Cordy's corner

Xavier steps closer, backing you into the kitchen corner, arms braced on either side of you against the counter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, leaning in as if to kiss you. You push him away flustered. He smiles smugly. “Whatever. Eye for an eye, I guess,” you say and go back to the couch.

“But you’ve been avoiding my eyes?” he says, dropping down in front of you on the ground, nudging his head between your knees, looking up at you.

“Uuugh, again, you’re looking at me like that!! It’s messing with my head and ruining my anger, Xavier!” You try to avoid his gaze. “I see,” he says quietly. “I might have to make you look at me then.”

Before you can react, he’s on top of you, pinning one hand above your head and holding your face firmly with the other, so your eyes meet. “So when another man looks at you, you give him your number… but when I look at you, you fight me?”

You try to look away, but it’s already too late. Despite his innocent face, his body is big and once it’s on yours, you can’t push him off nor free yourself from his grip. He shifts, pinning you more vigorously to the couch, his knee pressing between your legs as he kisses you along your neck, all the way up to your lips.

“Don’t look away. Not even for a second,” he says while his hand slips under your skirt. He gently moves his fingers along your slit, before pushing one into you. You let out a soft moan from the sudden insertion.

“I want you to look me in the eyes the entire time…,” his pace hurries, gaze fixed on you, “…so you remember them next time a man approaches you.”

Your body curls in, you involuntarily arch your back from his unrestrained rhythm. Xavier already freed you from your shirt and bra, sucking your tits and teasing your nipples with his tongue, always keeping his eyes on you though, making sure you won’t break eye-contact.

“Every second you look away adds more punishment. I can edge you all night,” he warns softly. When he’s satisfied by hearing & feeling you climax from his fingers, probably adding hours of ‘punishment’ along the way, he unbuckles his pants.

He gives his cock a couple of strokes before slapping it against your clit and teasing it with his tip. “I might need to confess something…” he said in a hushed tone, his cock now gliding along your slit, edging you and coating his dick in your fluids.

You know he manipulated you into this, but you can’t be angry — not with his cock pressed against you like this and his eyes looking… you don’t even know what it is. They’re soft & kind, yet a hungry urge to dominate you flickers through.

He lives to worship the work of art that your body is, every roll, every curve, every stretch mark if you have any, the way your body folds and creates perfection. He'd ask to either paint or sculpt you, but if you refuse because you're self conscious, he'll respect it and spend the day reminding you the living treasure you are for him.

Rest assured that Rafayel will make it his personal goal to restore that self-esteem to your heart, by whatever means necessary. Paintings? All of them are yours. Sketches? Of every detail of the beautiful lines on your cheeks when you smile. Poems? Every hurtful phrase you’ve ever heard in your life will be replaced with the purest affection and adoration, because you are more than a body, more than a standard—you are his muse, his love, and his whole life.

The day you told him you were considering a diet his heart broke a little; not because he didn't want to (he is very much aware of how much he eats and won't force you to eat the same as him), but because the motives behind were far from you being considerate to your own body, but to live on other's expectations.

Maybe it was an inappropriate comment someone made, maybe it was because you though you didn't look as cute in his hoodies (a straight up lie), or maybe your insecurities increased as you two grew intimate, with touches that were more than friendly and finally showing your vulnerable sides to each other. The judging looks or mean observations that you endured through your life were a heavy weight on your heart, as you feared Xavier could turn disgusted at your body as other people did in the past.

But for Xavier, that couldn't happen even if the whole universe extincted and re-birthed. Not in a million years, not even in a billion. It simply couldn't happen because in his eyes, you were the brightest star of his life, which orbited around you and his sole purpose was to adore you, cherish you.

"People will judge me if I eat this much" That's so sad for them, they can't even allow themselves to enjoy delicious food, now dig in. "Your hoodie doesn't look as good on me" That's actually such a funny lie, because he's never been more enamored with you than now, hair messy and his clothes on after spending the night at his place. "Can you turn the lights off?" Oh well, he will do everything to make you feel safe, but he'll make sure to kiss every insecurity away until you comprehend you're the most precious treasure in his life.

You could bring him to tears if you insist on: not being hungry, not wanting to eat, asking for the plainest meals on earth below 200 calories each, refusing to let him carry you or ordering something "healthier" when you two go out with his friends, when he knows you're not actually enjoying that meal.

Worry will make him ask you question after question, not buying your obvious excuses. Once you tell him the truth, a wave of guilt will wash over him. He was—and still is—the one responsible for protecting you, isn't he? For reminding you how beautiful it is to be yourself, for making you feel like the most special girl in the world! Because in his eyes, you are all that and more. But that feeling will pass quickly, because it’s you who needs comforting, not his guilt.

He has a mental list of everyone who might have made inappropriate, malicious, or downright derogatory comments to you. He’s just waiting for the word from you—for you to give him the green light to have a little chat with these people. But… that dulled sparkle in your eyes makes it all clear to him.

He would do everything in his power to help you see yourself the way he sees you: as if you were his whole world, the best of the best, someone incredible, the person who fills him with pride day after day. Kisses and all the love in the world wouldn’t be enough to show how much he appreciates that, after all, you’re still there with him—completely his, and he completely yours.

Sylus buys you all sorts of things, and among them, he takes pride in buying you the most exquisite clothes he can find, just for you and your beauty. To him, there is no other definition of beauty than his precious little kitten wrapped in expensive fabrics of the finest quality and elegant designs, so he can’t understand why or how your eyes deceive you every time you look in the mirror.

What do you mean that dress doesn’t look good on you? Or that those jeans don’t flatter you? He doubts you realize how much willpower it takes for him to suppress his aether core, the one screaming to devour you whole and show you just how much your mere presence can overwhelm him. In the best way.

He probably wouldn't ask you directly, but would wait for you to open up to him, observing your reactions every time something related to your appearance came up. If he senses that you’re keeping your thoughts to yourself, he’ll gently broach the subject, assuring you that there’s no need—here or anywhere else in the universe—for you to conform to a “standard,” or that your beauty isn’t what captivated him enough to make him fall for you body and soul.

May God and all the forces of the universe protect anyone who dares to belittle or insult you, because it is very likely that person will never see the light of day again.

“We can go after work,” you were talking with a coworker, a new hunter, near your desk. They seemed weird, like your inner radar was not content with their presence. You tried to find an excuse, it was what, the third time this month they asked you out. 

“I am still a bit sore from the fall, maybe next time.” This was getting like a routine, and you were running out of excuses. 

“Then maybe on the weekend?” they chimed in, very blatantly clueless or blind to your body language, crossed arms, leaning away from them. 

“She said no.” Xavier appeared behind them like a silent storm, voice calm and steady as always, but he seemed… more awake. 

There was nervous laughter, stepping to the side, but still no hint was taken, and you were slowly planning what was the best place in the office to stage an accident. ‘Just a dinner’ echoed once more between you, but this time it was met with Xavier’s gaze.  

“If you want social dinners between the team, you need to speak to Jenna,” he said, moving just a step closer to you. “We have plans. Together.” There was pressure in his words, one that finally went through clearly to your colleague. Too clear, as he looked between the two of you and backed away. No, no wait! That was too clear of a not true message. 

You blinked and looked at Xavier, almost as shocked as the newbie was moments ago, now scrambling away.

“Xavier… he will start gossiping,” you exhaled, but just shook your head when he shrugged, looking at you with those stupidly mesmerizing eyes. “Thank you for the help.” 

He shifted his weight, hand on the back of his neck, ears dusted pink. It was half-heardable, just enough for you to catch the last sentence he murmured. “.... give him a reason to gossip,” he cleared his throat. “There is a new hot pot place,” he said, clearer and with a small smile “Do you want to try it out this weekend?” 

“The new one we got fliers last time we went on patrol?” the excitement distracting you from the mumbles that took you aback. When he just nodded you mirrored the gesture. “Yes please!”

“It’s… a date then” he said, and walked to his desk leaving you there, blushing. What? 

Zayne didn’t notice at first, for all the discipline he had to have — he needed, he wanted — he somehow missed one element sneaking into his life. It never seemed you had the intention of charming him or making him question his perfect status quo or wanting more. And he wasn’t sure if he should be impressed by it or alarmed. Maybe both, maybe neither. You didn’t use his routine; you were the unexpected rainbow in the sky — he could explain when it might happen, but the accuracy was never a hundred percent. What he was sure of was that you were never a quiet presence. Even if you weren't speaking, scrolling through your phone, or reading a book, he could sense you loud and clear. It was like his senses were tuning themselves in without his control, and that made him uneasy in the beginning.

You had someone close in the hospital, someone who had to go on visits now and then, but it wasn’t life-threatening. He was coincidentally helping out on a usual day when the staff was short, and from then on, it seemed it was a point of honor for you to at least say hi. He tried to pull away, just for you to make sure to knock on his door. Seeking him out at most random (in his mind) times. Offering him something sweet — pure bribery, not really, as you never wanted anything in return. 

