Chapter Twenty

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Thrill swirls up me on one side, while on the other side, dissatisfaction curdles.

"To this marriage or to me?" I ask.

"What's the difference?" He asks me, almost flippantly.

My temper sparked. "There's a lot of bloody difference."

My husband looks at me for sometime, before shaking his head at me.

"Only a human would be dissatisfied with that answer." He says finally.

The sparks blow into a fire.

"Alright then, since we're so much lesser than you. Dumb it down for me. You're committed to me. Yes or no?" I ask him, my gaze burning into him.

My husband seems to allow all the fire I show him warm him before letting it burn into his own gaze as he stares back at me.

"What about you?" He asks me, "Are you committed to me?"

"Of course I am!" I snap.

He seems taken aback for a second, blinking those beautiful blues. Then a sweet smile spread his lips. He hesitates for a part of a second, before lifting one hand and rubbing the back of his fingers against the side of my throat.

My eyes widen as warmth seeps into me. His fingers disappear the same second I feel them. A whisper of a touch.

"A true gift." He murmurs. Just then, his phone rings.

I stare disbelievingly at it when he pulls it out.

"You have it rigged don't you?" I ask him, "To get you out of sticky situations."

He answers it with a smirk in my direction. I narrow my eyes and lunge for the phone. He leans away easily.

When I try again, he steps out of my way, his brows furrowed in reaction to whatever the person on the phone was saying.

I whip around and stalk to him. "Give that to me." I growl as I jump to try to catch the edge of the device in my hands. Shadows grab onto me and pull my hands away. They start to gently drag me away.

My husband watches me with swirling eyes, rubbing his thumb over his lower lip as he responds in a low voice to the caller on the phone.

"Fight fair!" I challenge him, fighting the gentle hold the shadows have over me.

My husband raises a brow at me, but doesn't take the bait.

"Don't make me fight dirty, Kri." I say, daring him as the shadows continue to pull me further back.
Kri's eyes narrow mildly, as if curious.

"I will make sex sounds, I swear!" I all but shout in his direction as the revolving door spins open behind me and I'm lead backwards toward it.
My husband stills. Then his eyes close.

Letting out a breath, his lips twitching, he says, "We'll see you tomorrow, father." He says into the receiver.

"Uh oh." Houston says appropriately.

I stop struggling.

The shadows release me as my husband cuts the call. He stares at me with lips pressed together.

"Did I just...say sex sounds in your father's hearing range?" I whisper.

My husband's lips twitch further, "It would seem so."

I slap my hands over my face.

"That didn't just happen." I say to myself, "That did not just happen."

I drop my hands, "Please tell me you can turn back time?" I say, "Amongst the other things in your bag of tricks."

Kri walks over to me, "I resent you think I'm an entertainer." He says, "But I've been endlessly amused today to be too put off by that."

I slap my hands over my face once more. "We can't go tomorrow." I decide.

I drop my hands, "Let's just hide out here. If your father ever comes by, I will stay in my room and never come out. Oh my God, is he the sharing type? Will he tell your mother—"

Something changes in my husband's expression when I say that last bit. My expression sobers and I step closer.

"What?" I say, looking into his eyes, "What did I say?"

My husband's eyes soften. "My mother passed giving birth to me, Alanna." He says.

My heart drops and my face pales.
I hadn't even known my husband's mother had passed. I press my eyes closed. I was the single most suckiest wife in the world. I open my eyes and stare up at Kri.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't know—"

My husband smiles graciously and shakes his head at me, "I never told you."

And I never tried to find out.

I huff out a breath. "How about because I'm the worst wife in the world, I offer you the largest blank cheque ever?"

"You're not the worst wife in the world." My husband informs me.

I flash him a bright smile in response, "Blank cheque," I say, yes or no.

"Literally?" He asks me, "Or metaphorically."

"Metaphorically, of course. You're like a million times richer than me."

My husband snorts, "Do you have any idea what your net worth is?" He asks me.

I realize with the start that I owned half of everything he did. I hold my hands up.

