02: You're Just My Wife

→ Agatha ←

~ Three Months Ago ~

I woke to the sound of Oscar's voice. At first, I couldn't make out what he was saying. His voice came from somewhere near the windows, it was loud, the kind that made it clear he was already pissed off, and the curtains were still drawn against the morning light.

I remained still beneath the sheets for a moment, watching his silhouette move across the room as he paced with his phone pressed to his ear.

"...I don't care whose fault it was," he said. "The shipment was rejected because someone in Quality Control failed to do their damn job. This company doesn't need incompetent failures. It needs people who know what they're doing. If this happens again, I'll replace the entire department!"

I slowly pushed myself upright and watched him for another few seconds. Oscar had probably already been awake for some time.

His suit jacket was draped over the back of a chair, his white shirt was rolled neatly at the sleeves, and even from where I sat, I could see the tension in his shoulders.

He had barely slept, and lately, it seemed as though the problems at the company followed him everywhere, even into our bedroom.

I got out of bed and walked toward him quietly, touching his arm when I reached him.

"Oscar." I nuzzled against him.

"Give me one second." He didn't look at me.

His voice was colder than usual, indicating that he was in a really bad mood, so I immediately withdrew my hand. I waited while he listened to whoever was speaking on the other end, his fists tightening with every passing second.

When the call finally ended, he lowered the phone and released a heavy breath, pressing the bridge of his nose.

"You should calm down," I said gently, rubbing his arm. "You've barely slept for the past few days, and you've been working nonstop since you woke up. Whatever happened at the company, you'll sort it out."

This was my way of offering any kind of comfort I could.

Oscar slowly turned his head toward me, and the cold expression on his face made my smile disappear.

"Did I ask you to advise me?" He asked.

I blinked. "No. I just meant—"

"What exactly do you know about what's happening at the company?" He faced me fully.

"I know you're stressed, but I–"

"That's not what I asked, Agatha."

I swallowed and tried to keep my voice calm. "I studied business too, Oscar. If you want, I can help look into the problem at the company. Let me be of help to you."

He gave a short, humorless laugh. The sound made me feel more anxious than I already was, and my fingers closed tight around the edge of my nightgown.

"You studied business. And what have you done with that degree?”

I didn't answer him immediately because there was nothing I could say that wouldn't sound like bull crap. I had studied business for years, had once dreamed about building something of my own, and had even made plans for the kind of company I wanted to create.

But after our marriage, those plans had slowly disappeared beneath the responsibilities of being his wife.

"You gave up your career the moment you married me," he continued. "You chose to stay here."

"I chose our marriage." I said it quietly, hoping he would hear the meaning behind the words.

"And now you're trying to tell me how to run my company?"

"That's not what I'm doing."

I stepped closer, hoping that if I kept my voice gentle enough, he would eventually calm down. "I'm worried about you, that's all. You're putting too much pressure on yourself, and I don't like seeing you this angry."

"Did I ever tell you I was feeling pressured? Did I ask for your concern?" He looked at me like I had said something stupid.

"Oscar—"

"You have no idea what it takes to keep this family standing. I don't need your petty little opinions on serious matters that concern my company."

Oscar turned away and reached for the whiskey sitting on the small table beside him. He took a long drink, and I watched the muscles in his jaw tighten as he lowered the glass.

"Oscar, I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I was only trying to offer a suggestion. I'm only trying to help you."

He looked at me again.

"It's early in the morning, Agatha, and I'm not in the mood for any conversations with you. Learn when to keep your opinions to yourself." He said, putting on his cufflinks.

"I was only worried about you, that's why I want to help you. I want to be more than just your wife. I want to stand beside you, but every time I try you keep belittling me like I don't matter. It's not fair, Oscar."

His fingers tightened around the whiskey glass as he took a deep inhale and exhaled. "And you seem to have forgotten that you're just my wife, not my adviser. So stop acting like you know anything better than me, Agatha." He said, emphasizing on the ‘just’.

I stared at him, trying to understand how a simple attempt to comfort him had turned into another argument.

"I never said I knew more than you. I just want to help, I don't want you stressing yourself over something that can be fixed. It's affecting our marriage. You come home late, you barely talk to me because you're always working even at home, I can't even remember the last time we made love to each other, it's like you're seriously forgetting that we are married and the company doesn't just need their boss Oscar, I need my husband too."

He took the whiskey glass again and it suddenly left his hand.

It struck the wall behind me with a violent crash, and I flinched so hard that I stumbled backward. The shards bounced off the wall and scattered across the floor, and one of them sliced through the skin of my arm.

I winced and looked down. Blood was already running along my forearm.

"Oscar..."

He walked slowly toward me.

My heart began to pound, but I forced myself to remain still. I knew about his terrible temper, but there was something different about the way he was looking at me now. His fingers closed around my chin and forced my face upward.

"You seem to be forgetting something, my dear wife."

I swallowed painfully.

"I am your husband." His grip tightened just enough to hurt. "And you are just my wife."

I stared into his eyes, unable to find the man I remembered from our college days. The man I fell in love with, the man I married.

"Your place is beneath me, Agatha," he said quietly. "Not above me, not beside me, and not even behind me….beneath! You should know your place, before I actually start reminding you."

A knock sounded against the door before I could answer.

"Master Oscar?" the maid called from outside. "Madam? Breakfast is ready."

Oscar released my chin with a forceful shove.

The change in him was immediate. He straightened his shirt, adjusted his watch, and glanced toward the door as though nothing had happened. When he looked back at me, his expression was already calm.

"Clean that up," he said, his gaze dropping briefly to my bleeding arm. "You'll stain the floor."

He walked toward the door without another word.

I stood there watching him leave, too stunned to move. The door closed behind him.

For several seconds, I remained exactly where I was, staring at the broken glass scattered around my feet. My arm continued to bleed, and the sting slowly became more noticeable as the shock began to fade.

I finally walked toward the bathroom and reached for the first-aid box. As I cleaned the cut, my reflection stared back at me from the mirror. My eyes looked tired, and there was a faint red mark beneath my chin where his fingers had been.

I touched it gently.

"He didn't mean it."

Oscar was under pressure. The company had been giving him trouble for weeks, his father was demanding better results, and there was always something happening that required his attention. He wasn't sleeping properly, and I knew how much responsibility he carried on his shoulders.

He had simply lost his temper.

That was all.

I wrapped the bandage around my arm and stared at myself for a long moment.

I remembered our wedding day, the way I had looked at him when he promised to love me, and how certain I had been that I had finally found the life I wanted.

I had loved him so much that giving up my career hadn't even felt like a sacrifice at the time. I thought becoming his wife was enough. I thought building a home with him was the future I had been working toward all those years.

Maybe every marriage had difficult moments.

Maybe loving someone meant learning how to understand them even when they were difficult to understand.

I lowered my eyes and took a slow breath.

"He'll be better when things settle down."

I wanted to believe it.

So I did.