Six years into our marriage, my usually quiet and reserved husband suddenly started acting strange. Every day, he would spend an hour grooming himself, two hours working out, and three hours bringing me lunch, all while warily eyeing every young man who passed by. I couldn’t understand what had gotten into him until I stumbled upon his diary. “She left the house without her wedding ring today. Was it mere forgetfulness or a deliberate act? I can’t figure it out. I’m too afraid to ask. I’m losing my mind…” “She liked that male intern’s post again. Is she trying to drive me insane? It’s all because of that shameless man…” “I’m aging, rotting, becoming ugly in the mirror. No, I must make my appearance more perfect. It’s the only way to keep her from leaving me.” “I feel so helpless, so desperate. I’m five years older than her. I’m not young anymore. As I age and lose my looks, her love for me will fade. This is my fate…” Adrian and I have been married for six years, and we’ve never had a fight. At least, not in front of others. In everyone’s eyes, he’s handsome, successful in his career, gentle and accommodating towards me, respectful and polite. He’s the epitome of the perfect husband. But only I know the suffocating nature hidden within this perfection. During lunch break, a colleague leaned against the pantry counter, vividly complaining about getting home late last night. She described how her husband sulked, how much effort it took to appease him, and how she ended up being banned from wearing short skirts. As she finished her story, she suddenly turned to me with a challenging smile in her eyes. “Olivia, Mr. Adrian is so stern in business. He must be an incredibly possessive and jealous husband in private, right?” I lowered my eyes and smiled without answering, a hint of bitterness rising in my heart. It was quite the opposite, actually. For the past six years, Adrian had been so honest and reserved, like a programmed robot. He never got jealous, never questioned who I was hanging out with, never cared what time I came home, and never even touched my phone. Colleagues often say that love always comes with possessiveness, and without possessiveness, there is no love. So, perhaps Adrian… had never loved me? Was I the only one who had fallen into this marriage? My fingertips unconsciously tightened around the warm glass in my hand. The glass contained the brown sugar water Adrian had prepared for me before leaving this morning. He had silently placed the cup in my handbag before turning and entering the closet. Recently, he seemed particularly concerned about his appearance, even using the cologne he used to hate. Thinking about this, I suddenly had some not-so-good thoughts. On a whim, I opened the home surveillance camera feed. On the screen, Adrian was working out directly in front of the camera. He was shirtless, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he moved. His perfect muscle lines looked particularly sexy in the sunlight, with beads of sweat rippling across his abs as he exerted himself. His low-rise workout pants hung loosely on his hipbones, sliding down slightly with his movements before he casually pulled them back up. Every move seemed like a dangerous invitation, extremely seductive. My throat tightened, and my fingertip hovered over the zoom button for a moment before finally pressing it. However, the next second, the screen suddenly switched, and my boss’s video call abruptly popped up. All my amorous fantasies were instantly shattered. I quickly closed my eyes, my fingers pressing against the desk, almost crushing the mouse.
My boss’s call was to notify us about a dinner gathering tonight. Thinking about the man at home, I instinctively reached for the wedding ring on my ring finger, only to find it missing. I was stunned for a moment before remembering what had happened two nights ago with Adrian. I had taken off my wedding ring and placed it on the bedside table to avoid hurting him during our intimate moment, and I had forgotten to put it back on for the past two days. As soon as my colleagues received the message from the boss, they all started notifying their families. After a moment’s hesitation, I also walked to the corridor to call Adrian. As usual, Adrian answered immediately. His voice was low and sexy, with a hint of allure: “Olivia.” My face inexplicably heated up: “Adrian, I have to go out for dinner with my colleagues tonight. I might be home late.” After I finished speaking, the other end of the phone suddenly fell into dead silence. Adrian didn’t make a sound; even his breathing seemed to have been cut off. Sensing something unusual, I called out softly: “Adrian?” “I’m listening.” Adrian came back to his senses, his voice sounding as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper, the end of his words trembling imperceptibly: “Do you… really have to go?” I was about to say “yes,” but he interrupted me with a trembling voice. “Will you come back tonight? Olivia, will you… will you come back?” I nodded in confusion: “Of course I’ll come back.” “Really?!” His volume suddenly increased, then abruptly fell silent. Only erratic breathing could be heard through the receiver. “No, I… I mean, I’ll wait for you to come home. You can come back whenever you want, as long as you come back. I’ll always be at home waiting for you…” I sensed something odd about him, so I added another reminder: “Remember to leave the light on for me.” This time he didn’t hesitate, answering promptly as if afraid I might change my mind: “Okay.”