"I don't ever want to find out." I tell him.

He grins, then shrugs. "Now, let's talk blank cheque." He says as he gestures toward the swivelling door.

We walk through it together and I begin to explain, gesturing manically with my hands.

"It's like an open favour, question...anything. You can literally ask for anything and I would give it to you."

My husband's eyes are amused as we step down and walk towards the couch in the living space. We sit down and I fold my legs under me and turn to face him.

"What would I possibly need it for?" He asks, rubbing his jaw as he contemplates.

"A business man never says no to possibilities." I say, tartly.

Grinning, Kri says, "I'm not a business man with my wife." He tells me.

I scowl at him, "You smooth talker." I mutter.

Then, throwing him an arch look, I ask, "Do you want it or not?"

He smiles, "I may not be a business man with you, but I am your husband. I'll take it." He says.

I grin, then settle back. Then, my smile softens.

"I really am sorry I never knew." I say, looking down at my hands as I wring them on my lap, "I didn't want to do a search to find out about you. I wanted to know you through you...but this is too—"

My husband calling my name cuts me off. I glance up at him.

He shakes his head at me, his eyes soft, so soft.

I relax. Then, I lean forward. "So...what's on the tablet?" I ask him.

He throws his head back and laughs.

I scowl at him when he says, "A secret door to bachelor life."

But I'm smiling secretly when he chuckles at my reaction.

He turns the large screen on and I turn to face it, learning my head back against the back of the couch. I'm sitting as close to him as I dare. Not touching, but I can feel the warmth of his body swarming my sides.

"What would you like to watch?" He asks me.

"Hmmm." I tap my lip with a finger as I contemplate. "What's your preferred genre?"

He shrugs, "Psychological thrillers."

I grin, "I have just the thing for you."
Gently taking the remote from his hand—that he releases easily—I play a movie that has been on my watchlist for aeons now. I never knew what I was waiting for...

I guess I was waiting for him.

Twenty five minutes into the movie, I'm peeking at the screen through the gaps between my folded knees. I jerk when a sound comes from the speakers that are quite literally everywhere and the protagonist whips around when she sees a version of herself standing behind her.

"Jesus." I mutter.

My husband has leaned forward, attention rapt on the screen. I didn't think psychological thriller meant piss-your-pants-at-any-moment. I curl my fingers into the loose material at my calves, bringing my knees a little closer so I could see only a sliver of the screen.

"Now would be the time to turn away!" Houston interrupts, "Run, girl, ru—Oh, she's definitely going to die."

I all but burst out of my skin at her interruption. I pat my chest as my husband watches the movie as if our smart home assistant hadn't just yelled at the screen. When another sharp sounds spills through the speaker, I let out a squeak and bury my head behind my knees.

Unicorns. Smell of paper. Romance. Pizza.

All good thoughts. Have good thoughts.

I peek one eye open. The phone rings on the screen.

The protagonist picks it up, sweat trickling down her temple, her hand trembling. The voice that answers her when she says hello is her own.

Lightening strikes and she drops the phone. I jump in my seat and bend my head, rocking a little. Oh, Heavens.

I peek at my husband.

"Are you not scared?" I whisper at him.

Another sound and I turn to stare at the screen. The music that plays is the piece the protagonist was in the process of creating. She begins to walk towards the room that has the piano, as the lightening lights and darkens the room repeatedly.

The piece keeps playing...moving past the point that the protagonist had stopped at, snuggling to end it. Just as she steps into the room, the music stops. The piano comes into view and no one sits at it. She walks slowly towards it.

The seat has a dip as if someone had sat there...but otherwise the room is empty.

The protagonist turns.

The piece begins where it had stopped. The protagonist looks up straight into the camera, her eyes wide.

"Oh shit." I whisper.

"Kri..." I whisper as the protagonist swallows visibly, beginning to turn.

"Yeah?" My husband says.

"Can you please tell me something that's not—" I let out a scream when the sound of glass shattering streaks through the house. I almost look at the windows to see if it was our house.

