Chapter 2

I stared at the closed door for ages, totally dumbfounded. Come on, I was basically throwing myself at him, and that was all I got? All the butterflies and excitement I'd worked up just fizzled out after that whole routine.

I couldn't help but get annoyed. Every single time, it was the same old story.

One round and he was done, like he was just checking off a chore. After that, it's as if he put a padlock on his pants. No matter how much I tried to tempt him, he wouldn't even lay a finger on me.

Was he keeping himself pure for someone else or what?

I'd been a good girl all my life. This really wasn't what I deserved.

I muttered to myself, but when I spoke up, I put on my polite face.

"Oh, thanks. You're such a sweetheart," I said.

A few seconds later, Lucas called from outside the door, "No need to thank me. That's what husbands are supposed to do."

Gritting my teeth in frustration, I grabbed my phone and started venting to Charlotte about what just went down.

[Does he even know what a husband is supposed to do? Is he supposed to be my husband or my maid? And what's the point of all those 'seven times a night' stories if I'm not even getting any real action?]

Charlotte replied in a flash: [Relax, at least Professor Smith is super hot, and he ticks off all three of your must-have boxes for a partner.]

That just made me even more pissed off.

[Yeah, he ticks all three boxes: tall, hot, and handsome. But I never expected he'd be a sprinter in bed, not a marathoner.

[One round and he's done; then he turns into my own fairy godmother, quietly washing my underwear and fussing over me. It's like we're stuck in some old-fashioned romance, but who can really escape reality?]

By the end, I couldn't help but start singing, just venting my frustration.

My rant made Charlotte crack up, and she shot back a reply in no time. [If you want him, just go for it. If he won't cooperate, just force it, and if that doesn't work, slip him something.]

I rolled my eyes and shot back: [Me? Seriously? Girl, I've got some pride. If I make the first move, it'll just look like I'm begging him for it.]

Charlotte totally got it, but then she shot back: [Yeah, but honestly, Professor Smith washing your underwear afterward is kinda adorable. But how do you know he's not secretly doing something naughty with them?]

Her imagination was wild, and honestly, I was just speechless.

[Please, my old man would never do anything that freaky. I literally walked past him butt naked and he didn't even flinch. Seriously, am I less appealing than some old underwear?]

Charlotte replied in a flash: [Girl, I seriously feel for you. You're at your peak, craving all the good stuff, and this is what you get? You used to be so full of life before you got married, and now, thanks to him, your world's gone totally dull.]

Honestly, aside from not being much fun in bed, he was pretty decent. [Well, what can I do? He's the master of the lights every night.]

Charlotte sent me a speechless meme, then suggested: [Girl, seriously, your life is like a dead pond. Why not spice things up a bit? Maybe if you give Professor Smith a little excitement, he'll finally wake up.]

I perked up right away: [What are you thinking?]

Charlotte sent me a mischievous grin meme, then replied: [Come on. Let's go get a foot massage and chill. We'll give Professor Smith a little scare and figure out how to pull this off.]

I shot back: [No way, it's late. I'm about to crash.]

Charlotte sent me a voice message. She sounded totally fed up. [Sleep? Girl, get up and party. You're just bouncing between home and work every day. He probably thinks you're just some furniture that never leaves the house.]

Charlotte's nagging finally wore me down. I gritted my teeth and gave in: [Fine, whatever. I'll change clothes and do my skincare routine. Come pick me up.]

After I got out of the bathroom, I crouched down in front of the closet, rummaging through my underwear drawer. I pulled out every folded piece, checking them one by one, scratching my head in confusion.

Huh, why were a few missing again?

This wasn't the first time it had happened, but I never really paid much attention. Lucas usually handled the laundry, so I just assumed he threw some out when they got old.

But this time felt different.

The ones missing were my carefully chosen "battle gear," the lingerie I picked out just for our weekly rendezvous. I only wore them once last week, so there's no way they'd be worn out already.

But it was just the two of us living here.

No housekeepers, no guests ever come over.

I crouched in front of the closet, my mind racing with questions.

Did I just misplace them somewhere?

Or could it have been him?

All that pent-up frustration, plus realizing my favorite sexy underwear had just disappeared, hit me all at once.

I was just about to complain to Charlotte when Lucas walked in, holding a glass of water.

I looked up at him, my tone edged with annoyance. "My clothes are gone."

He paused, totally calm. "What clothes?"

"My underwear," I said, locking eyes with him. "A bunch of sets are gone, just vanished."

Lucas, who never lost his cool even if the world was ending, suddenly choked on his water.

He doubled over, coughing, his ears flushing pink.

I narrowed my eyes, taking slow, deliberate steps toward him with a predatory look.

"Why are you so jumpy? Don't tell me you actually took them," I teased.

Lucas turned away, grabbed a tissue to wipe the water from his mouth, his voice still steady, though he spoke a little faster than usual.

"Come on, we're married. Why would I need your underwear?" he said, trying to play it cool.

I scratched my head, thinking what kind of wild idea that was.

He was so straight-laced and buttoned-up. Why would he ever snatch my lingerie?

It was not like he could wear them, so what was the point?

I was just about to go over and apologize, maybe try to charm him a little, but he suddenly made a beeline for the water dispenser.

"After soaking in the bath for so long, you must be thirsty. Let me pour you a glass," Lucas said.

I glared at his back, snapping, "I'm not thirsty. I don't want any water."

Lucas paused, then turned toward the kitchen, his tone still gentle.

"If you don't want water, how about a glass of milk?" he offered.

I glared at his back, wishing I could burn a hole right through him.

All this man ever did was drink water or milk.

After finishing my milk, Lucas helped blow-dry my hair. I was sitting at the vanity, about to do my skincare, when I tried to say something and suddenly felt a sharp sting in my mouth.

"Ow, that hurts," I muttered.

I leaned closer to the lamp and saw a raw spot on the inside of my lower lip. The skin was peeled.

"What's wrong?" Lucas asked.

Lucas came back from washing the glass, saw me frowning and holding my face, and rushed over, worry written all over his face.