair fell across his forehead, and his brows furrowed in concentration as he examined my wound.

I wasn’t with Phillip. I wasn’t with my father.

I was here. With Lucien this stranger's husband.

Who was now my husband.

And God help me, I wasn't leaving anytime soon.

Sorry Teresa.

I apologized before, rising on my toes to press a kiss on his cheek.