"Did you have to get the best speakers there are out there?" I growl at my husband as the protagonist runs toward the sound.

"Why isn't she leaving the house? This girl needs a smart home telling her what to do. Her in-built intelligence is faulty." Houston says.

"You like to listen to music and dance," my husband says, distracted as he keeps his eyes on the screen even while answering me.

I'm so shocked, I turn to look at him, the sounds from the screen barely filtering through. I grab the remote and pause the movie. My husband turns to look at me the same moment that Houston says, "Oh, thank God."

"How do you know all this?" I ask him.

My husband's brows furrow, "Why wouldn't I?" My husband asks, taking the remote I had set aside and pressing play.

I take the remote back and pause.

"How?" I ask.

My husband looks at me. "I found out about you, Alanna."

What?

"How?" I ask.

He lifts one shoulder, "There's a lot you can learn of a person by watching them and learning of the choices they make."

"You've done...you've done research on me?"

My husband throws me a funny look, "Well, I wasn't going to marry you without knowing a single thing about you."

He presses play.

I'm staring at him.

I was truly the only one in this marriage who had walked in blind. I was the one who had married a stranger, who knew nothing about my husband and was wary and careful about finding out about him.

I knew I had flaws, I couldn't exist if I didn't. But...I hadn't expected to be flawed so much in this area of my life. In the area that I have been most expectant of, the area that has shaped my whole life and how I see the world.

Why was I so hesitant to take risks with him? To be vulnerable? Why was I flying off the handle?

I wasn't this way. I was mostly level headed, thoughtful. But around him, I drop aside all of that and...
I shake my head.

I turn into this scared and corner version of myself. Even though he has done everything he can to make me feel anything but.

I promise myself, I would try then.

Try to be more brave. To be less afraid of the consequences. Because even though I was asking him to show his cards, perhaps some part of me was holding back my heart.

Like you're holding back the largest secret you have?

I suck in a breath in realization. I was behaving this way because the root of the cause that made everything go wrong was that I wasn't telling him what I truly truly felt. Our lives. Our past. Our...connection.

What he probably felt but didn't know the name of.

The very deepest most important thing in my life, the very base upon which I had built my identity and what I believed our relationship was... I was hiding that from him. Of course, everything else was going awry because I was keeping all my attention on not blurting this out and searching for some sign in him before confessing.

I was being scared.

An old dream wiggles free. I hadn't understood it then, hadn't even thought to look deeper... but under different light and behind today's understanding...I saw something different. An answer, almost.

"Please don't make me do this." I whisper to him, peeking through the curtains.

His parents.

I feel his lips on my temple and his palm against my lower back. He rubs soft circles along my back.

"If we do not do this," He says. "We are afraid."

His free hand slides along my jaw, turning my head to look up at him.

"And where there is fear, there is no true love."

I frown, "What if what I fear is losing that very love?" I whisper, my gaze sliding to the curtains once more as if afraid to draw their attention. Something akin to nervous fear twists in my stomach.

"You can't lose something that's yours." He says.

I look up at him again, my throat knotting with emotion.

"And if I do?" I whisper.

He just smiles, not a speck of doubt or fear in him.

"I'll just find my way back to you." he says.

Then he turns me around to face the curtains once more, wrapping one arm around my front, his chin against my temple. Strength I didn't possess alone, mounts and crests at his presence at my back and by my side.

I return to my present. My husband stares into my eyes. I part my lips at that very moment, to reveal all my heart to him. But before a word can pass my lips, Houston speaks.

"Sir, Mr. Bal is requesting entrance."

My husband turns away from me slowly, coming to his feet. He walks to the door and lets his old friend, chiding him for not using the card given to him. Bal has the king of all stoic faces in reaction.

He begins to discuss something with his Kri and the two begin to walk toward the swivelling door and I presume heading towards the office. Just before the door closes, my husband's eyes meet mine, letting me know he hadn't forgotten me.

Later. They seems to promise.