Then he noticed you were reading something familiar, and his pulling away became harder. The sweet bribes turned into book recommendations, then a sporadic lunch breaks in Akso’s garden. Against all odds (not really - thank you Yvonne), you got hold of his number, asking beforehand, as one always should, if it was alright to chat outside the hospital. The attempt to build distance all but evaporated after that. 

“Doctor Zayne, the results you asked for are in.” Yvonne walked into his office late in the evening. 

“Thank you, Yvonne,” he said, looking at her from his screen, waiting for the rest of the news she had, the results could have been simply send to his email; they weren’t THAT urgent, and she knew it. There was also a smell she brought with her. 

“I also have a delivery. (y/n) stopped by with a fresh batch of muffins.” She handed him the pack, and he raised his eyebrow — it was a smaller pack than usual. Wait, when did they change to a first-name basis? “Those were specifically for you; we got ours,” she added, seeing him eyeing the box. He cleared his throat, trying to hide the fact that she read through him.  

“It’s not the healthiest to eat sugar so late in the evening,” he said, putting the box to the side, ending the exchange, in his mind anyway. He looked at her again once there was no movement. 

“Is there anything else?” he regretted his question once it was clear she had been smiling like she knew something he didn’t. 

“She just went to visit her relative. You should be finishing for the day, doctor.” 

“I will be after I finish those reports, Yvonne.” he didn’t understand why she said that; she was well aware of his working plan. 

“I will hold her up for twenty more minutes,” was her answer to the question he never asked. He looked at the box. He could at least thank you in person; that was what the etiquette dictated. 

He was done with the report in fifteen. 

He just heard the hushed ‘there he is’ when Yvonne smiled at you and walked back to the reception desk. 

He had the box in hand, stopping to thank you for the treat, he would have gotten away with the sweet crime of indulging himself with one muffin, if not for a bit of cream that was visible on the box. 

The giggle you let out was sweeter than the treat offered. He forgot, just for a second, that you were still in the lobby.  

“There was a place opening in town with the blend you mentioned. Would you like to visit it with me?” he said, not seeing when Yvonne stopped rustling around, now leaning on the desk not so subtly. 

“Yes! I can recommend a few good mixes.” Your face lit up, like the sun after a rainy day. 

“If you don’t mind, I would appreciate the company of someone with more expertise,” he agreed, slowly turning to the exit with you. 

“Then, it’s a date,” you said, all too excited at the prospect of the upcoming visit to notice him stop. You were still going on about the different leaves that mix well, oblivious to his pause. 

“Pay up,” a nurse’s voice sounded, and he turned his head when Yvonne scoffed. 

“But he invited her. She was just too quick.” 

“Doctor Zayne?” Your voice pulled him back from planning a lengthy talk he was going to give Yvonne on gambling with what appeared to be blatantly his dating life.

Caleb was curious. But, not at first. He ignored the signs in the beginning; he was good at that, rationalizing things the long way around, keeping himself on a tight leash. Stopping himself, thinking — no — he was sure, he could control the curiosity long enough for it to pass away like a dream in the morning light. Maybe he lied to himself, insisting that the world around him was too dangerous for anyone other than him. Yet there you were, orbiting near it, without even knowing he existed. How could he not be intrigued?

One peak here, another there, subtle at first. Observing from afar, from a safe space. All in the name of safety, of course — your safety. Because how someone like you ended up in the fleet was beyond him. Too tender, a fitting puzzle to its place, yet from a completely different set.

He swore he didn’t want anything other than to monitor the situation, so when your paths crossed, it was his downfall. He fell hard, trying to catch himself way too late, the feeling flying off like spatter in the air. By the time you began talking outside of the hangars, he knew your routine and much more. He understood his feelings too well.

He ‘bumped into you’, so he told you anyway. You couldn’t even imagine he knew where you would be on your day off. That was a plan that brewed in his little noggin. Cup of your favorite drink, he memorized and learned by heart, on a lazy errand run, like every other Saturday when you weren’t on duty. 

Who would he be if he didn't offer to help when you mentioned you needed to grab some materials from the DIY store? He was heading that way anyway for some paints and glue for his plane models. The simple quest for the needed supplies turned into a long walk and a discussion on both your hobbies. With banter that came as easily as breathing, something you found surprising. 

His plan didn’t end by just tagging along with you for some time. 

“We could grab lunch. I know a place, “ he smiled, still holding onto the box you brought like it weighed nothing. And the time flew by with jokes and light teasing. Something he was looking for, a way to peek at the way your eyes brighten with mischief, timid yet, but something he planned on exploring. A side even he didn’t know. Making you laugh and seeing as your smile spread on your lips, it was so hard for his gaze to return to your eyes with effort that you thankfully didn’t notice. Or maybe you didn’t mind. He hoped you wouldn’t mind in the future. 

The lunch passed with jokes and giggles. The weeks of talking opened a part of him that made you feel at ease — but not naively, you both worked for the fleet and you were aware of his reputation, even if he probably didn’t know much about you, so you thought — blessing of ignorance. 

He walked you back to your car, helping you pack the shopping, but refused the lift you offered; he still had things to take care of. And you would think that it would be it, an ending to a good, friendly outing.  “Soooooo,” he started when you were ready to get into the car, making you pause, head tilting in question.  “So?” you smiled, wondering if he was up for another banter, or if he was going to ask something. He shifted his hand on his hip, the easy way he did when he was off duty; the boyishness of it was refreshing.  “This was basically a date, right?” That made your mouth drop a bit, blinking not in confusion, but in realization that slowly washed over. He never waited for you to recover, not giving you a second to compose yourself, as a blush bloomed on your cheeks — damn, he was right.  “Wanna try a real one?” 

Rafayel always guarded himself. His thoughts, his emotions, his privacy, as much as he could with all the fame that followed him around. Maybe that was why he was stubbornly in denial once it hit him. And it hit him hard. It was like a truck just isekai’d him into this state of pure awe. His breath stolen, his eyes following you slowly. It was like the whole universe took a rain-check for existence in those few minutes, until you looked in his direction, and he turned away, almost walking into a wall, trying to get out of the room as soon as possible. 

But once in sight, once in mind. There was no escape, no matter what pout he would put on. He tried waiting it out like a sailor would when encountering a storm at sea. But being a sailor is such a weak comparison to what he was. The Lemurian heart knows what the Lemurian heart wants. 

He found you, over and over again. Just to see if he was imagining things, and every time he was proven wrong. Still, it was a choice to follow these feelings.

“We need to stop meeting like this, cutie. People will talk.” He smiled seeing you at one of his exhibitions, it was the only reason he was here. There was an amused smile already creeping on your face before you even turned to him. He saw it, basking in it for a moment. 

“You can always pretend you don’t see me and walk away.”

“And leave you alone? Looking that stunning without at least complimenting you? That would be a crime.” He watched, catching every small gesture, your ears turning pink. 

“Thank you for not being a criminal.” 

How many times did he stop you like that already? When did the reaction turn from surprised eyes to this lovely cherry pink? The same hue he was able to create from shells found on the beach — the same that was the dominant color of the centerpiece in this exhibition. 

“Shall we?” he offered his arm. 

“People will talk,” you used his words against him with a mischief in your eyes, the same one that sent him into a painting frenzy weeks ago. 

But you didn’t tease further and took his arm, letting him lead you further into the halls. Listening to you as you described the paintings to him, always in a way he wouldn’t expect possible for anyone but himself. You saw the paintstrokes and created a whole story, reading from his art like you had some secret decoder in your mind. It was not fair that his art spoke to you that much. He just had to shush any excuses you were still throwing around. ‘Not being an artist’, ‘but what do I know’, ‘I would be a terrible critic just bubbling on and on’. He enjoyed it too much. 

He always held his breath when one of his pieces got a comment of being ‘lonely’, pulling you away from it before you start reading the truths he was not ready for you to know.    

Because what if he is just too much and not enough at the same time?

When Thomas dragged him to the side, telling him about some boring art event that he wanted him to attend, or something like that, he was too focused on your hand on his arm. Thomas paused then, noticing the absentminded stare of his client —you were the only one listening — and the silence made Rafayel face him properly. 

“Maybe you would like to tag along? I heard they have the moving exhibition you mentioned last time?” He offered, but before you could say anything, Rafayel piped in. 

“I will pick you up,” he beamed. This opportunity made it so much easier for him to spend time with you. He will paint whatever Thomas wants after that. 

“I… am not sure I don’t want to impose.” You were hesitant, but he just waved his hand, like swatting away any of those ridiculous thoughts you might have. 

“It will be a fun date, don’t worry about anything,” he snapped his fingers, like the idea was brilliant in itself, trying hard not to lose himself in the way you shied away with this blush turning from cherry pink to Indian red, how many colors can you still show him?  “You just need to be packed and pretty. Which shouldn’t be a problem, you always are.”

