Arthur and I had been married for three years. Everyone said we were the perfect, loving couple. But only I knew that he had been sleeping in the guest room for three years. He had never touched me. I placed the divorce papers on his desk, intending to set him free. But I unexpectedly saw a diary lying open on the desk. [Today, she forgot to take her clothes after showering. I resisted for a long time, but couldn't control myself and hid one piece. I hope she won't notice.] I froze. So he was the one taking all the lingerie I'd "lost" before. 1 In the middle of the diary on the desk lay a black and gold fountain pen. It wasn't the one I had given Arthur. But the lingerie mentioned as taken in the diary... Was the exact set I had just bought last week. Thinking back carefully, over these three years, the nightgowns and lingerie I'd lost probably added up to over twenty pieces. I had thought the wind blew them away. Or that I forgot to pack them after a trip. The only person I hadn't suspected was Arthur. Simply because of his aloof personality. Since getting married, we had always treated each other with polite respect. When he spoke to me, his eyes never wandered anywhere else. How could he do something like this? But last night, Arthur said there was no hot water in the guest bathroom sink. And borrowed my bathroom to take a shower. It took him barely half an hour, start to finish, and he even thanked me when he left. I hadn't suspected a thing. I never imagined it was him. But my intimate clothing... it wasn't like he could wear it. What could he possibly do with it? Inappropriate images suddenly popped into my head. My face burned, and I didn't dare think about it any further. I really wanted to step closer and read the earlier entries in the diary. I even wanted to storm into the guest room and rummage through his closet. But that would be too unethical. I calmed myself down. And decided to pretend I hadn't seen anything. I turned around and closed the study door. As for the divorce papers, I stuffed them into a drawer in my vanity. Real or fake, I'll find out once I test it. 2 Arthur came home early tonight. Seeing the living room lights off when he came in, he called out my name. "Chloe Vance." I braced myself and walked out of the bedroom. "You're home. I didn't make dinner tonight." Arthur still had that same unsmiling expression. Whenever he called me, he always used my full name. But I had read the diary... Just thinking about him, with that aloof face, secretly using my nightgowns to... I couldn't even look him in the eye. Completely oblivious to my unusual behavior, he handed me a blue gift bag. "That's fine. We can go out to eat. "This is a gift for you." I reached out to take it. The back of my hand accidentally brushed against his fingertips. I pulled back quickly. Arthur's eyes darkened for a moment, but quickly returned to normal. Today was our third wedding anniversary. The gift I had prepared for him was a divorce agreement. Yet he had bought me a pearl necklace. I suppressed my complicated emotions and said softly: "I'm sorry, I forgot to get you a gift." Thankfully, he didn't seem to mind. "It's okay. I don't need anything. "This necklace suits you, so I picked it up." I quietly said thank you. Arthur said flatly: "You're welcome. Get ready, I'll go make a reservation." I changed into a strapless velvet dress, paired with a fur shawl. And put on the pearl necklace he gave me. It was an elegant outfit, not overly flashy. When I opened the door, Arthur looked up and was visibly stunned for a second. Our eyes met, and my heart suddenly beat faster. Before I could speak, he had already looked away. "Let's go." Watching his indifferent back, I muttered to myself: Let's see how long you can keep this act up. ... The temperature in the restaurant was a bit high. Just as I was about to take off my shawl, He suddenly looked up and stared at me. Arthur had sharp features and deep-set eyes. Wearing glasses usually softened his aggressive aura, giving him a more refined look. But right now, I saw danger in his eyes. "Wh-what's wrong?" "Nothing. I'm going out for a smoke." As soon as he left, that suffocating feeling instantly dissipated. For a second there, I thought he was going to eat me alive. 3 During dinner, Arthur mentioned he had a few days off. And asked if I wanted to go home. Actually, my plan was to confront Arthur, sign the divorce papers, and then go back. After my family went bankrupt, my dad's mental health took a hit. He rented a house back in our hometown, spending his days gardening and growing vegetables. He gradually recovered. My dad always thought Arthur and I had a great relationship. I hadn't told him about the divorce yet. If I went back with Arthur, the divorce papers would have to wait. Arthur was waiting for my answer. I had no choice but to brace myself and force a laugh. "Sure. If you're not busy, let's go back together." When we were leaving, Arthur stood at the door, not moving. I looked at him. "Did you forget something?" His gaze fell on my shoulders, obscure and unreadable. "Put your shawl on properly." Perhaps realizing his tone was too harsh, He softened his voice and added: "It's cold outside." "..." After taking a shower, I looked at my discarded clothes in the laundry basket. I remembered the bra I had recently lost. It was a low-cut style, trimmed with white lace. I really liked it. I wonder where Arthur hid it. I deliberately left the nightgown I had just taken off on the counter. Arthur would be borrowing the bathroom again tonight. If the nightgown disappeared, then I'd have concrete proof. Sure enough, a little while later, Arthur knocked on the door. Still wearing that cold, aloof face. "Sorry, I need to borrow it one