A husband by name only

Justin,

"Boss. This is the last meeting. Are you—!"

"Clear up the schedule. We are going to visit… her father!"

The words left my mouth sharply, clipped, as if saying them slower might force me to think more than I wanted to.

What was her name again?

The realization crept in quietly, like an itch under the skin.

"Whose?" Finn looked at me with confusion, his brows pulling together slightly.

My jaw clenched as I stood up, the chair scraping faintly against the floor. I forgot her name. Well, I never knew her name from the beginning. My tongue pressed against the roof of my mouth before I forced the words out. "My wife's…"

Finn's expression shifted into something I couldn't name. His lips parted as if he wanted to speak, then pressed together again. He placed the device on the table with deliberate care. "Boss, I have already informed you that Miss Wren's father died on the day we had to attend the international business meeting with BLWD Corporations."

My fingers froze mid-air, hovering inches above my phone. The sudden stillness in my body felt unnatural. I slowly looked up, a dull thud echoing against my eardrums, as if someone had struck metal inside my head. My chest tightened. "He died?"

"Yes. Around midnight."

Midnight?

My throat went dry. Wasn't that when I returned home after managing the trouble one of my clients caused at the last minute? I remembered loosening my tie, the weight of exhaustion dragging my shoulders down. Later, when I woke up, I didn't find her in the bedroom. I had frowned at the empty space beside me, irritation blooming instantly. I thought she was sulking.

Damn.

My lips pressed into a thin line. I even shouted at her since I had barely slept in the last two weeks. The memory replayed with cruel clarity—my voice sharp, impatient, dismissive.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, my voice rising despite myself. I could feel heat crawling up my neck.

Finn’s shoulders stiffened. He looked disappointed, his gaze dropping for a fraction of a second. "I did inform you… but you were engaged with the CEO of FOL Corporate."

"What?" My eyes narrowed, my vision sharpening too much. I was already on the plane when I had that conversation. That meant when I scolded her for disturbing my sleep, her world was already collapsing.

My fingers curled into my palm.

"Damn."

"Mrs. Windsor also tried to reach you…" Finn hesitated, then continued quietly, "but you were in the conference."

I couldn't hear his words anymore. The room felt distant, sounds muffled, as if I were underwater.

Although it was an arranged marriage, to me, it was a forced marriage from the beginning. My mother's emotional blackmail and guilt had pushed me into it, leaving no room to breathe.

But I made it clear to my mother that I wasn't going to be the typical husband who would play house. To protect the company my father left behind, I was fine being single forever. That resolve had always felt solid—unshakable.

But when she came, she was exactly what I needed. Quiet. Unassuming. She stayed to herself, occasionally having conversations during dinner. No demands. No complaints. Nothing overbearing. Until she started talking about her father.

Every time she did, her voice softened, her eyes warmed in a way I pretended not to notice.

I wanted to go. I really did. But time never worked in my favor. It was the season of rush, and some lunatics had been constantly trying to mess with me. Every day blurred into the next.

"Boss." Finn’s voice cut through my thoughts. He looked at me with concern, his jaw tight.

"Let's head home." The words felt heavier than they should have.

"What about the last meeting?"

"Reschedule it." My hand waved dismissively, though my chest felt anything but calm.

I didn't know where the marriage was standing right now, but I needed to apologize. The thought sat uncomfortably in my gut.

On the way home, I couldn't stay comfortable. I shifted in my seat more than once, my fingers tapping restlessly against my thigh. I had always wanted a quiet, unbothered life. Now, someone holding grudges and hatred toward me didn’t make me feel any better. Guilt gnawed relentlessly at my insides. Despite everything, she was my wife, and I should have at least shown the bare minimum respect for her father's situation.

After arriving home, the silence hit me immediately. The house felt hollow.

"Young Master!" Butler Carlos walked out of the kitchen when he saw me. Surprise plastered all over his face, his steps slowing. "You are early."

"Where is she?" My voice came out lower than usual.

"Who? Young Madam?" He asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Yes."

"She said she went back home." He hesitated. "She won't return."

My jaw clenched hard enough to ache. A pulse throbbed at my temple. She left? She could have waited until I returned.

Running my fingers through my hair, I exhaled sharply, frustration and unease tangling together.