Sylus’ fall was swift but not instant. It started merely by watching from afar, a new face not quite fitting into the place. A feeling of familiarity that made his eyes wander to you lazily, not tracking you, focusing on you when you stepped into his line of sight. The feeling hit him when you did something unexpected that made him pause — frozen somewhere between confusion, amusement, and a hitched breath of excitement. He didn’t like the feeling; he preferred the harsh things that made him cold to the warmth of a weakness. So he kept it close, under his usual self. 

It was an accidental meeting at first, outside whatever mess life was. A stop by the antique store, a meeting in a restaurant, or somewhere he needed to be for business — one of his coverups that needed monitoring. The pretense of not knowing each other, making it into a game. And he loved a good hunt.

“You are playing a dangerous game,” you heard behind you, the abrupt end of the conversation you had made sense. He had that effect, and he wasn’t one to pay attention to small games that couldn’t take the pressure. Your furrowed brows made him chuckle. Such a fussy kitten, angry that a mouse got away. He didn’t even have to try too hard to convince you to join him at the bar, the auction having a delay, which soured his mood until he spotted you in the crowd of nobodies. You always talked carefully, but the way the teasing could reveal a bit more of your nature made it worth the little innocent slip he did now and then. Fueling the fire was never so entertaining. The only thing more enjoyable was the way your eyes shone when you started talking about an item you were looking for. He never saw you bidding for an item on those auctions; it seemed a mere glimpse was enough to sate whatever desires you might have. He didn’t force that to reveal itself, not yet.

"Sorry," is the first word from your mouth, setting down the folded paper in your hands.

Xavier stares at the pale blue paper, and the lavender colored paper ring it goes with, both sitting innocently in front of you.

There's a distant, hazy memory of folding them. A late afternoon, school uniforms, a wooden sword. A sweet smile that had always been for you, then and now. Butterflies in your stomach, heart racing in your chest. Promises in paper of never being apart.

Something that felt like yours, but not. A dream, or a vision. A promise of something that was supposed to come, or already had. The strangest rush of déjà vu you'd ever experienced.

Xavier's eyes glaze over, far away from here, and you rush out, "I just—I was looking for that photo album, and I didn't—I was curious, and I didn't think you'd mind. I'm so—"

"It's okay."

His voice eases you in an instant, and he carefully steps around each preserved physical memory until he's sinking down next to you. He lifts a folded note, handing it to you, and your heart skips a beat when you open it.

Words are scrawled back and forth along every inch of the lined page, along with doodles of shooting stars and flowers. You brush your thumb over the familiar scrawl of his letters, asking to meet up after class again, and then look towards the even more familiar handwriting.

"Was this…" You swallow, brows furrowed, still struggling with the surge of countless memories that swam through your mind now. "…me?"

"Yeah." His voice is soft, pensive, as he rests his chin on your shoulder. Reading over the innocent conversation passed between friends in the back of a classroom. "I kept stuff from the first time I met you. And the second. And now, too."

"I can tell," you murmur, glancing over the movie tickets from one of your first dates. Used hotpot coupons, pressed flowers, bookmarks he'd borrowed from you, leftover photobooth pictures.

"I'm sorry," he's the one to mumble it this time, and you try to look at him, but his face is buried against your neck, refusing to let you see. "I need you to know that I don't expect you to be anybody other than who you are now. I just…"

"I know, love," you whisper, carding your fingers through his hair.

For as long as he lived, and long it was, he never wanted to forget.

He never wanted to forget you.

You let him hide his expression against you until he's ready to show it, and you smile down at him when he lets you see his honesty, and his anxiety. Face flushed, eyes wide and uncertain, then fluttering closed when you press a kiss to his frown, easing all that tension away.

"Tell me about it?" you ask, any possible trepidation erased by hope, nostalgia you wanted to make your own as much as his. "About…me?"

You gravitate towards the faded charms that are tied together, two stars linked. His lashes flutter when you lift it, tears clinging to the ends when you smile at the plush fabric.

Turning back to him, your smile widens, thumb wiping away the tear that stubbornly escapes his eyes.

"About us?"

He blinks a few times, wiping his other eye, and reaches for the paper rings.

"The first time I met you, you were sweet, and shy, and saw me when nobody else did." He runs his thumb along the purple paper, tracing each crease in the folds. "I liked you so much, but we ran out of time."

He takes your hand in his.

"The second time, you were fierce, a force to be reckoned with, and fought me on everything." He smiles, a chuckle caught in his throat, as his fingers gently caress your ring finger. "I knew I was in love with you then. I knew I always had been. But I let you down. I'm sorry I let you down."

"And now?" you breathe out, meeting the question in his gaze with a nod.

"Now," he whispers, sliding the paper ring up onto your finger until it's nestled where it was always meant to be, "you're kind, and you're relentless, and I love you. You're the strongest person I know, and you feel like home, and the rest of my life. You're everything to me."

Xavier's forehead rests against yours, his nose nuzzling against yours. Then along your cheek, until his lips are pressed to your ear, so you don't miss a single word.

"I want our life in pictures that I can look at with you. I want our books sharing the same shelves. I want to grow a garden together. I want to go to sleep with you, to dream of you, and wake up to you."

He's holding you tighter and tighter, and you're giggling, burying your face against his neck when he keeps rambling.

"I want you to tell me my cooking is bad, and that I drive too fast, and that I snore a little sometimes. I want you to get mad at me and I want to make it better. I want to be a better person for you."

"Xavier—"

"I want to get a little jealous sometimes—"

"A little?"

"And I want to keep you in our bed for days until you can't walk—"

"Xavier!"

You're laughing, and he's laughing, and you pull back to cup his face in your hands. You see him now with no more masks, no cards kept against his chest. Just him, and you, and what sounds like…

"Xavier," you say again, slowly, watching his eyes widen when you ask, "are you proposing right now?"

The prettiest pink blooms across his cheeks, and his eyes dart away, then back again when you gently shake his face for his attention.

"I'll do it again. I'll do it better," he promises, and you laugh, a choked but happy sound. He looks back down at the paper ring on your hand, his blush spreading to his ears. "I'll get you a better one."

"I like this one," you stubbornly insist, and now he laughs, his body beginning to emit a golden glow that only grows brighter.

To make your point, you take his hand in yours, sliding the blue paper ring onto his finger until it fits just as snugly as the one on yours.

"I want all that too," you whisper, gazing up at him, and you hear his breath catch in his throat. "I want you when you laugh, and when you're pouty, and all jealous too. I want to kick you out of the kitchen when you make the smoke alarm go off again. I want to go grocery shopping with you, and hold hands on the subway after work, and do taxes together."

His nose wrinkles. "I hate taxes."

With a playful roll of your eyes, you kiss the pout right off his face again. He leans in for another when you pull back, and you melt into him, wrapped around each other for kiss after kiss.

"But I'll do them with you." Xavier rests his face against your neck again, your fingers running through his hair. "I'll do everything with you, my starlight. Always."

You smile, looking at the paper ring on your hand. Grateful for every version of you that you'd been, for every you that he's loved. That you found each other again, and get to be in love now.

"Always," you murmur, and hold him close.

He Treats Marriage Like a Promise He Intends to Keep Forever 

Zayne does not take vows lightly 

Marriage to him is permanent in every possible sense 

When he married you, something in him settled. 

You are not temporary to him anymore. 

Not uncertain. 

Not “maybe.” 

You are his family. 

And he treats you accordingly. 

He Wears His Wedding Ring Constantly 

Rarely removes it 

Turns it absentmindedly while thinking 

Sometimes touches it during stressful moments without noticing 

If someone asks about it? 

His expression softens almost imperceptibly. 

“Yes,” he says simply. “I am married.” 

And the quiet pride in his voice makes your chest ache every time. 

Husband Zayne Is Extremely Attentive 

You never have to ask twice for anything. 

Not because he thinks you cannot do things yourself. 

Because he notices before you ask. 

And then, you don't even have to ask once.

Your tea already made 

Your side of the bed warmed up 

Medicine on the counter before you realise you are getting sick 

Your charger brought to you because he noticed the battery percentage earlier 

He loves through observation. 

He Is Softer at Home 

The difference is honestly shocking. 

Outside: 

composed 

reserved 

professional 

At home: 

quieter 

gentler 

visibly more relaxed around you 

His guard lowers in pieces only you get to see. 

He Loves Coming Home to You 

This is a huge one. 

No matter how exhausting his day was, the moment he sees you? 

Something in him eases. 

You can literally watch the tension leave his shoulders. 

Especially if you greet him softly. 

Especially if you touch him first. 

Domestic Habits He Develops 

Makes your coffee/tea automatically 

Keeps your favourite snacks stocked 

Checks the weather before you leave 

Reminds you to take breaks 

Fixes things around the house immediately 

You mention something once. 

It gets handled. 

He Is Protective in a Husband Way 

Not possessive. 

Protective. 

Walking slightly behind you in crowded places 

Guiding you with a hand at your back 

Pulling you closer if he thinks something is unsafe 

And if you are sick or injured? 

