11:48 Tue, Sep <b>9 </b>
Chapter 86 Greedy
Chapter 86 Greedy
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Shawn walked in with his bag and sat down on the couch. He looked straight at me and said, “Sorry. I had a friend do me a favor. I was worried something might happen to you.”
Iughed silently to myself. What he really feared was that I’d be with someone else.
Since he was already here, I couldn’t exactly throw him out. Luckily, there were two beds in the room. “I’m tired,” I said. “I’m going to bed.”
Shawn grabbed his clothes and headed to the bathroom. A little whileter, he came out wearing pajamas.
When he saw I had alreadyid down, he suddenly climbed into my bed, wrapped his arms around me from behind, andforted me, saying, “Tiffany, don’t be mad anymore, okay?”
He knew I was upset. And he knew exactly how to get around it.
His lips brushed softly behind my ear, trailing lightly across my cheek. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll take you shopping,” he said gently. “Buy you something nice.”
I pushed him away. “That’s not necessary. I’m really tired,” I said tly.
Shawn hesitated for a moment, his hand resting on me for maybe two seconds before he leaned in <i>to </i>kiss me again. “Tiffany,” he murmured, “just let me make it up to you tonight, please?”
This version of Shawn–clingy and desperate–I had never seen before. Not even during our newlywed days. Back then, he wasn’t the clingy one. I was.
His whole world was his job. Thepany had just fallen into hisp, and he was buried in work. He was gone more often than not, and what should’ve been a honeymoon was cut short. When he did finally show up, I would rush to his side, desperate for his attention.
Looking back, I don’t think he ever truly loved me. He wanted my youth,
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emotionalfort, and someone to make him feel better when the weight got too heavy.
I was a pet to him. If I made a fuss, he handed me money. If I’m sad, he buys me gifts. Sure, he’d sometimes say something sweet to coax me, but that was just because he knew how easy I was to soothe.
He was the type of husband who knows exactly how to hook you emotionally. After we got married, I was the fish–hooked and wriggling.
But now? I’m done being the fish. I want to be the one holding the rod. Even between husband and wife, things had turned into apetition.
So, the real question is: Who is the one who held the rod?
To me, the one who took the bait first was the fish.
I didn’t respond. But I was soft, sensitive, and too easily swayed. Shawn knew exactly where to touch, and every brush of his fingers awakened something in me.
The crystal chandelier above spilled a soft, golden glow over the room. Shawn’s gaze deepened, and for a moment, it felt like he was truly seeing me for the first time.
He reached out and gently tucked a few stray hairs behind my ear. Then he let his fingers drift across my cheek–smooth and fair–his lips curled into a slight smile. “Tiffany,” he murmured, “are you turning into a kid or something?”
I was caught off guard, turned my head away from his gaze, and stared out the window into the night.
When I didn’t answer, he probably felt a little disappointed. I thought he’d finally get the message and move to the other bed.
But I had underestimated him. Even my dull, uninterested expression didn’t stop
him.
He reached out and turned off the light. The shadows consumed the room.
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The silhouettes on the wall wereyered over each other. The sight made my cheeks flush. I reached out, trying to push him away again.
Then suddenly, he snapped. He grabbed his leather belt from the nightstand. Shawn stopped his advance, pulled my hands above my head, and tied them together. The leather dug into my skin, leaving a sting. His voice was rough, low in my ear. “Just hold on; it won’t be long.”
It felt like forever before he finally stopped, lying on top of me, panting hard and not moving an inch.
“You’re heavy.” I gasped. I could barely breathe.
He finally kissed my cheek, undid the belt, and freed my wrists. Then he gently ran his fingers across the marks left behind, kissing them too. “Tiffany, do you not love me anymore?”
Of all moments, he chose this one to ask that? My heart jumped wildly at his question.
When I finally spoke, my voice was hoarse. “What if I don’t?”
Shawn pulled the nket over both of us and gave a quiet littleugh. “If you don’t, then you don’t. Love isn’t something you can fake. And it’s not something you can hide, either.”
I froze. In the dim light, I turned to look at him.
His eyes were oddly bright in the darkness, watching me closely. After a moment, he said, “Honestly, whether we’re in love or not doesn’t matter that much in a marriage. I allow you to not love me. But I’m not ready for a divorce.”
He sounded as if he’d thought it through carefully. And just like that, he got up and went straight into the bathroom without waiting for a reply.
I pushed myself upright in bed, eyes locked on the bathroom light glowing under
the door.
<i>The </i><i>man </i><i>appeared </i><i>to </i><i>be </i><i>delusional</i>. <i>Did </i><i>he </i><i>think </i><i>he </i><i>could </i><i>have </i>a <i>wife </i><i>at </i><i>home </i><i>and </i><i>someone </i>
Chapter 86 Greedy
<i>else </i><i>on </i><i>the </i><i>side</i><i>, </i><i>too</i><i>? </i>
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He <i>wants </i><i>the </i><i>best </i><i>of </i><i>both </i><i>worlds</i>? <i>Does </i><i>he </i><i>think </i><i>he’s </i><i>such </i><i>a </i><i>lucky </i><i>man</i>? <i>He’d </i><i>better </i>be <i>careful</i>, or <i>he’ll </i><i>run </i><i>himself </i><i>into </i><i>the </i><i>ground </i><i>before </i><i>long</i>.
I was fuming. I wanted to yell, to throw every insult I knew. But the way I was raised–those polite manners drilled into me since I was a kid–stopped the words in my throat.
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