Chapter 2
"Aren't you going to take the bouquet? My arm's getting sore," said Jonathan.
"Just leave it there." I lowered my gaze to the floor, struggling to hold my emotions in check.
Jonathan set the roses down and slipped an arm around me, pulling me close.
"What's wrong?" His head rested against the curve of my neck, his breath hot against my skin, his voice muffled.
"It's late. Go to bed." I nudged him away.
"I can't sleep unless I've made peace with you." He lifted his head and looked straight into my eyes. His eyes were like dark gemstones, carrying emotions so deep and tangled that I couldn't read them.
Then he leaned in and kissed the corner of my lips. Every time he tried to coax me, he was infinitely patient.
That was when his phone rang.
Jonathan merely glanced at the screen before declining the call.
It rang again.
He declined it again.
By the sixth call, I couldn't stand it anymore and shoved him back. "Answer it."
It was as if my words permitted him. He obediently accepted the call right in front of me.
His breathing was uneven. Whether from the kiss just now or the endless ringing, I couldn't tell.
He didn't say much, but the voice on the other end came through crystal clear. "Did you get home? Thank you for keeping me company tonight, Jonathan. I had such a great time, all thanks to you."
I got up and went back to the bedroom. By the time I lay down, it was nearly one in the morning.
I stared out the window. The city lights were still bustling, but I felt utterly alone.
At all times, why did that call, far from urgent, have to come through in the middle of the night?
The conversation wasn't long, yet even long after he hung up, Jonathan didn't come in.
Half an hour passed. In the haze of drowsiness, I felt myself pulled into a faintly fragrant embrace, scented of sea-salt body wash. My awareness slowly surfaced.
Jonathan's steady breaths warmed the back of my neck. Most nights, I couldn't sleep unless I curled up against him, but tonight, for the first time in years, I lay awake until dawn.
"Sleep a bit longer. I'll make breakfast." When he got up, he kissed the side of my forehead.
He was unusually attentive that morning, almost overly so.
From the day we married, I naturally took on all the housework. At the time, I thought there could be nothing happier in this world than spending my life taking care of Jonathan.
Even though I graduated from a top university with the best grades in my class, when major firms reached out to recruit me, I deliberately chose to join Jonathan's company instead.
With my skills, I excelled quickly. Within just six months, I was promoted to a manager's position, one that put me in direct contact with the company's executives.
To stay close to him, I pushed myself beyond my limits.
But just as my career prospects were bright, Jonathan was hit with a series of attacks from the board of directors.
There was a mole inside the company.
The damage threatened Jonathan's position as CEO.
The board gave him an ultimatum. If he didn't uncover the traitor within a week, he would be forced to step down.
On the very last night of that deadline, I found him standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of the top-floor office, the lights off. His silhouette against the city night was the most defeated version of him I had ever seen.
I tried to sound lighthearted as I walked up and patted his shoulder. He lowered his head, forcing a smile, but his eyes were weary.
"Turn me in," I said, looking out at the endless stream of headlights and taillights beyond the glass.
"What?" His confusion was almost childlike.
Had this shaken him so badly that his sharp mind faltered?
I said, "I'm willing to be the mole you present to the board, to give you time to catch the real one. What they're after is hitting two targets at once. They want to use the excuse of a mole to shake your position.
"Your urgent task is to have someone take the fall first. I have access to the core work. They won't suspect me."
He fell silent for a long time, clearly torn.
"What should I give you in return?" His lips curved faintly, the mood finally easing.
"Marry me, maybe," I said with a playful grin.
He shot me a sidelong glance, half-serious, half-amused. "Deal."
I never imagined Jonathan would follow through.
The day the real mole was caught, he actually took me to the city hall to get our marriage license. No wedding, just paperwork. That night, I curled up hesitantly beside him, inching into his arms.
He chuckled softly through his nose, wrapped me close, and rested his chin on my head. I heard him murmur, "Hey, Darling."
Something soft, warm, and damp inside me melted.
"I guess this means I'll never have a career again," I whispered, deliberately light, laced with a mock pout.
I traced idle circles on his chest with my fingertips. I knew my reality. With the label of traitor hanging over me, no company would ever take me again.
"I'll take care of you." He caught my hand, kissed my knuckles, and carried me to the sofa with the same casual certainty as the day he'd said "Fine."
My heartbeat thundered in my chest.
I didn't sleep a wink that night, but it felt as though happiness had wrapped itself around me, cushioning me like a dream.
When he married me, it had only been six months since his breakup with Sophie.
And Sophie? She had cheated, married a man her family had introduced, and left the country.
They were separated by half the globe. I truly believed she was gone for good.