Our boss is notorious for being a penny-pincher. The department dinner was arranged at a small and messy outdoor food stall. By the time the dinner finally ended, my exposed neck, calves, and wrists were covered in red, itchy mosquito bites. Enduring the physical discomfort, I sent several drunk colleagues home one by one. When I finally pushed open our front door, it was already 10 PM. It was drizzling outside. The sensor light in the entryway lit up, revealing an empty living room—Adrian wasn’t home again. I took out my phone to check the time, just about to give him a call when suddenly the door behind me was pushed open. Adrian appeared in the doorway, soaking wet from head to toe. Water droplets fell from his messy hair tips, forming small puddles on the floor. His usually crisp white shirt clung to his body, outlining his toned waistline, while his suit jacket and tie were nowhere to be seen. He no longer had the dignity and composure of his usual self, looking more like a miserable, broken stray dog. After a few seconds of eye contact, Adrian spoke first, his tone eerily calm. “You’re back?” I nodded, quickly pulling him inside: “Where have you been? How did you get so wet? Come in quickly…” Adrian moved mechanically, his gaze slowly sweeping over my eyebrows, eyes, nose, and lips. Finally, it settled on my neck. Then, he suddenly froze. I caught a whiff of a familiar greasy smell on him, very similar to the scent from the food stall where we had dinner tonight. “Adrian, did you go to pick me up? I’m so sorry, you couldn’t find me because I was…” “I don’t want to know!” He abruptly cut me off, his voice intense and sharp, frantically avoiding my gaze: “I mean, I didn’t go to pick you up. I just… just went for a walk.” I awkwardly licked the corner of my mouth: “I see. Well, Adrian, tonight I…” Adrian’s eyelashes trembled violently: “Enough, I’m… I’m tired! I need to take a shower, need to shower…” With that, he hurriedly rushed into the bathroom, as if escaping from something, his retreating figure frantic and panicked.
I stood stunned in the living room for a moment. I could clearly hear that besides the pitter-patter of water in the bathroom. There seemed to be a few muffled, desperate sobs. Worried about Adrian, I walked over and knocked on the door. “Adrian, what’s wrong? Are you crying? Are you feeling unwell somewhere?” After a moment of dead silence, his calm voice came through: “You heard wrong. I’m fine.” Hearing him say he was fine, I returned to the sofa, reassured, to continue watching my drama series. Adrian came out after his shower. He stood silently in front of the full-length mirror not far from me. Carefully matching his clothes and tie. Hearing the movement, I glanced at him instinctively: “Aren’t you off work tomorrow? Why bother with a tie? It’s such a hassle and a waste…” Upon hearing this, Adrian’s fingers suddenly froze in mid-air, his knuckles turning an unnatural white. I rubbed my eyes: “This tie style is a bit outdated. I’ll go pick a new one for you this weekend.” Adrian didn’t say anything, slowly lowering his hand. The tie slipped from his grasp, falling silently to the floor. “Is it just… the tie that’s outdated?” he murmured, his voice barely audible. I leaned closer to him, catching a whiff of his pleasant, faint cologne: “Adrian, what are you saying?” Adrian suddenly turned around, his bathrobe stirring up a damp breeze. I was startled. I could now clearly see his reddened eyes. His tightly bitten lower lip. And the somewhat inappropriate lace pajamas he was wearing – the ones I had deliberately bought for him when we first got married. He had refused to wear them back then, but now… As I had imagined, a straightlaced man wearing such clothes indeed had an impact. My breathing became irregular, and I struggled to look away: “Haha, well, you’re certainly still young at heart…” However, as soon as I said this, Adrian seemed to have been struck, shuddering violently: “Young…?” I nodded with a red face, taking the initiative to hook my fingers with his: “Well, it’s getting late, shall we…” Adrian froze for a few seconds, then jerked away from me as if electrified. He bit his lip, his voice choked. “I… I need to handle something in the study. You should go to bed early.”
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “296546”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic
Leave a Reply