Oh, absolutely not. 

You are not lifting a finger if he can help it. 

He Loves Physical Affection 

He acts composed about it. 

But this man adores: 

your head on his shoulder 

your hand in his 

you curling against him in bed 

absentminded touches while passing each other 

He especially likes when you initiate affection. 

He never asks for it directly. 

But he melts every time. 

Sleeping Beside Him 

Warm 

Stable 

Safe 

Zayne sleeps lighter than people think, so: 

if you move suddenly, he wakes 

if you seem cold, he adjusts the blanket 

if you are restless, his hand finds you automatically 

Half asleep, he is very affectionate. 

More than he realises. 

He Is Quietly Romantic 

Not flashy romance. 

Intentional romance. 

Things like: 

remembering meaningful dates 

handwritten notes 

bringing you things because they reminded him of you 

late night tea when you cannot sleep 

His romance feels deeply personal. 

Arguments With Husband Zayne 

He does not yell. 

Ever. 

Instead: 

controlled voice 

careful words 

long silences when hurt 

But he also refuses to leave issues unresolved. 

“You are still upset.” 

Not accusatory. 

Just observant. 

He wants understanding, not victory. 

If You Call Him “My Husband” 

He tries to act normal. 

Fails internally every single time. 

Especially in public. 

You say: 

“My husband is picking me up.” 

And suddenly this man is: 

quieter 

softer 

thinking about it for the next three hours 

He Takes Care of You Automatically 

You realise after marriage that caring for you is instinctive to him. 

Not obligation. 

Instinct. 

If you are tired: 

“Come here.” 

If you are stressed: 

“You need rest.” 

If you are overwhelmed: 

“I have it.” 

And somehow, when he says it, you believe him. 

The First Time He Calls You “Wife” 

You nearly stop breathing. 

Because he says it so naturally. 

“So this is my wife.” 

Like it is the most obvious truth in the world. 

Like he still cannot fully believe he gets to call you that. 

Underneath Everything… 

Zayne loves with permanence. 

Steady. 

Patient. 

Reliable. 

The kind of love that stays through every version of life. 

The kind that says: 

You do not have to carry everything alone anymore. 

Overall Husband Zayne Energy 

Warm hands 

Late night conversations 

Shared silence 

Quiet acts of devotion 

“Have you eaten?” 

Forehead kisses when you are half asleep 

He Becomes Even More Attached After Marriage

Xavier already likes being near you

Marriage somehow makes it worse (or better)

Now he has an actual excuse.

“You are my wife. Of course I am here.”

Follows you around the house

Sits close whenever possible

Finds reasons to touch you casually

He just likes being with you.

He Is Extremely Affectionate in Private

This man is clingy when no one else is around.

Not in an overwhelming way.

But in ways such as...

resting against you

wrapping an arm around your waist

burying his face into your shoulder when tired

pulling you into his lap without warning

Physical affection becomes second nature to him.

He Sleeps Better Beside You

Xavier is someone who carries exhaustion deeply.

But beside you? He rests easier.

Sleeps closer than expected

Subconsciously searches for you in his sleep

Likes holding you or your hand under the blankets

Sometimes you wake up and find him wrapped around you like he moved there unconsciously.

Husband Xavier Is Surprisingly Domestic

He likes peaceful routines with you.

Especially...

grocery shopping together

lazy mornings

cooking (he mostly watches you)

folding laundry while talking quietly

slow dancing in the living room

He enjoys ordinary life because it is with you.

He Loves Calling You “My Wife”

Dangerously loves it.

You notice he says it whenever possible.

“My wife likes this one.”

“My wife is waiting for me.”

“I should ask my wife first.”

Every single time, there is this tiny softness in his expression.

Like he still cannot believe he gets to say it.

And he loves it just as much if not more when you call him husband.

He Is Protective

Xavier is gentle.

Until something threatens you.

Then suddenly he becomes...

more alert

sharper

impossible to move away from your side

He never raises his voice unnecessarily.

But the atmosphere around him changes instantly.

He Memorises Tiny Things

Not just important things.

Tiny things...

your favourite side of the bed

which foods you steal from his plate

what expression means you are upset even when smiling

the exact tone your voice takes when tired

He notices constantly.

Even when he seems half asleep.

Lazy Days With Him Are Dangerous

Because neither of you leave the bed.

At all.

You planned to be productive.

Instead...

tangled blankets

sleepy kisses

soft conversation

him pulling you back every time you try to get up

“Stay a little longer.”

And honestly?

You always do.

He Gets Jealous

Xavier jealousy is subtle but emotional.

But you know immediately.

He becomes...

More clingy afterward

Wants your attention more

Holds your hand tighter

Watches people carefully

His tone gets harsh. Just not with you.

And if someone flirts with you too openly?

He slides beside you and says something devastatingly simple like:

“She is married.”

Very calm. Very effective.

He Loves Taking Care of You

Especially when you are tired or sick.

He becomes incredibly attentive...

brings water

makes food

checks your temperature

stays close without hovering too much

And if you try to insist you are fine?

“You do not have to pretend with me.”

That line destroys you every time.

Xavier Is Softest at Night

Late nights with him feel intimate in a different way.

He gets quieter.

More honest.

Sometimes you catch him just looking at you.

Not saying anything.

Just… appreciating that you are there.

When you ask what he is thinking about, he usually answers,

“You.”

Like it is obvious, because to him, it is.

Arguments With Husband Xavier

He hates hurting you. Truly hates it.

So arguments with him are...

quiet

emotional

honest

If he realises he upset you unintentionally, you can visibly see the guilt settle in.

He always wants to fix things.

Always.

He Is Secretly Very Romantic

Not in a flashy way.

But deeply heartfelt.

Things like...

stargazing dates

sleepy forehead kisses

keeping things you gave him

remembering random comments from months ago

getting you flowers

His love feels gentle and enduring.

Underneath Everything…

Xavier loves like someone terrified of losing time.

So he cherishes...

ordinary moments

closeness

warmth

your presence beside him

Marriage with him feels less like dramatic passion and more like,

finding the person you want every future with.

Overall Husband Xavier Energy

sleepy cuddles

soft smiles only you get to see

“come back to bed”

forehead kisses

warm domestic quiet

hands intertwined

He Absolutely Adores Calling You “My Wife”

This man abuses the privilege immediately.

Constantly.

“That is my wife.”

“Have you met my wife?”

“My wife made this.”

“My wife is prettier than all of you, actually.”

Completely shameless.

And every single time he says it, he sounds proud.

Husband Caleb Is Extremely Affectionate

There is no such thing as personal space anymore.

You are getting:

hugs from behind

random kisses

hand holding

forehead nudges

him flopping dramatically onto you when tired

If you walk past him?

He is touching you somehow.

He Makes Home Feel Warm

With Caleb, home becomes alive.

Music playing. Food cooking. His laughter from another room. You hearing him call your name just because he wants your attention.

Everything feels softer when he is around.

He Loves Domestic Life More Than He Expected

Caleb genuinely enjoys doing mundane things with you.

Especially:

grocery shopping

cooking together

late night snack runs

decorating for holidays

arguing playfully over what to watch

He makes ordinary moments feel important.

He Is Protective But Playful About It

Most of the time, his protectiveness comes out as teasing.

“Careful.” “You are banned from hurting yourself.” “Do you know how expensive hospital bills are?”

But when something actually happens to you?

The humour disappears instantly.

And that change is terrifying.

He Worries Constantly

Even if he hides it behind smiles.

texts to make sure you got home

reminders to eat

checking if you slept enough

asking about your day in detail

He notices more than people think.

Especially when it comes to you.

He Loves Physical Closeness While Sleeping

Caleb is absolutely the type to:

pull you against him

wrap himself around you

complain if you get out of bed too early

Half asleep: “Come back.”

And somehow you always do.

Husband Caleb Is Your Biggest Hype Man

This man supports you aggressively.

You mention a goal once and suddenly he is:

encouraging you constantly

bragging about you to others

reminding you how capable you are

No one believes in you louder than Caleb does.

He Is Surprisingly Soft After Arguments

Arguments hit him harder than he lets on.

He hates distance between you.

Even if he is frustrated, he still:

checks if you ate

asks if you got home safely

hovers nearby

And eventually?

He always comes back softer.

“I do not like fighting with you.”

He Secretly Loves Married Routines

Things he pretends not to care about but absolutely does:

wearing matching rings

shared closets

your things mixed with his

introducing you as his spouse

hearing you call him “husband”

It makes him ridiculously happy.

He Gets Jealous More Easily Than He Admits

Not toxic jealousy.

But visible jealousy.

pouting

clinging more

interrupting conversations to steal your attention

If someone flirts with you too much?

Suddenly his arm is around your shoulders.

“Sorry,” he says casually. “Married.”

The smug smile afterward is unbearable.

He Loves Making You Laugh

One of Caleb’s favourite sounds is your laughter.

He will:

tease you

tell terrible jokes

act dramatic on purpose

Just to hear it.