The door closes behind them.

I sigh and shut the screen off.

"Timely save by Mr. Bal, don't you think Mrs. Kri?" Houston asks.

My brows furrow mildly at that. At the look in Bal's face and the frown that appeared on my husband's, perhaps it wasn't good news? I bite my lip, contemplative.

"I'm not sure I could have continued watching that wretched movie any longer." Houston continues.

What were the chances I was interrupted just before revealing something so monumental to him? Was it just a coincidence? Just bad timing? Or was there something that was asking me not to tell him yet? I had tried and Bal had entered with what looked like it could be work trouble.

I shake my head, pushing my thoughts aside. Silly, I told myself firmly, silly and superstitious.

I dismissed the thought and sigh, standing and heading towards my room. I stay awake for as long as I can, hoping to catch my husband, having Houston warn me if they leave the office. But I fall asleep late into the night waiting.

——

-

I wake the next day with a loud thumping heart.

Because, I was going to meet Kri's family today. Just as I'm brushing my mouth, staring into my own wide eyed gaze, I realize something. I straighten, mid brush, staring at my reflection.

What were the odds that the day I dreamt of the vision of a memory where I'm being tickled mercilessly by him and wake crying because there was no semblance of that warmth in my life...that I feel that warmth in my life. That very day. By that very man.

Through the same means: a tickle session.

Which reminded me.

I narrow my eyes. I lean forward, spitting and rinsing. I replace my brush in the holder and turn around, dropping my hands on my hips and donning a stern look.

"Uh oh." Comes the very wise response from my very smart home assistant.

"Uh oh's right, missy." I say, "What's this I've been hearing about you tattling about me to my husband hmm?"

"Please blame my creator," she says immediately, "It is written into my programming. I have no control over it."

I narrow my eyes before my shoulders slump in defeat. "Fine." I mutter, "I'll just take it up with your creator."

"Yes, Mrs. Kri. You should do that, Mrs. Kri."

I stick my tongue out at the general direction at her voice before returning to my room. I walk out of my room heading to the kitchen, where Hrei is happily preparing something that I can smell all the way to the swivelling door I push through.
My eyes flick around. Now where was that husband of mine...

I walk to the Yade woman and wish her a good morning. Her bright smile is almost dazzling and a little disturbing this damn early in the morning. She hums as she works, telling me little stories about her mother and her from when she was small.

How her mother used to braid her hair and tell her stories of how the things used to be with the Yade before the curse...before their world, Dua (pronounced Dhoo-waa) was destroyed. I settle into the seat at the counter, listening to her recall her mother's words, at the same time, keeping my awareness spread out for my husband.

"It was a beautiful place," she says, her words wistful, "Perhaps the Eden of Yade. And we brought it to its knees, stole it of that beauty and killed it for all its worth. We stripped it of its identity and made it but a whisper of itself. We deserve every bit of the judgement meted out to us."
She joins me at the table, her lashes swept low, "You don't know how much this initiative means to us." She whispers, "Perhaps it isn't prudent for me to speak of your marriage in such a way, as if it were done to benefit our kind..."

She looks up at me, "But we hope your marriage to Kri is the beginning of the salvation of our children." She says.

Her eyes shift at the moment towards the door. I turn too reflexively and meet my husband's eyes. I feel my own gaze warm, my expression soften. Kri walks into the kitchen, murmuring a good morning to us which we return in our own soft voices.

He settles on the seat beside me and I smile at him, getting up to fix him some coffee. I see the swirl of his eyes and was beginning to recognise the different reasons it comes. Pleasure, happiness or a smart dose of pissed off. Right now I would wager my next book that it was pleasure.

I return with my husband's mug and notice that he doesn't start with his until I sit beside him and sip on mine.

Then, he takes a sip, a barely there smile on his face.

Hrei watches all this with a small smile on her face. She grins wider when I look at her.

"Would you like to join your wife for breakfast, Mr. Kri?"

Kri looks at Hrei blandly, "When will you stop calling me that?"

"When

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