Mr and Mrs Sim ⋆ s.jake

Chapter 38

Rose's POV

Happiness is a sinful illusion—nothing more than a break in suffering before it reclaims you. And six sleeping pills won't get you out of this life; they'll only take more of God's strength to pull you from this deep slumber.

Trust me, I tried.

"Jae—honey," I called softly, following his every movement in the dressing room's full-length mirror as I slipped on my most painful pair of heels, one foot at a time.

"Hm?" He paused, locking eyes with me through the reflection, still in the process of knotting his tie. For the last twenty-four hours, he hadn't uttered a word, as if his mouth were broken. I had to make do with grunts and silence. Did I have any other choice?

"I've given up trying to figure out why you're suddenly mute; it's pointless. But this time, I want to understand why you're wearing your wedding suit. Please." Even if my marriage, once whole and happy, belonged to the past, I could never forget a significant date—my love for him hadn't faded yet. So unless I had amnesia, Jaeyun must have imagined some false occasion. "So?"

I watched the slight frown on his brow and the subtle dilation of his pupils: he hadn't realized his mistake. What planet was his brain on? I began to wonder what kind of drug that bastard Nishimura Riki had given him to disorient him so much. Then Jaeyun coughed, cutting short my analysis, averting his gaze and mostly avoiding my inquisitive eyes.

"I asked you some—"

"Sorry but fuck you." He cut me off.

A shiver of hatred ran down my spine. I glanced over my shoulder at his hardened expression before retorting, "Four fucking words. Congrats, is that all you can do?"

No, he could hit me on impulse.

He sighed, squinting hard as if to ward off the headache my sarcasm was giving him.

"All my best suits are at the cleaners—bloodstains, obviously. This was the only option, and somehow, it still fits. I haven't worn it since we walked back down the aisle together. Remember?" Of course, it still hugged his muscles perfectly. We spent too much time at work to even have lunch together once a week. Neither of us had put on a few pounds—the mark of a happy, well-fed marriage. Instead, we consumed lust until we consumed each other.

I laughed nervously, then turned fully around and took a few steps toward him. "I don't know where you're going or why, but if you come back here with this suit stained by your recklessness—your violence, your cruelty..." I grabbed him by the tie, yanking him closer until I could feel his breath against my hair. "You'll pay for it."

"F—" I tightened the cloth around his neck, pulling it tight before securing it. He froze, cursing under his breath and tilting his head back.

"Fuck me? You're the second man to say that to me in less than twenty-four hours. Maybe I should start considering it." I turned to my jewelry box, ignoring the way his throat tightened, his Adam's apple jerking with a rough swallow.

"Don't take it too seriously," he snapped, his voice strained. "I don't want to. I really don't."

"Jaeyun," I said sharply. "If you don't want to, neither do I." Despite the hatred I felt for him, there was an urge to be gentle, to soften my words. "You don't have to say no ten times—one is enough, and I'll always respect it."

"Is this the part where I start crying?"

He tore his suit jacket off the hanger, slung it over his shoulder, and pushed past me on his way out of the dressing room. I scoffed.

The thought of stopping him crossed my mind—but hell no. A trial was set to begin in less than two hours and yet, it wouldn't be the one where my husband answered for his crimes. That was the painful, gut-wrenching truth. And I had no place beside a criminal anymore.