And if you laugh really hard?

He looks at you like he just won something.

Sick Days With Husband Caleb

He becomes unbearably attentive.

making soup

piling blankets on you

checking your forehead every ten minutes

dramatically accusing you of “betraying your immune system”

But underneath the teasing?

He is genuinely worried.

He stays close the entire time.

Underneath Everything…

Caleb loves with his whole heart.

Openly. Warmly. Without hesitation.

Marriage with him feels like:

safety

laughter

loyalty

being adored every day without doubt

The kind of love that fills every corner of your life until you cannot imagine loneliness anymore.

Overall Husband Caleb Energy

warm hugs

teasing kisses

laughter in the kitchen

“come here for a second”

dancing badly together

falling asleep tangled together

Husband Sylus Is Intensely Devoted

Sylus does not treat marriage casually.

To him, you are not simply:

his partner

his lover

his spouse

You are his person.

Permanent. Chosen. Kept close with terrifying certainty.

The ring on your finger means something profound to him.

You belong together now.

Completely.

He Calls You “Wife” as a Statement

Not teasing.

Not soft.

Certain.

“My wife.”

And somehow those two words sound possessive, protective, and loving all at once when he says them.

Especially in front of other people.

Especially when someone is staring too long.

He Gives You Everything

You mention liking something once?

It appears.

Immediately.

Examples:

jewellery

clothes

books

cars

flowers

entire vacations

You: “Sylus, I do not need all this.”

Him: “I know.”

That does not stop him.

He Learns Your Preferences With Scary Precision

Sylus notices everything.

your favourite wine

how warm you like the room

what foods you crave when upset

which side of the bed you sleep on

the exact look you get before asking for something

Eventually you stop questioning how he already knows.

He Is Extremely Protective

Not overbearing.

But absolute.

If he thinks something threatens you?

The atmosphere changes instantly.

His calm becomes sharp. Cold. Terrifying.

And afterward?

He checks on you first.

Always.

Domestic Sylus Is Softer Than Anyone Expects

Outside the home:

intimidating

controlled

unreadable

At home with you?

Different man entirely.

Still composed, yes.

But:

quieter

warmer

touchier than expected

You get the version of him no one else earns.

He Loves Physical Possession

Not ownership in a toxic way.

More like constant reassurance that you are there.

hand on your waist

fingers around your wrist

pulling you into his lap

resting his chin on your shoulder

He likes keeping you close.

Instinctively.

Husband Sylus Is Secretly Very Indulgent

Especially with you.

You mention wanting something? Done.

You are tired? Plans cancelled.

You cannot sleep? He stays awake with you.

This terrifying man folds for you constantly.

He just hides it well from everyone else.

Sleeping Beside Him

Warm.

Dangerously comfortable.

Sylus sleeps lighter than people think, so:

he notices when you move

wakes if you seem distressed

automatically reaches for you in his sleep

And if you are cold?

Without waking fully, he pulls you closer.

Like instinct.

Jealous Husband Sylus

Oh.

This is where the possessiveness becomes obvious.

Still controlled. Still calm.

Which honestly makes it worse.

If someone flirts with you:

his hand settles on your waist

his gaze sharpens

his voice lowers

“This is my wife.”

Simple.

Final.

Terrifyingly effective.

He Loves Spoiling You

Not because he thinks you need it.

Because giving to you makes him happy.

He enjoys:

expensive gifts

luxury experiences

beautiful things that remind him of you

But the most dangerous part?

He pays attention to emotional gifts too.

The things that matter.

He Is Deeply Touch-Starved

Sylus acts composed, but once married?

You realise how much he craves your affection.

Especially quiet affection.

your fingers in his hair

forehead kisses

laying against him silently

your hand reaching for his automatically

He relaxes immediately when touched by you.

Arguments With Husband Sylus

Controlled. Cold at first.

Not cruel.

Never cruel to you.

But distant.

And that distance hurts far more than shouting would.

However: Sylus cannot stand unresolved tension between you.

Eventually he appears beside you quietly and says something like:

“Come here.”

And somehow it becomes impossible to stay angry.

He Is Softest Late at Night

Night changes him.

Especially when it is just the two of you.

He becomes:

quieter

more honest

more willing to linger

Late-night conversations with husband Sylus feel dangerously intimate.

Like touching parts of him no one else ever sees.

Underneath Everything…

Sylus loves with permanence.

Ancient devotion. Fierce protection. Absolute loyalty.

Marriage with him feels like:

being treasured

being protected

being desired and understood all at once

The kind of love that says:

I chose you in every lifetime. Of course I would choose you again.

Overall Husband Sylus Energy

expensive gifts paired with quiet intimacy

protective hands at your waist

low murmured praise

late-night vulnerability

“stay close to me”

dangerous man, soft only for you

In fact, Caleb looked happier when after the ceremony, MC bounded up with him with a grin, patting his hair and congratulating him for getting married and finally, finally moving on. To which he blushed and replied to her with something inaudible to you.

So from the very beginning, there’s always been three there has always been three in the spaces you occupied with your husband, three at the altar (you wondered if Caleb had imagined it was MC standing in your place on your wedding day), three in the bed (you could even imagine MC lying in empty space inbetween you and Caleb as you slept, and three at the table (at first before Caleb had learnt more about you, the dishes he served were all reminecent of MC’s favourites). You knew MC haunted, haunts, your marriage. But like any good wife, you looked the other way and hoped for the best. 

Although it was not that you expected for Caleb to start acting like your husband right off the bat (you told yourself he needed time to heal). Not that you expected him to treat you like MC. Not that you never stopped praying that the underdog (you) of the story may prevail eventually. Yet the silence in his cold, gray penthouse, the lack of physical touch between the two of you, the meals consumed in harrowing conversation (you’d have to give it to him for always trying to ask you how your day was everyday), the nights spent so far away from each other, was slowly convincing you that this marriage was nothing but one of convenience. All you did was try your best to keep holding onto the hope that maybe things would change with Caleb for the better. 

About two years into the marriage, Caleb surprised you by asking if you could have a child together. 

You were shocked he was the one to ask. 

Your remembered first attempt at intimacy had gone miserably. You could freshly recall on your wedding night when Caleb had loomed over you in the darkness of the bedroom, his chest heaving - though he hadn’t moved to do anything, anything at all - with spots of tears forming in the crease of his eye. After ten minutes of silence, he rolled off you.

‘I— I’m sorry…I- I can’t.’

You had told him it was okay. And you never mentioned it again, so you were coloured surprised when Caleb meekly asked you, as if he thought you might get upset, to try for a baby. 

Fortunately for him, it only took about three times before you presented him with a positive pregnancy test. Fortunately for you as well, since each attempt was very awkward, terrifyingly so. You had no idea where you should have out your hands, your legs, if he even wanted your hands on him— and neither did Caleb know what to do with his touch. You’d think he didn’t want a baby by how hesitant he was acting. However, eventually when you did hand him that test with two pink lines, Caleb’s face practically glowed. You had never seen your husband, in all these years of marriage, look so…happy, so much more like his actual age than the cold, gloomy colonel you were married to. For the first time, you saw the sunny Caleb that you only got to know through photos stuck in dusty albums in the corners of your home. He hugged you, kissed you, and laughed in relief. 

Relief? 

Honestly, you were somewhat relieved too. Usually, Caleb would be away for prolonged periods of time, always muttering about something to to with the fleet, a mission, training, before departing for sometimes weeks at a time, but ever since you got pregnant, Caleb cut back on prolonged duties and stayed by your side if he could. There was one thing you could never complain about him, was that when it really came down to it, Caleb was not a bad husband by the books. He constantly cooks, cleans, cares and caters for you, and even more so now, he’ll drop whatever is on hand at moment’s notice to come running to you if you said you felt the slightest bit of discomfort. Plus, with all the baby essentials Caleb had purchased, they had really livened up the house much more. You watch as he assembles them without the need to look at the instructions whilst sitting on the floor of the living room. As he fusses about with you taking the right supplements, about getting enough sleep…it’s cute. It’s the closest feeling you’ve ever experienced to having a real husband,  despite being married for well over two years now. 

On a muggy afternoon, you inched out of Caleb’s grasp (he has now found it in himself to sleep closer to you with one hand usually over your stomach if you allow it) and wobbled your way to the walk in closet for some airier clothes. As you sifted through the racks, you accidentally knocked out a few photos from Caleb’s colonel service coat, which fluttered down to the bottom of the closet. Crouching down (whilst you still could), you inspected the photos. 

Oh.

It was a laminated photo of your baby’s ultrasound. Not just that, but on the edges of the photo, written neatly in his handwriting in pen, were the words: [name]’s ultrasound appointment on xx/xx/xxxx. 

Adorable, you thought, that Caleb carried this around with him. You privately wondered if he would proudly show it off to his co-workers or his underlings. You hoped he might, maybe even boast a little about how lucky he and his wife was. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, wondering if this marriage was finally taking a step into the right direction. 