"Maybe you can call her," Carlos suggested gently. "She looked pretty upset. Her father was her anchor and now—!"

I looked at my phone.

The screen stared back at me, blank and accusing. Come to think of it, I didn’t have her number.

"Give me her number."

"What?" He looked up, genuinely confused. "You don't have her number?"

"Are you judging me for not having her number?" My eyes flicked to him sharply.

"No, Young Master." He straightened immediately. "But I think instead of trying to call her, how about having a face-to-face conversation? This time, you don't have any excuses. You have indeed prioritized your work again. There is no coming back from this anymore. Madam Windsor is also very disappointed with you."

Mom?

"Let's go to her house. Let's just deal with the situation!" The words came out faster, edged with urgency.

"Are you sure? You don't look great right now." He studied my face. "Maybe a bit of sleep will help."

"No." I grabbed the keys, my grip tight, and headed out.

The life I chose, the world I built around me, wasn’t meant for more than one person. I let her enter my world because it was convenient for me. That truth sat bitterly on my tongue.

But I forgot that with that choice came responsibilities toward her—responsibilities I had ignored.

On the way to the Carlton residence, drowsiness started kicking in hard. My eyes burned, my head felt heavy. It's been ages since I had proper sleep. By the time I arrived at the driveway, my foot hesitated on the brake. I felt like I could sleep right then and there.

"Justin?"

My mother's voice startled me awake just as my head dipped forward. "What are you doing here? And did you just fall asleep?"

I blinked rapidly and straightened. What was she doing here? I scanned the area instinctively. She didn’t even have bodyguards with her.

"What? No. I—!" I got out of the car, shutting the door harder than necessary. "I heard about Mr. Carlton. Sorry… I had no idea."

A flicker of disappointment crossed her face before she smoothed it away. "It doesn't matter. I hope you will just let her go. She deserves someone better."

"Mom—!"

She raised her hand, stopping me mid-step. "You have already disappointed me a hundred times. I thought if you had someone to love, you would pull yourself together. Seems like I made a grave mistake by ruining her life. You don't deserve her."

"Mom, please." My voice dropped. "I have already told you that I don't have time and—!"

"I don't need your explanation anymore, Justin." Her voice hardened. "This is proof that for money, you can leave us dying somewhere and you won’t even know. Not even after a week!"

"Mom… this is not the case!" My hands clenched helplessly at my sides.

"What if I died that day?" Her eyes glistened. "What if I was already six feet under and here you are, trying to say what? That you didn’t know?"

I couldn't reply. My throat closed up. The thought of losing another family sent a cold shiver down my spine.

"I was the daughter of a salesman, Justin," she continued quietly. "Before your father found me. Three thousand dollars was his salary. But he never failed to give us love. Yes, we didn't have everything—expensive wagyu beef, rare feasts, social status—but I had a family that loved me. Now, I live in a house with nothing but cold antiques, an empty dining table, and servants who look like they want to go home as soon as they step into that cold graveyard."

She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and looked at me. "Loneliness isn't a joke, Justin. But having a family who doesn't stand beside you when you are in pain is far worse than betrayal. So from now on, you are all alone. Divorce that girl and think that I died a week ago."

She turned away before I could react.

I stood there, frozen, staring at the car as it left the driveway. My chest felt hollow. "Damn."

"Justin?"

The main entrance opened, and Mrs. Carlton stepped out. Her shoulders were slightly hunched, her face pale. "What are you doing here? It's cold outside. Come in."

"Hello, Mrs. Carlton." My voice came out quieter than I intended.

"Come inside. Aurelia is resting after handling some matters at the company." She studied me carefully. "I am glad that you finally got time."

Aurelia…

Ah.

That was her name.

A sharp, unpleasant realization settled in my stomach. How worthless I was. I didn’t even know my wife's name.

I was just a husband by name.

The house was quiet when I walked in, every sound muted. Mrs. Carlton ordered the servants to prepare something to eat.

"She is upstairs," she said softly. "The first room is hers."

"Thank you." I hesitated, then looked at her, guilt washing over me in a slow, suffocating wave. "And… I am sorry that I didn't get to say goodbye to Mr. Carlton."

"It's alright." Her smile was tired but kind. "He won't mind. He knows how hard you work. Make up with her. She has been through a lot."