Husband

Ch.2: Thundering Fear (part 1)

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[WARNING]: This book will contain mature themes such as: Violence, Disturbing Imagery, Sexual content, extremely unacceptable behavior expressed by the antagonist, kidnapping, Dark, uncomfortable and disgusting topics, etcetera. Not suitable for readers under 18. A 'Yandere' should never be sought out in real life as they are incredibly toxic, dangerous and abusive. I do not condone the actions and/or the ideals of 'yanderes', this is purely fictional and should never be emulated in reality.

[WARNING/TRIGGER WARNING (TW)]: This chapter contains depictions of gore and violence. The antagonist (the 'yandere') is supposed to be unsettling and immoral (abusive), I do not condone his ways.

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"Husband?" You called out for him. Failing to notice the quivering smile on his lips, he loves that pet name so much.

He hummed in response as he sprinkled a pinch of salt into the stew he's cooking. Your mouth waters at the aroma, he's a wonderful cook.

"...Did you have any friends?" You crossed your fingers behind your back, praying to a higher power that he will not get upset.

Husband did not reply to your question for a while. His soft hair covered his eyes, but not his frowning lips. It's making you increasingly nervous, did you anger him again? You hope not, it's not very nice to deal with that version of him.

"Only you. I didn't need anyone else."

You sighed in relief, he sounded a bit sad. Though, you doubt that he's telling the truth, but you can't pry too much lest he might start saying things that hurt you.

"...Was I a bad wife?"

"It doesn't matter what you were back then. You're a wonderful wife now." He hissed, whipping his head to you. That must have struck a chord in him, did you do something to make him so fearful of your past?

You jumped a bit before slumping your head down in guilt. "Sorry." You apologized whole heartedly.

"If you really are, then stop asking about your past. It's irritating." He grumbled as he turned back to focus on his cooking.

Both of you fell silent, the sounds of his metal ladle clinking and the thick broth boiling away fills the kitchen. You stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. You're bored and lonely, you have the strong urge to be with... someone else.

But who? You only know Husband in this world. It's like you're missing someone that does not exist, it made no sense to you. A subconscious memory, perhaps? You can't just brazenly tell Husband about how you're feeling, he's going to go ballistic.

You sat next to the dining table, propping your head up with your hands. Sulking and dangling your legs as you wait for Husband to finish cooking. The blond spared you a glance from the corners of his eyes and sighed. You're naturally curious, and combining it with boredom spells disaster.

"I'll be done in a minute, (y/n). Wait in the living room." You looked at him.

"Can I help you with cooking?" You asked earnestly.

"No. The kitchen is a dangerous place to be. Go to the living room and rest there."

"But—"

"Out."

"I'm bored—"

"(Y/n), do as I say." He turned his head to glare at you.

Do as I say... you paused in your tracks, where have you heard that before? Surely... you must have heard it from him, but at the same time, you're unsure.

Almost automatically, you blurted out: "Proceeding to do as told. My apologies, Sir."

Husband's blue eyes widened in... horror. Why horror? And why did you feel that it's necessary— almost routine to say that specific phrase?

"...you— Why did you say that...?" His voice was wavering and his eyelids were twitching. It scared you to no end.

"I-I don't know, Sir— Husband! I just f-felt like I had to—"

"Go to bed."

"What—"

"Go to bed. I'll bring lunch to you soon." He pointed at the exit. He looked away from you and allow his hair to obscure his eyes.

You said nothing and hesitated on following orders. Wait. The way of addressing him as 'Sir' comes so naturally.. not 'Husband'. Why is that so? Were you in a professional setting with him before? That's the only logical explanation you can conjure up as of now.

You climbed up the stairs agonizingly slow. You're really curious, who exactly is Husband? He's acting extremely suspicious and doing a terrible job at hiding it. You took one last peek at his form, stirring away at his pot.

It's going to take at least an hour before he's done. Maybe you could do some investigation in the library. That's the only place you haven't touch, this house doesn't have a basement or an entrance to the attic. Odd. Maybe you missed it?

You deem the library to be too risky. You didn't want to get caught doing anything Husband isn't fond of.

You sighed. Looks like you'll need to postpone it to another day when he's at work.

While making your way towards the bedroom, you noticed a particular detail— or lack thereof.

There aren't any physical pictures of the both of you. No framed wedding pictures, no portraits, no legal documents, no visual indication that the both of you were even a couple. Except the diamond ring, but that's easy to miss.

You're growing more and more certain that Husband kidnapped you and held you captive, but you didn't want to make it a solid conclusion. Who knows? Maybe Husband is just a very strange man and you married him because of that.

You rubbed your chin. Maybe his wallet has some clues in there, an ID... perhaps?

You closed your eyes and struggled to remember where he kept them.

The nightstand drawer.

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Author's Note: Hello. MoonlightTofu here. Thank you for reading 'Husband'. Please leave a vote if you liked it and also please tell me what you think about the story so far.

Status: Unedited.

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