But right next to that photo was that necklace. When U Come Back. You knew very well the story behind that necklace, how MC had given it to him before he left for the aerospace academy. How he used to wear it, 24/7, but had at least the decency to stop wearing it at all times and only keep it on him, after he married you. Yes, at least he had the decency to now never take off your wedding bands. Your eyes glazed over the necklace again. Bitterly, you wondered if he’d ever want to carry a photo of him and you someday. 

Nevermind. You dried your eyes quickly. At least in this marriage, both he and you, are getting something that you both wanted, something that you will both cherish more than anything. 

A bouncing baby girl.

He wanted your baby. He needed your baby. He wanted to be a father, because he wanted to be a father, a nurturing, loving figure, right? And not for any other reason? Right?

Right.

Two weeks later, whilst tidying up the kitchen, your hand bumped against a bright yellow lunchbox patterned with little apple stickers, long forgotten beneath a pile of documents and papers. Fondly, you picked it up. 

In the very earliest days of your marriage, you had done the domestic, wifely thing of making your husband a lunchbox before he departed for work every morning. And he had returned an empty box everytime, down to the last grain of rice being picked clean. You still remember the fuzzy feeling of seeing Caleb smile at you, thanking you for such a delicious meal, how his subordinates had all fawned over the presentation, how delicious it was, how lucky the colonel was to have such a lovely wife…

So why not do it again? You thought merrily, after all, you haven’t made him a packed lunch in a while. Maybe showing up at his work with a delicious lunchbox might perk him up. Excitedly, you got into your car and made your way down into central Skyhaven. 

Entering the fleet HQ, you were immediately guided to your husband’s office. 

You were about to turn the handle and step in - usually there weren’t much visitors in his office in the middle of the day - but a chorus of loud voices stopped you. 

“And to Caleb! The newest dad-to-be!”

“The first of all of us to be a father, actually.”

You heard a round of clinking cups. It must be Caleb, inviting his flight school friends to celebrate the impending birth of your child. At his office though…strange. But it must be because he’s been so busy, he hardly had any time to go anywhere except his workplace and his home.

“Woah…no, no more.” You recognised that as Caleb’s voice. You could imagine his hand gliding over to cover the surface of his glass.

Drinking? In the middle of the day? Seriously? You snorted, hand going down on the handle again, But at least it’s to a good cause. Caleb being a new dad and all.

“But seriously. Here’s also to your marriage not being a total disaster!” 

Your stopped before you could push against the door.

“It’s not. A total disaster.” Caleb said, his voice a bit slurred though not completely drunk.

“Yeah, yeah…we all know you had the hots for MC, but she ended up marrying that sexy doctor instead of the big bad colonel, didn’t she, oof—!” 

A thud. Caleb had probably slammed whoever said that against the wall. A series of ‘ooohs’ followed.

“Kidding, kidding…”

“You better be.” Caleb dusted his hands off, sinking back into his seat. “I’ve long moved on from MC. I even have proof.”

“Oh yeah? Don’t tell me it’s—”

He pulled out the ultrasound picture that he kept in his uniform pocket, showing it to everyone in the room.

“I had a child with my wife. Can’t you see how much I’ve moved on already? I can have a child with someone who’s not MC. See?”

Tears stung your vision. 

So thats what he was using that picture for. 

Not for a happy memory’s keepsake, no. But to show the world that he, Colonel Caleb Xia, the yearner, the lover, the oh-so-perfect man…has moved on from his sweet MC.

…

You quickly threw the lunchbox you made away, and fled the building. You needed to get away from him, in that moment. You didn’t want to linger on in this kind of feeling anymore.

…

Time passes a lot quicker, you found, when it wasn’t just you in the house all day. With Caleb by your side (more or less constantly in the final few months of your pregnancy) the days had quickly passed. And before you knew it, there was a living, breathing infant in your arms. 

The birth was easy, and again, you were grateful for Caleb’s support (he never left your side in those six hours, plus you’ve heard far too many horror stories of baby daddies bringing their Xbox, or not showing up at all…) though admittedly you swore at him multiple times and eventually snapped at him to wait outside. However, part of you feared he might react to an actual baby, his and your baby, with regret and hesitation. You couldn’t shake the fear that Caleb might feel prejudiced against a baby you made with him instead of one borne from him and MC. But those fears quickly evaporated when you saw Caleb crying, sniffling, holding the little pink bundle in his arms.

Both Caleb and you were overjoyed, though also albeit scared, naturally like most first-time parents. He was seriously dedicated at every step. Again, you’d have to give it to him for being a good dad. 

After returning from the hospital, he never allowed you to get up in the middle of the night to soothe the baby. He never complained about doing the messy work that came with babies, often willingly taking care of all her wants every day as if trying to prove a point. He now even tries to come home earlier and go on less long-distance fleet missions to spend more time with the baby, something he’s never done for you in the time you were married. You watched as he poured his whole heart into being a good dad for a tiny little girl. A perfect masculine figure. Ever so sensitive to what she needed.

But what about what you needed?

Sometimes when you come home after a day out with your friends or a solo trip somewhere, the moment you open the door to your home, you feel as if your entire world is behind that doorway. That despite all the freedoms Caleb has given you in this marriage (the financial freedom, ‘you can go anywhere you want’ , you can do whatever you wish), your world had drastically shrank to the man sitting in the grey parlour, who wasn’t even facing you.

On other days, he wasn’t even there. 

Gone to MC’s. Emergency.

….you weren’t exponentially surprised by the reason. Caleb frequently rushed to MC’s house to deal with her emergencies. At this point, you simply shrugged it off and continued on as you usually would. Only that when you went to the nursery to check on your daughter…

The crib was empty. 

Your heart dropped. You had frantically dialled his number. No response. You racked your head for thousands of possibilities. Did someone take her? Did he mention he was taking her anywhere? Did he…did he take your child? Taking off with MC to a place where you’d never find him again? Did Caleb pack up and leave altogether? With your baby?

You told yourself it couldn’t be true. That he’d never do something like that. He wouldn’t. That Caleb is a good, kind man. But to what distances he would go for MC, you had no idea. All you knew was that you’d like it to be you instead of her. 

Ten minutes later, you were banging the front door of MC’s house. 

Surprisingly, it was her husband, Zayne, who answered. 

“[name]? What are you doing here?” Zayne asked, surprised. 

He didn’t even get to answer before you shoved past him, calling Caleb’s name. 

“Caleb, Caleb?!” Your mind flashed with possibilities of where he could be. Maybe he was already gone. Maybe he took MC and drove up to the airport already. But surely not, his car was parked outside, and, and…

There he was. In MC’s backyard, sleeves rolled up, that stupid grin on his face as he…tacked a nail into a piece of plywood, MC hovering over him with a tray of lemonade. You stopped in your steps where the stone of the house met grass, calming down, as you watched your husband beam up at MC, sweat glistening down his muscular arms, droplets forming on his healthy skin, a damp V soaking the top of his t-shirt. Time seemed to slow as Caleb reached up, took a sparkling glass, smiling at MC gratefully, a smile so bright you’ve never seen in all those times you ever offered him something. 

“Caleb!” You snapped, finally loud enough that he whipped his head around, MC too. “Caleb! Where’s our daughter—“

Before you could even hear his reply, a beaming MC gasped in delight and smothered you in a hug. 

“[name]! You’re here too! That’s perfect, you should stay and have dinner! Ooh, I’ll tell Zayne to set an extra space at the table.” She spun around, shouting into the open patio doors. “ZAAAAAYNIIIIEEEEE?” 

She talked at such a fast pace, you barely even got to get a word in on how you didn’t really want to stay for dinner, how you just wanted to demand where your daughter is and go home. In that moment, you didn’t even really care if your husband went home with you. But just as you opened your mouth…

“Aw, pips, there’s no need, I’m almost done with building this part already.” 

MC pouted, that little, pathetic, faux-childish pout she always made at her dear gege. 

“C’mon, Caleb, staying for dinner is the least you could do for me, after rushing over on such short notice to build Zachary’s treehouse.” She said, referring to hers and Zayne’s son. She turned to you and smiled, dropping her voice to a whisper, “Zayne is so useless when it comes to things like this, and my gege is the best!” 

She turned back to Caleb. “And bringing your adorable little daughter too! I’ve been dying to meet her. You know I’ve asked you so many times already.”

You paused. “Wait a minute. You…asked Caleb to…to bring…”

“Yes!” MC replied, “I know she’s only a few months old, but all I’ve been asking Caleb is to let me meet my adorable niece!” 

It was almost laughable. The ‘emergency’ that required Caleb’s immediate attention was the construction of  a treehouse for MC’s son.  You couldn’t help but wonder how many other of these such trips to her house that Caleb took were also something else, something less significant but labelled as an ‘emergency’. 

You turned to Caleb, absolutely pissed. 

“You. You took my daughter just like that? You took her without asking me?” 

“I told you I was going to MC’s—“

“You didn’t tell me you were taking her!” 

