CHAPTER SIX

The Name She Shouldn't Mention

“You hesitated.”

Luke’s fingers suddenly paused around the whiskey glass. Then he lifted the glass to his lips, his face void of expression. Abigail stood across the living room with her arms crossed, watching him closely.

“No I didn't,” Luke said, his voice even.

Abigail took a step closer. “You did. Back there when mother mentioned Obetta.”

His jaw tightened. He dropped the glass down on the sleek bar cart beside him, his movements slow and deliberate. “This conversation is over.”

Abigail ignored that. “She was important, wasn’t she?”

Luke turned, his gaze cool but dangerous. “Abigail.”

She smiled, but there was no sign of warmth in it. “You didn’t deny it. ”

There was long silence between them, thick and tense.

Abigail tilted her head slightly, observing him. “Your mother clearly wants her back in your life. So why marry me?”

Luke’s fingers held the glass again, but this time, he didn’t drink. “You ask too many questions.”

“And you answer too few.”

Luke exhaled slowly, as if pulling back some invisible hand holding him. Then he pulled his eyes away, resting it on the city skyline beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The glow of the buildings reflected on his sharp features, but his face remained unreadable.

“You’re my wife, just in name Abigail. Nothing more.”

Something in her chest twisted, but she forced herself to smirk. “Right. Except the way you reacted earlier says otherwise.”

Luke’s head turned toward her, his gaze sharper now. There was a hint of something in his eyes—irritation,maybe more—but he masked it quickly. “I owe you no explanation Abigail.”

Abigail stepped towards him, closing the space between them. “You owe me honesty.”

Luke let out a humorless laugh. “Honesty?” He took a step toward her, his presence suddenly overpowering. “You think this marriage is built on honesty?”

Abigail refused to back down. “No. But it’s built on something.”

Luke’s gaze darkened, his fingers tapping once against the glass before he set it down. He studied her, his silence almost heavier than words.

“Go to bed, Abigail.”

She didn’t move immediately. Instead, she stood there, looking at his face inorder to see the signs. The tension in his shoulders, the way his hands had curled slightly into fists—he was affected, whether he admitted it or not.

She finally turned, walking away. But as she stepped toward the bedroom, she spoke without looking back. “You still care about her.”

Luke’s breath seized, but he said nothing.

Abigail didn’t press further. She already had her answer.

....

The light in the bedroom was low and the city light could be hardly seen because the heavy curtains blocked them. Abigail sat at the side of the bed, running her fingers along the hem of her dress lost in deep thought.

She had saw the way he reacted earlier. Luke wasn’t the type to react angrily. His anger was quieter and controlled. But tonight, he had almost lost control, even if just for a second.

Obetta.

The name stayed in her mind filled with meaning that was left unsaid.

She heard the door push open, followed by slow and deliberate footsteps. Luke.

She remained the way she was, not turning around.

He moved to the wardrobe, pulling off his jacket. The gentle sound from the fabric filled the air, but neither of them spoke.

Finally, he broke the silence. “You need to understand something, Abigail.”

She looked up, meeting his reflection in the mirror. He had an unreadable expression, but his eyes—there was something there, something being suppressed.

“There are rules in this marriage,” he continued. “You play the role in public but privately, we are nothing.”

The words pressed on Abigail's chest like a cold block.

“So that's what this is all about?” she asked, her voice low. “You expect me to play your perfect wife when people are watching, but behind door, I don’t exist to you?”

Luke turned, his gaze locking onto hers. “Yes.”

Abigail held his stare, refusing to let him see the way his way his word affected her. “You can’t control what I ask, Luke.”

“I can control what I answer.”

His voice was cool and firm. The finality in his tone made it clear—this was a boundary she wasn’t meant to cross.

Abigail let out a slow sign, then stood up. She walked past Luke and moved toward the bathroom, but suddenly stopped at the doorway. “You can pretend all you want,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “But some things don’t stay hidden.”

Luke didn’t respond.

She shut the door behind her, the quiet sound echoing in the space between them.

….

Morning light came into the bedroom, casting soft shadows across the sheets. Abigail lay awake, staring at the ceiling. She hardly slept last night.

Luke’s words still echoed in her mind.

"Privately, we are nothing."

Abigail sat up exhaling slowly then pulling the soft blanket off her legs. The room was silent except for the distant sound coming from the city below.

In the adjoining bathroom, she heard the faint rush of water. Luke was awake.

Few minutes later, he came out, already dressed in a crisp shirt and trousers. He hardly looked at her direction as he moved toward the closet.

“Good morning,” she greeted, checking out his reaction.

Luke buttoned his cuff. “Morning.”

The response was distant.

Abigail let out a forced smile. “So you're going to pretend I don’t exist now?”

Luke breathe out deeply, adjusting his watch on his wrist. “I told you, Abigail. There are rules.”

She got down from the bed, her bare feet pressing against the cold floor. “And if I break them?”

Luke met her gaze for a long moment. Then, with a final tone, he said, “Then you’ll regret it.”

Shivers ran through her, but she covered it with a smirk. “That almost sounds like a threat.”

Luke stepped closer, his presence looming. “It’s a warning.”

For some moments, none of them spoke. A Lot meant to be spoken were left hanging in the air like something sharp-edged and dangerous.

Then, just as soon as he closed the distance, Luke stepped back. “I will be busy today,” he said. “Don't wait up for me.”

Abigail watched as he left the room without looking back.

She hated how much his indifference affected her.

She breathed out deeply moving to the bathroom, determined not to let Luke get into her head that morning. But as the water from the shower fell on her, her mind drifted back to last night.

He still care about her. He might not admit it, but his reaction to Obetta’s name told her everything she needed to know.

This marriage was supposed to be transactional, but there were too many secrets between them.

And Abigail wasn’t the type to let things go unanswered.