His Invisible Wife

C H A P T E R 6 - whitemoonlight

The morning sun poured softly into the kitchen, catching on polished counters as Genie tied her apron. She was already arranging ingredients when Lina came bustling in, sleeves rolled up and hair tied high, ready to assist.

“Oh, Madam!” Lina’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Up before the roosters again? The other maids said you were in the kitchen before anyone else. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you want to take our jobs.”

Genie laughed softly, shaking her head. “No, I just… wanted to make something myself today.”

Lina grinned, reaching for the cutting board. “Then let me help. Two hands make faster work. Besides, if anyone sees you chopping vegetables alone, they’ll scold me for being lazy.”

Genie’s lips curved faintly, the weight in her chest lightened by Lina’s cheer.

As the knife struck the board in rhythm, Lina filled the air with chatter. “Did you know, Madam, the butler once mistook sugar for salt last year? The master nearly spat the soup out, but one of the guards bravely said it was the best soup he’d ever had. The look on his face—like a thundercloud trying not to break—”

Genie chuckled, covering her mouth. “And what happened?”

“The guard still got punished, of course,” Lina said dramatically, eyes wide. “But the master let him off with lighter work. I swear, for a second, I almost thought I saw a smile.”

Her voice softened on that word. Smile.

Genie tilted her head. “He smiled?”

Lina’s knife slowed. She hesitated, biting her lip. “Not anymore… not since her.”

Genie paused, spoon hovering above the simmering broth. “…Her?”

Realizing her slip, Lina stiffened. “I shouldn’t—”

“Tell me,” Genie pressed quietly, though her hands trembled.

Lina sighed, as though bracing for trouble. “The White Moonlight. The one he once… cared for. Before the marriage.”

The words pierced sharper than any blade. Genie’s chest clenched. “He cared for her…?”

Lina nodded reluctantly. “She was the only one who could make him different. You know how the master is now—expressionless, cold, always distant? Well, back then… when she was near, he wasn’t like that. His gaze softened. He listened. Sometimes, he even laughed.”

Genie’s breath caught. She tried to imagine it—Jairus, smiling, warm, human. But it wasn’t for her. It had never been for her.

Lina lowered her voice further. “When she went abroad, it all ended. The day she left, it was like he froze over. From then on, he became the man we see now. Stone-faced. Untouchable. As if the part of him that felt… left with her.”

The knife slipped in Genie’s hand. Not enough to cut, but her grip trembled. She quickly set it down, pressing her palm flat against the counter to steady herself.

Lina, guilt washing over her, tried to soften it. “But Madam… not everything was as it seemed.”

Genie’s reddened eyes lifted faintly. “What do you mean?”

Lina leaned closer, whispering. “She wasn’t as pure as she looked. To the master, she was gentle, fragile—like a white lotus in the rain. But to us maids, she was… something else. Sweet words on the surface, but underneath—green tea. Always playing the victim. Always sighing, saying she wasn’t good enough, that she was such a burden. But then she’d twist things so others were blamed for her mistakes.”

Genie’s lips parted slightly, stunned.

“I remember once,” Lina continued bitterly, “she dropped a vase. We all saw it. But when the master came, she cried and said it was her fault for being clumsy—yet somehow it was my fault for not warning her the floor was slippery. I was scolded for days. None of us had the courage to speak up. Because… the master believed her. Always her. No matter what.”

The air in the kitchen grew heavy. Genie felt her stomach knot, the soup’s aroma turning hollow in her nose.

So Jairus could trust. He could care. He could even defend someone… just not her.

Her throat tightened painfully. She stirred the pot, her voice barely above a whisper. “…And he never saw through her?”

Lina’s expression was torn between pity and frustration. “No. Not then. To him, she was light itself. And we—well, we were just shadows.”

For a moment, Genie stood frozen, spoon trembling in her grip. Then she forced a small smile, fragile as glass. “Thank you for telling me, Lina. Let’s… finish the meal. He should eat something today.”

But inside, her heart bled. Each slice of beef, each portion of rice, felt like carving herself open. She tied the cloth around the lunchbox with steady hands, but her chest ached with the truth.

It wasn’t that Jairus couldn’t love.

It was that he had already given it away—to someone else.