“I thought you would have assumed—“

Right. Like you should assume, like every other little bit of your marriage, you should have assumed that Caleb’s judgement was right. That your husband is doing his best for you. For this marriage. That you should assume every step he did, he was thinking of you first, and not MC. You should always assume. You’d be happier off that way. 

But obviously, you were much more headstrong than Caleb let on. You were no longer the nervous blushing bride that had once optimistically stood by his side. 

“You have no right to take her and tell me, her mother, to just assume anything about the safety of her own child.” You replied, in a tone that surprised Caleb so much, that he wasn’t sure how to reply.

MC, caught in the middle, immediately pushed in to diffuse the tension.

“Aw, don’t be like that, my sister-in-law.” She smiled, holding onto your arm. “Don’t blame Caleb, it’s my fault. I asked him to bring the baby.” 

“No, no.” Caleb cut in, standing up and putting a hand onto MC’s shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself.” 

He turned to you, frowning. “[name], I think we’ve just blown this way out of proportion. No one’s been hurt and you’re acting if I’ve kidnapped someone!”

“You know that’s not what I—“

“Come on.” Caleb gently took your hand, herding you towards the house. “Our daughter’s fine. She’s asleep upstairs.”

He led you past the living room, past the kitchen where a frazzled Zayne stood, wordlessly watching as Caleb led you up the staircase and into the nursery, familiar with the layout as if it was his own house, to where your daughter was sleeping peacefully in their son’s old crib. 

“See?” Caleb sighed, “Nothing’s wrong. You got all worked up over nothing.” 

You wanted to yell and him and tell him that this wasn’t nothing. That somehow ‘nothing’ always seemed to be associated with his behaviour with MC, and that none of what happened concerning MC in your marriage could just be swept under the rug like that. Maybe that’s how he preferred it, you thought bitterly.

“I want to go home.” Was your only reply.

Caleb’s shoulders slackened. “C’mon, let’s just stay for dinner…”

“I want. To go. Home.”

Your husband seemed to give up this case, and sighed. “Alright.” He replied, “Let me get my jacket.”

Suddenly, both of your heads turned, as you heard MC rap her hand against the nursery doorframe. 

“Caleb…can I just speak with you for a second before you go…?”

You wanted to question if she had been lurking outside, listening, but Caleb cut in front of you. 

“Of course.” He replied.

He took MC by her shoulder“We’ll just be a minute.” He called to you.

“You don’t mind, do you?” MC asked graciously. 

“Sure.” You replied evenly. “I’ll just be in here. Come get me when you’re done, okay? I’ll dress our daughter to leave.”

You saw Caleb nod, before escorting MC down the stairs. You made sure they both saw you close the nursery door.

You mad good on your promise to stay in the nursery and dress your fussy little daughter (who was looking more like Caleb by the day). Five minutes later, gently creaking open the nursery door, you snuck outside, thinking they’d finished their conversation already.  But you realised they hadn’t gone far. As you stood on the stairs with your back against the side of the wall, you could clearly hear Caleb and MC talking in the living room behind the staircase. 

Their words made your heart beat out of your chest.

“Is your wife always so…uptight?” You heard MC mumble, her voice suddenly sultrier than before.

“No, she’s just…” You heard Caleb began.

I’m just what, Caleb?

“…she’s just emotional, that’s all.”

You heard MC snort. “Emotional? Hardly. I seem to remember that at your wedding, she was ever so meek and crittery, so nervous, so deferent, so grateful to marry the big strong colonel…” She sighed, “And I thought that, y’know, hey! She might do a lot of good for you. She’s like a squeaky mouse, just like another version of me, how I was your ‘pipsqueak’…” Her voice suddenly dropped to a whine. 

“I thought maybe you found a better replacement.”

You heard sounds that indicated that Caleb stepped forwards to hug her. 

“MC…nothing and nobody could ever replace you.” Caleb said gently.

They were silent for a long time. Wetness had began to gloss your eyes.

“Well…on that happy note…” MC mumbled, “I have some news for you.”

“Hm? What is it?” 

“I’m…” She giggled, “I’m expecting.”

“You’re what?!” You heard Caleb exclaim.

“Shhhh! I said I’m expecting. I’m going to have another baby.” MC replied hushedly. 

“Oh wow…congratulations!” Caleb laughed. “Guess I’m ready to be uncle to another mini-zayne, huh?” 

MC let out a small happy sigh. “Not quite.”

“What do you mean? Do you think this baby’s going to look more like you, or—” 

“No, no…”

A pause. MC gazed up at your husband, clasping his hands.

“Caleb…the baby is yours.”

…

You couldn’t bear to hear the rest of the conversation. You sprinted back up the stairs, going back into the darkness of the nursery. You hated yourself for it, but you couldn’t help but sob, sob over this marriage which you’ve always held hope to, this marriage which, admittedly, up to that moment you were still clinging onto the hope that things may turn to the better, that your fate might change, that this wasn’t all a mistake, that your marriage wasn’t just a helpless fantasy on your part…

But look at you now.

Crying on the floor of the house which belonged to the woman who your husband was obsessed with. Crying with a baby that was only born into the world to prove a point for your husband, to prove that he had moved on. Or worse, your poor baby daughter wasn’t even born to prove a point anymore, she had only served to prove a lie, a lie that was quickly unravelling at the hands of the man who demanded her existence.

Caleb…oh, Caleb.

Your tears stopped when you heard someone coming up the stairs. Immediately, you dried your eyes and stood up, trying to slow down your breaths and calm yourself down. You refused to face your husband like this. You refused to make a scene. Not now, anyway.

“Ready to go?” He asked, pushing the door open. 

You didn’t turn for a second. In that moment, time seemed to stop. 

Slowly, you turned to him, your daughter held tightly in your arms.

“Sure.” You smiled, “Let’s go home.”

…

Home. Such a funny word.

As you watched the glowing skyscrapers pass you in the passenger seat, you suddenly felt very calm. The air was wet from rain, and a cool summer breeze had began to sweep through the night. You thought you might feel rage, or resentment, but instead…all you felt was a strange sense of sereneness. You were disappointed at Caleb, sure, but not as surprised as you thought you’d feel.

Which felt worse than being angry. 

You’d rather feel that rush of adrenaline, make a scene, throw something at his face and scream at him and cry and slap him, maybe, but no, no, all you felt was a churning pit of emptiness in the pits of your stomach. Your belly empty, while MC’s swelled with life. His life.

“What do you want to have for dinner when we get back home?” Caleb asked you, breaking the silence.

You shrugged, wondering when, or if that all, he was going to confirm for you what you had overheard. 

“Don’t be like that.” He nudged you with a half smile, “You can pick anything. Anything at all to eat, it’s up to you.”

You didn’t want to eat with him. Even the thought of sitting at the same table, across him, made you feel sick. The thought of your mouth wrapping around the utensils that once touched his mouth, his mouth that once warmed MC’s tongue. Biting into food prepared by his hands, his hands that once traveled across MC’s naked skin. A sickening scene.

You didn’t want anything to do with him. 

“I’d rather you decide.” Came your firm reply. “Since you seem to decide everything that goes on around here.”

Caleb sighed, a long heavy drag. “[name], I don’t know what you want me to tell you.” He spun the wheel, pulling into the familiar street. “So can we please just drop the attitude?”

“What attitude?” You asked, fluttering your lashes as often MC did when she wanted to appease her dearest gege, “I really don’t mind what we eat. Why would I?”

“[name].” He said more seriously, “Please. I don’t want a scene. Our baby’s asleep in the back and I’d really like to keep it that way.”

Right, so you’d be fine having an argument if our daughter wasn’t here. Speaking of children…

“MC’s looked glowing today, don’t you think?” You mentioned, sliding out of the passenger’s seat almost the second Caleb rolled the car into the driveway. 

He shot you a strange look as he unlatched your daughter from her baby seat in the back. “Yes…she did. Why do you ask?”

You shrugged innocently, unlocking the front door, “Nothing, I just meant that motherhood agrees with her.” 

Caleb said nothing in reply. You watched as he carried your daughter inside, not a muscle in his face giving away a single hint of suspicion or anxiety. You knew what kind of man your husband was. It wouldn’t be so easy to gauge out the truth from him, or any semblance of emotion he didn’t want to express for that matter. But you were expecting this.

“Do you think she’s going to have another one?” You said coquettishly, shrugging off your coat.

He couldn’t help it this time. You watched from behind as his shoulder twitched, ever so slightly, for not even half a second. 

“I wouldn’t know.” Caleb replied, his tone ordinary, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. She and Zayne are a happy couple, after all.” 

Your husband would have made a great actor, you thought humorlessly. You wondered if he was tearing himself apart inside.

“Actually.” You raised your hand, smiling. “I don’t want dinner.”

Caleb turned, cocking an eyebrow at you. “What? But you—”

“I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You nodded, one foot on the stairs. “I’m going to bed early. It’s been a long day.”