more time tonight." I smiled at him and said generously: "No problem, go ahead." Listening to the sound of the water running in the bathroom, every second felt like a year. I kept staring at the same page of my book without reading a single word. Finally, Arthur came out. He looked completely normal and said softly: "Get some rest soon. Goodnight." "Mhm. Goodnight." As soon as he left, I immediately rushed into the bathroom. Sure enough. My nightgown. Was gone. I was both embarrassed and furious. I marched angrily to the door of the guest room. Just as I was about to knock, I suddenly heard a few suppressed, muffled groans coming through the crack in the door. Th-this-this... Is he... right now...? My face burned searing hot. Afraid of walking in on something incredibly awkward, I had no choice but to turn back to my room. My imagination ran wild all day, resulting in bizarre dreams that night. In my dream, Arthur was wearing my lingerie. Asking me if he looked good. I called him a pervert. He chuckled, pressed me down, and whispered in my ear: "Chloe, then you wear it. "Wear it just for me, okay?" 4 When I woke up the next day, I had huge, dark circles under my eyes. Arthur was already on the phone with my dad. Hearing that we were coming to stay for a few days, My dad happily announced he was going to slaughter a chicken to make soup. The two of them chatted casually on the phone, the familiar atmosphere making it seem like we were truly a real family. I packed my luggage with mixed feelings. Actually, Arthur treated me quite well. He supported my continuing to paint. He didn't make unreasonable demands just because he saved my family from ruin. On the contrary, he respected me deeply. Everyone outside thought we had a profound connection, a couple to be envied. I had even developed feelings for him. But he attributed all his kindness to repaying a debt of gratitude. I had to wonder, maybe he just saw me as a younger sister he was taking care of. Aside from a marriage certificate, we had absolutely no real connection. But now, the thought of my nightgown potentially hidden in his suitcase made my skin crawl. His serious, upright demeanor was entirely an act! I closed my suitcase, suppressing my complicated emotions. I resolved that once we got back from my dad's, I would put an end to this absurd marriage. The drive back took almost six hours. Arthur was a bit of a germaphobe. So I didn't open a single snack from the huge bag he had bought me. I lay in the backseat, playing games on my phone. Arthur watched me through the rearview mirror. "Is there nothing you like?" Wrong. He bought all my favorites. But this was his car, and I had to respect his germaphobia. So I lied: "Oh, I'm not hungry." Halfway there, Arthur pulled into a rest stop. When I came out of the restroom, he was standing under a camphor tree, talking on the phone. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, shining down on him. Without his suit jacket, wearing just a dress shirt, Arthur looked a bit more youthful. He flicked the ash from his cigarette, brought it to his lips, and took a deep drag. He tilted his head back, exhaling the smoke. His usually rigid posture relaxed in that moment. When he glanced sideways and saw me, a faint smile played on his lips. "Alright, I'm hanging up. Call me if anything comes up." This gentle, modest appearance... Definitely an act too! As soon as I got in the car, I covered myself with my coat and pretended to sleep. Terrified he would try to talk to me. Arthur drove very steadily. While pretending to sleep, I actually fell asleep. When I woke up, my dad had already opened the car door and was welcoming me out. "Chloe, you slept the whole way! You didn't even take a turn driving so Arthur could rest?" Before I could even speak, Arthur looked at me, smiled, and said: "It's fine. She's not familiar with my car. It's better to let her sleep." "Sleeping so much during the day, will you even be able to sleep tonight?" Arthur said softly: "If she can't sleep, then she won't. It's a rare vacation." A seemingly casual remark. Yet it sent a chill down my spine. I quickly got out of the car and bolted toward the courtyard. As soon as I walked in, the rich aroma of chicken soup hit me. "Dad, I'm starving. Let's eat." "Okay, okay, okay. You two can taste your old man's cooking. Arthur, take her to wash her hands. Keep an eye on her so she doesn't try to sneak a bite!" Arthur, carrying my suitcase, followed my dad and smiled in agreement: "Sure, I'll keep an eye on her." Hearing Arthur's voice, I tensed up. As soon as he walked in, I quickly hurried out. Awkward. It was just too awkward. 5 It wasn't until after dinner that I realized an even more awkward problem. My dad said he had only prepared one guest room. "One room?" I gasped out loud. My dad looked at me, confused: "It's just the two of you, isn't one room enough?" Arthur interjected: "It's enough. Thanks, Dad." As he spoke, his dark eyes never left me. It gave me the creeps. I lay in bed, tossing and turning. I decided to text Arthur. [How about you and my dad go out and play cards tonight?] Arthur: [I'm tired from driving.] Okay, driving for over six hours is definitely exhausting. [Then I'll sleep outside on the couch and watch TV all night.] Arthur: [There's no heating in the living room.] What am I supposed to do then? I can't actually share a bed with Arthur, can I? I can't guarantee I'll be able to control myself. I carefully drafted a reply: [But sleeping together... isn't that a bit inconvenient?] This time, Arthur didn't reply immediately. I could hear him and my dad chatting outside. I paced around the bedroom anxiously. He wasn't replying. Did that mean there was no room for negotiation? A short while later, Arthur returned. I hid under the covers and pretended to sleep. I listened to him taking a shower in the bathroom. The atmosphere grew increasingly tense. Unfortunately, I had slept for over three hours during the day, and I wasn't sleepy at all now. The countryside night was incredibly silent. I could hear his every movement clearly. The water in the bathroom stopped. Arthur was drying his hair. He opened the door and approached. The mattress dipped on one side. A familiar scent drifted over. He used my body wash! I swallowed hard. And tried to steady my breathing. Arthur was tall with long legs. As soon as he got under the covers, his foot accidentally brushed against my calf. "Sorry." "It's fine." "You're not asleep?" "..." "Isn't it stuffy under the covers?" "..." The air almost solidified. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, pretending I wasn't the one who had just spoken. But Arthur leaned closer. The rich floral scent was warmed by his body heat. Why had I never noticed before how this scent could make a person's imagination run wild? I held my breath, continuing my act. "Chloe, did you read the diary I left on the desk?" My eyes snapped open instantly, and I threw off the covers to explain: "I didn't! I didn't read it!" Who knew I would look straight into his dark, deep eyes. He frowned slightly. "Tsk. You didn't read it? "My fault. I guess I didn't leave it in a noticeable enough spot." What did this disappointed tone mean? Was he laying all his cards on the table? Dropping the act? Voluntarily admitting he stole my clothes? I threw the covers back, preparing to interrogate him properly. But instead, he grabbed my wrist, his voice low: "It's been three years. Are you still this afraid of me?" As he spoke, he leaned over me. His voice was hoarse, murmuring in my ear: "But I don't want to hold back anymore. "Chloe, it hurts so much to hold back. Touch it if you don't believe me." 6 My fingertips brushed against hot, smooth skin. I yanked my hand back instantly. The tips of my ears burned. "Arthur, are you crazy?!" He had a few extra drinks while chatting with my dad at dinner. It was my dad's homemade liquor, and it was very strong. Now, a faint flush covered his pale skin. A layer of mist clouded his eyes as he looked at me pitifully. "You don't want to touch me..." He was definitely drunk. This disappointed tone gave me goosebumps. Tonight, Arthur had shed his usual cold exterior. After his shower, his dark, fluffy hair softened his sharp features. Without his glasses, his long eyelashes made him look fragile and vulnerable. I remembered the contents of his diary and tested the waters: "Arthur, did you drink too much?" "No." "Then... did you take my nightgown?" "Yes, I took it." "What did you do with it after you took it?" Arthur fell into a memory, his Adam's apple bobbing hard. He said hoarsely: "I did some bad things." I couldn't help but remember the suppressed groans I heard outside the guest room that day. A mix of pain and pleasure. It was obvious what he was doing. My face instantly turned bright red. Secretly writing in a diary, secretly taking my nightgowns to DIY... Was it really that hard for him to just say he liked me? I was determined to make him say it himself! Feigning anger, I glared at him: "What 'bad things' exactly?" Arthur's dark eyes stared at me. He shuffled forward on his knees, trapping me against the headboard. "Chloe, I can't say it. Can I show you instead?" 7 Show me. Show me. Show me. That's all he knows how to do. Blushing furiously, I shoved him away. Arthur was caught off guard. He fell backward onto the blanket. Propping himself up on his hands behind him. Under the warm yellow glow of the bedside lamp, he looked up, his expression stunned. His chest heaved rapidly. Through the loose collar of his pajamas, I could faintly see his collarbones and pectoral muscles beneath his Adam's apple. Clean, sharp lines. Combined with that face that usually looked completely devoid of worldly desires... It was just too unfair. "You-you go sleep with my dad!" He looked down, glancing at his pajama pants, and said bitterly: "Chloe, it's... not really convenient for me to go out like this." I followed his gaze. And instantly felt embarrassed and annoyed. "Arthur, how could you?!" He let out a soft sigh. "I've always been like this. I was afraid of scaring you, which is why we slept in separate rooms." "But you can't just..." hold it in for three years. "I'm sorry. If you don't like it, I'll control myself. "I was impulsive tonight because of the alcohol. If I touch you again... you really might get hurt. "Chloe, go to sleep. I'm going to the bathroom." I instantly understood what he was going to do. I hid under the covers, refusing to look at him. But he didn't move, just sat on the edge of the bed looking at me. I poked my head out: "What are you doing? Don't tell me you expect me to help you?" Arthur's body stiffened, and he swallowed hard. "Can you?" "Of course not!" "Then can I borrow your pajamas for a bit?" Act, act, act. Still acting! "Where's the white silk one from yesterday?" "I accidentally tore that one." Me: "..." It only lasted one night! Is he covered in spikes or something?! My face dark, I gritted my teeth: "Arthur! That piece was very expensive!" "I'll buy you new ones, lots and lots of them!" "Don't even think about it! I only brought two pieces with me!" "But without your pajamas, it's really hard for me..." "Stop talking, you pervert!" I couldn't bear to listen anymore. I hid under the covers, clutching my burning face. I had no idea that Arthur, standing by the bed, felt like he was shattering into pieces. It took him a long time to say: "I'm sorry."
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