𝐅𝐞𝐢┃18+

┃58┃

Yang stood in the master bedroom, buttoning up his black shirt with movements that were precise and elegant.

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the polished furniture and intricately woven carpet.

The room’s rich mahogany furniture and ornate decor, with a lingering sandalwood scent, contrasted sharply with the tension hanging in the air.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed his glum wife sitting quietly, her hands resting demurely on her knees, her posture calm but distant at the news of his departure.

The sight of her, so serene yet sorrowful, tugged at something deep within him.

“Love.” His deep voice cut through the silence, cajoling yet authoritative. “Come, help me with my tie?”

Fei looked up, her eyes meeting his briefly before she stood up and approached him. Her steps were slow, almost unwilling, as if weighed down by an invisible burden.

She reached for his tie, her slender fingers deftly working the fabric. Standing on her tiptoes to reach his collar properly, she draped the tie around his neck with practiced ease.

It was clear she had done this many times before, a routine imbued with silent intimacy.

The delicate scent of her body wafted up to him, a peaceful reminder of her presence.

Yang couldn’t resist; he leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss. Today, he was unable to hold back. For some indescribable reason, he just wanted to touch her, to feel her all the time whenever she was around him.

Fei’s hands paused, the tie forgotten as she felt the press of his cool lips. Her initial response was passive, almost mechanical, as she tried to focus on her task.

She broke the kiss gently, trying to continue her work, but Yang’s persistence was clear as he moved in again. His hand cupped the back of her head, pulling her closer.

Although they were physically close, there was a wide emotional distance between them, a barrier that words couldn’t breach. Fei didn’t want to be a source of comfort for her husband when he barely acknowledged her wishes.

“Husband, please?” she mumbled, her voice a soft plea, trying to pull back. But Yang’s temper flared, his need for control overwhelming his better judgment.

His grip on the back of her neck tightened, his fingers digging into her soft skin, and he crushed their lips together, his voice a low growl.

“Kiss me back.”

Fei’s resolve wavered under the pressure of his demand. She hesitated, then responded, but there was no submission in her kiss. Instead, there was a sharp, numbing pain as she bit down hard on his bottom lip.

Yang jerked back, stunned, as blood oozed from the wound, the metallic taste filling his mouth. He stood there, stupefied, his mind struggling to process the sudden shift from dominance to pain.

It was numbing, as though she intended to rip off his lips.

Noticing him in a trance, Fei seized the moment, pulling away from him entirely and bolting from the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway as she ran for her dear little life.

Yang looked unusually calm as he brushed his thumb across his lip and examined the blood, a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth at the sight of it.

He felt a surge of intrigue by his wife’s defiance, a wild spark in her that he hadn't fully appreciated until now.

The man stood in front of the ornate mirror, his eyes narrowing as he took in the evidence of their recent encounter.