“But it’s only—“

“Goodnight, Caleb.”

“…goodnight.” 

…

Weeks had passed. You’ve continued to act as if nothing had gone wrong. Caleb went to work, came back from work, cooked, played with your baby girl (who was now crawling all over the place) and went to bed. The only aspect that he felt…off, about, was how pacified you acted now. 

You didn’t pepper him with questions about his day anymore.

You weren’t there to ask if he was feeling alright the moment he came home.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to stand closer to him.

It was as if the marriage had undergone mitosis and split itself in two, as if the straining cell it had once been has finally pulled away from the other half. All that remained was two individuals, standing inches apart in the kitchen, sitting a meter away in the living room, sleeping in beds that felt miles away from each other at night.

Your scents didn’t even mingle together anymore. The air in your home felt stagnant. You were sure that if you hadn’t got used to it, if you weren’t you for a second and you had visited your current home for the first time, you would assume that there were no inhabitants in it at all. 

You could imagine it now. The edge of the scissors pulling the winding umbilical cord into a taught triangular shape in the sterile air, about to snap shut, about to separate the two entities, mother snd baby, to deliver individuality and freedom to both…there just needed to be a little push. A little force. Just a little more, and you would be able to forever sever this rotting chord that ties you to this marriage . 

Every day, Caleb would come home and wonder what changed your demeanor so much. And you’d wonder when your husband would grow the balls to tell you that MC is pregnant with his baby.

He didn’t on week one. Or two. Or three. Or four. And as you can guess…

He didn’t speak a word when MC posted a gender reveal (week 19) online, the cutting of the triple-tiered cake revealing flamingo-pink insides. Caleb liked that post, you saw.

He also didn’t mention a word when MC announced a baby shower (week 28), which you were also invited to (the gall. can you imagine the audacity?). You had acted perfectly amicable, presenting MC with a hug and a basket of gifts. Caleb had gone to congratulate Zayne. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony.

By the time the date hit 30 weeks after you overheard their conversation, you had had enough.

If Caleb was going to be a coward about it, then you would force him to confront the truth.

…

Week 34 was fast approaching. You knew a normal pregnancy would end at about 37 weeks to 40, so when Caleb, suddenly, in the middle of your morning shot up from his seat after answering a call, you were surprised.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“MC had th—her baby.”

“Already?” You hummed. “It’s a bit early, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Caleb gasped, practically sprinting to put on his jacket hanging by the bannister, “That’s why I need to go see her. Now.”

“No wait!” You stood up, grabbing his wrist. “I’m coming too.”

“No.” He replied. “You shouldn’t. Someone needs to stay home with our daughter. And I won’t be long.”

“No, no!” You chirped merrily, picking up your daughter from her high chair. “Let’s bring our baby. After all, she should get to know her new half-sister.”

You enjoyed watching the colour suddenly bleach from his face.

“What?” His tone was chilling, shaken, almost boyish. 

“You heard me.” You fished out the car keys from the little ceramic dish near the front door. “Come on.“

“[name]—“

“I thought you were in a hurry to go.”

“[name].” Firmer, now.

“So let’s go.”

“[NAME]!” Caleb yelled. It was the first time he had yelled at you.

“What is it?” You blinked back.

Caleb’s eyes were bloodshot. His shoulders heaved. 

“How long…have you known?” 

“I think the better question is, Caleb,” Your face, he thought, was frighteningly unreactive. “When were you planning on telling me?”

He threw his hands down, turning away from you. “I was going to tell you today. After the baby was born.”

“So you can force me to face the consequences of your actions? If I like it or not? Is that why?”

“No! Don’t put words in my mouth.” He faced you again. “I was going…I was going to…”

“To what?” 

“To work something out.”

“And how was that going to end?” 

“I—“

“I’ll tell you how that was going to end, Caleb Xia.” You stabbed your finger against his solid chest. “It would end in me having to make sacrifices. It would end up in me in pain, over and over again, just to cope with how you’ve decided to treat me! I will be the one at a loss while you, you will get what you’ve always wanted. Every decision you’ve made was never for me. It was always either for you or for MC! I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth when you tell me that you’ll ’work something out’. I know you’ll give me the short end of the straw. You already have, for every day we’ve been married. Yet you never realise, because of course in the end whatever happens would work out for you, because it always fucking does!”

“[name].” Caleb breathed, “Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to—“

“I’ll be home as quick as I can.” He said, pulling on his shoes at the door. “And then we’ll settle this.”

You laughed.

“Oh, Caleb.” 

You watched as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“I’m sure you’ll find yourself right at home.” You said with a smile. 

…

“Caleb, come quick!” MC giggled, waving her hand to usher him in. “I just sent Zaynie to go out to the cafe to buy me some lunch.”

Caleb looked over at the bassinet, where a tiny wriggly baby wrapped in white lay. His lips broke out into a smile, a little wider than when he had first met his daughter with you, before gently, very gently reaching into the blankets, prying them apart, to reveal the scrunched up face of his new daughter.

He instantly folded, a finger stroking her wrinkly cheeks.

“Hey there, sweetheart…” Caleb cooed, as the baby made an uncommitted sound. 

She was tiny. Wrinkly. But to Caleb, she was one of the cutest things he’s ever seen. She was part of him, and part of MC, after all. 

Caleb took an awed breath in, as she fluttered her eyelashes, opening her eyes to reveal…

Big, green eyes.

Her eyes were green. 

A bright, mocking, hazel.

Just.

Like.

Her father’s.

Zayne.

…

“What the fuck?” Caleb spun to MC, “You said—“

“Well…” MC smiled devilishly, a telltale sign that she knew the entire time, “I assumed wrong, I guess.”

“But you told me it was from that one night when—“

“There’s no way I could have conceived her with you from just one night, compared to how many times I’ve fucked Zayne around the same time.” She noticed Caleb wince in uncomfort at the mention of her activities with her husband. “You were right. Aren’t you always, gege.”  

“But—“

“Caleb, the baby isn’t yours.” MC snapped. 

He stood by the beside, shellshocked. 

She exhaled out of her nose, smoothing out her blankets. “There is no ‘but’ to it.”

Caleb let out an exasperated breath. “I can’t believe you lied to me. You lied to be about something this important!”

“I had to!” Suddenly, her voice turned an 180 and became a pitiful, little cry. 

“Gege…I was trying to help you…you married [name] and seemed to be so upset all the time, so I had to think of a way to get you out of that marriage. And see, now…” She smiled, “She’s out of the picture and will never bother you again.”

“You don’t understand!” Caleb shook his wrist out of her grasp, “I would never have…have put [name] through all this if it wasn’t my child to begin with.“

“Come on, Cay, you’re just being selfish now.” MC picked at her nails, “It’s all for the best. You didn’t enjoy being married to her in the first place anyway. I can’t believe you went through all the trouble of having a kid with her just to prove that you were over me. You’re so pathetic, gege.” She chuckled.

Caleb felt as if he could not move. MC’s voice seemed to become a distant echo, until…

“Gege?”

He snapped back into reality. Caleb frantically began pulling on his jacket, turning his back to MC, his shallow breaths filling the room. 

“Gege, don’t go.” She said softly, “It’s all for the best. You’ll still be an uncle to the baby. To our family. We’ll be together again, aren’t you happy about that?”

Caleb’s hand tightened on the door. He turned to look at MC, with the most hollow look in his eyes she’d ever seen him possess. Emptier even than the time she renounced him as her gege.

“No.” He replied curtly, pushing the door open. 

“Caleb Xia.” MC barked. “Xia Yizhou!”

For the first time, Caleb didn’t look back to her.

…

Caleb wasn’t sure how many speed limits he broke while making his way home, but from the look of the bumper, he should be expecting a few tickets soon.

He was in a daze as he got out of the car, almost stumbling to the front door of the house, unlocking it. 

He was ready. To apologise. To kneel before you and beg for forgiveness. 

Anything at all.

To go back to the beginning. To make things right, as they should be between a husband and his wife.

To be a family. You, him and your precious baby, that you gave him.

He opened the door.

The house was silent.

Almost empty.

Empty…

The empty table. The empty living room. The empty bedrooms. The empty nursery. It was as if the house had reversed to its first day Caleb had moved in, where every inch was shrouded by plastic wrap and packed in cardboard. When no life had been breathed into his home.

A home without love is just a house, after all. How long had Caleb been trying to change that?

How long had he stayed, in denial, that his goal had actually been long fulfilled?

Where are the people who made his house a home?

“[name]?” Caleb called out. “[name]? Where are you?”

A prickling feeling creeped up against his spine as Caleb made his way back into the kitchen, where you had the fight just before he left. The plates had been cleared away, leaving only a sticky note taped onto the table.

You finally got your dream. I hope you can be happier with MC and your family with her. It’s all for the best. Love, [name] :)

Caleb fell to his knees.

A choked cry echoed through the house.

What dream? What family? 

What had he forsaken to chase after his selfish needs?

He wasn’t happier. Not even a little.

Not at all.