chapter 2
1070 Words
She grew up to become exactly the kind of wife her parents had always wanted her to be.
Quiet. Obedient. Proper.
And eventually, she married him.
Except… he never truly acknowledged her.
To the world, she was his wife.
To him, she was little more than someone who happened to share his name.
He was a severe germophobe. His fear of contamination controlled almost every part of his life, and unfortunately, that included her.
He never came close to her.
If their hands accidentally brushed, he would immediately reach for sanitizer and clean his hands.
If they had even the smallest interaction, he would remind her to wash her hands.
Again.
And again.
Sometimes, several times a day.
There was always distance between them.
At home, they maintained at least five meters between each other whenever possible. If she needed to speak to him, she stayed where she was and spoke from a distance.
Public appearances were different.
They had to look like a married couple.
So, when they stood together in front of cameras and important people, the distance was reduced to two meters.
Never closer.
Never enough for anyone to mistake their relationship for something warm or affectionate.
That was simply how she had learned to live.
Married, yet alone.
She was twenty-four now.
He was twenty-nine.
And he was not an ordinary man.
He was one of the richest and most feared men in the country—a man whose name carried weight wherever it was mentioned. Powerful. Untouchable. Surrounded by people who feared him and others who desperately wanted his approval.
Some called him a businessman.
Others knew the darker truth.
He was deeply involved in the criminal underworld, a man at the very top of the mafia hierarchy.
And she?
She was his wife.
At least, that was what the world saw.
She attended events beside him. She stood beside him in photographs. She wore his ring and carried his surname.
People looked at her and saw a woman who had married one of the most powerful men alive.
But nobody really cared about her.
Nobody asked how she felt.
Nobody noticed that her husband barely looked at her.
Nobody noticed that she had learned to keep her distance without being told.
She was simply—
His wife.
A title.
A name.
A presence beside him in public.
And nothing more.
That afternoon, he had another party to attend.
As usual, the maids and servants prepared her before they left.
They dressed her in an elegant red gown that fell perfectly against her figure. Her accessories were carefully chosen, from the expensive jewelry to the branded handbag placed delicately in her hand.
Her makeup was simple.
He preferred it that way.
When she finally came downstairs, everything was ready.
Except him.
He had already gone ahead.
As usual.
She didn't even bother feeling disappointed anymore.
Their marriage had become a routine so predictable that she could almost tell what would happen before it did.
There would be no conversation.
No questions about how her day had been.
No asking if she was hungry.
Nothing.
On the drive there, he sat on one side of the car, absorbed in his tablet.
She sat quietly on the other.
Her eyes remained fixed on the window.
She watched the city pass by, one building after another, one stranger after another.
Sometimes, she wondered if something unexpected would happen.
Something exciting.
Something that would make her feel alive.
Anything that would make her happy, even for a little while.
But nothing ever did.
She had once been foolish enough to believe that perhaps, with enough time, he would eventually like her.
Maybe he would slowly get used to her.
Maybe one day, he would look at her differently.
But that hope had been fading for more than a year.
Now, she barely expected anything from him.
When they arrived, he stepped out of the car first.
The moment his feet touched the ground, he reached for the sanitizer.
He cleaned his hands thoroughly before doing anything else.
She didn't even react.
She was used to it.
She was used to the distance.
Used to the silence.
Used to being beside a man who behaved as though touching her was impossible.
They entered the restaurant together.
The moment they walked inside, several people turned toward them.
Important people.
Powerful people.
People who immediately greeted him with respect.
She followed quietly behind him.
As always.
They eventually reached their table.
And then she saw her.
A young woman was sitting beside him.
At first, she didn't think much of it.
Until she noticed the way he behaved around her.
He was feeding her.
His hand moved effortlessly toward the woman's mouth, completely without hesitation.
She froze.
Her eyes remained on them.
He touched the girl's hand.
He leaned slightly toward her.
And then—
He smiled.
A genuine smile.
Not the polite expression he wore at public events.
Not the cold, distant look she had become accustomed to.
A real smile.
Something she had never seen directed at her.
Her gaze dropped for a moment.
He was a germophobe.
A man who couldn't stand the smallest contact with her.
A man who would sanitize his hands after accidentally brushing against someone.
A man who had made her wash her hands countless times simply because she had been near him.
Yet here he was.
Touching this woman without hesitation.
Feeding her.
Laughing with her.
Looking completely comfortable.
And suddenly, she understood.
It wasn't that he couldn't stand being close to a woman.
It wasn't that he was incapable of affection.
It wasn't even that his fear made it impossible.
He simply didn't want it from her.
Her eyes returned to the woman beside him.
The familiarity between them was obvious.
The ease.
The way they understood each other's expressions without needing words.
The way his guarded face softened whenever he looked at her.
She didn't need anyone to explain it.
She already knew.
That woman was probably the only person who could make him smile like that.
The only person he trusted enough to let close.
The only person he had ever truly loved.
And for the first time since becoming his wife, she realized something that hurt far more than his rejection ever had.
She had never been the woman he wanted.
She had only ever been the woman he married.
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