5. Washing Away the Kiss Marks

Ashley's forehead creased into a deep frown.

The moment the man approached with a white box, she immediately scrambled off the bed and back away. Giving as much distance as possible until her back hit the closet. Until there was no more room for her to run.

Her body stiffened, her posture was now rigid—showing a very defensive position.

The turmoil of anger still filled her chest, pressing against her ribs, and threatening to explode. Mixed with a variety of inexplicable feelings, and also a sense of... fear?

She couldn’t explain the faint, ghostly shiver that swept over her at this moment. Which made her palms wet in cold sweat and clasping tightly without her even realizing it.

It didn’t make sense. Wrath suited her current state far better than this unreasonable fear. Because, Josh was the one who had made many mistakes. A lot, in fact. And it all happened in just a matter of one day.

So, shouldn't he be the one who was currently stricken with fear? Shouldn't he be the one on his knees begging for forgiveness?

Then why did it feel like their roles were reversed?

Why was he the one who moved with such ease, wielding his power to intimidate her? 

She wasn’t supposed to be the one threatened and overtaken by fear like this. But he was.

Ashley had done nothing wrong. She had been careful and did everything very well until this moment. So she should be the one in control, not the other way around. How utterly ridiculous.

“Let's talk again when you're done.”

Ashley's sharp, sarcastic snort escaped her lips instantly. Her eyes blazed, her expression painted with raw, unfiltered rage—both in response to Josh's offer to talk and as an affirmation of the confusion warring within herself.

All her life, Ashley had endured all kinds of fear and inferiority. She had long accepted them as a part of her fate. But not with this man. Josh was not her family—he had no right to treat her as he pleased, let alone hurt her.

While Ashley remained silent with a sour look on her face, Josh struggled to hold back whatever thoughts lingering on the tip of his tongue.

The man realized that any words spoken now would only stoke the fire already raging between them. So, he chose to relent, letting the fire simmer down on its own.

“I'll wait outside,” Josh said evenly, then turned toward the door.

“You think I still want to see you after everything you’ve done?” Ashley muttered, her frustration directed at the retreating figure. Not in a loud or furious tone, but in a low, mocking murmur.

Even so Josh could still heard her, “Come out when you’ve calmed down. We both know there's a lot we need to talk about with a clear head,” Josh glanced at her before closing the door, ”I'll wait.”

Ashley snorted again, her eyes burning with disbelief at what had happened to her today. A relentless storm of misfortune had hit her hard. It didn't even give her a chance to breathe and rest for a minute. Just one cruel twist after another.

She was exhausted—physically and mentally.

How ironic. Just this morning, she had naively clung to the hope that this marriage might grant her an escape, an oasis from the chaos of her life. Whether temporary or something more.

But instead of a breath of fresh air, she had been given nothing but suffocating fumes that made it even harder to breathe.

After a moment, Ashley strained her ears, listening intently for any sound beyond the door—any sign that Josh had truly stepped away, allowing her to secure herself.

Only when silence thickened, settling heavily around her, and there was no trace of his presence nearby did she finally move. She crossed the room in careful haste and swiftly turned the lock.

Even though she had clearly heard Josh say he would be waiting outside, her mind still found it hard to trust. Ashley wasn’t willing to take the risk. There was no guarantee he wouldn’t stroll back into the room just as casually as he had earlier. So the best option was to lock the door tightly.

Her breath escaped with great relief after making sure she was truly alone—safe, with no one able to barge in.

But the moment was fleeting. Her mind replayed everything Josh had done to her. An unwanted touch and stolen breath.

Ashley’s stomach twisted. A wave of disgust surged through her. She shuddered.

Her hand shot up, rubbing furiously at her lips and face as if she could scrub away the trace of his presence. 

Without a second thought, she bolted to the bathroom, twisting the sink faucet on full blast. Cold water gushed out, and she wasted no time—splashing her face, rubbing at her skin with desperation, as if she could cleanse herself of him entirely.

Then rudely and impatiently, she pressed the facial soap bottle repeatedly until the thick liquid overflowed into her palm. Without hesitation, she smeared it across her face, ears, and neck. And her fingers moved in frantic circles.

She constantly scrubbed with ruthless force. Even the stinging sensation from the wound on her temple made her flinch, she didn’t stop. She kept rubbing her entire face until the slippery lather foamed excessively, covering her entire face and seeping between her fingers. Her goal was clear—to wash away all of Josh's saliva that stained her skin.

Ashley splashed her face with the cold water flowing from the faucet. Then she lifted her gaze to the mirror, looking at her own reflection. 

Somehow, she felt it didn’t feel like enough. The sensation of filth still clung to her like an invisible stain.

When she saw the bottle labeled with antiseptic hand soap, a thought of washing her face with it crossed her mind. If it could kill ninety-nine percent of bad bacteria—as all the ads for similar soaps claimed—then surely, it could purge Josh’s disgusting saliva off her skin too.

Her fingers twitched toward it, hovering in hesitation.

But logic cut through the frenzy of her thoughts.

She had no idea what the chemicals would do to her face. Her skin was too precious to risk like that. She wouldn’t ruin it just because of him.

So she reached for the facial soap again, squeezing more into her palms and scrubbing her face relentlessly. Over and over, she washed, scrubbed, rinsed harder and faster. She wouldn’t let it stay—the memory, the disgust, the lingering ghost of his touch. Not on her skin. Not in her mind.

She only stopped after her skin felt hot and reddened.

Afterward, Ashley stripped off her dress, letting the fabric pool at her feet. She filled the large bathtub with warm water and poured a generous amount of bath soap into it. 

She stepped in, sinking into the soothing, fragrant warmth, letting the water rise around her. Hoping it would drown out everything. Every single thing—more than just the dirt on her skin, but also the invisible filth on her memories.

She tried to forget the chaos swirling in her mind by anchoring herself to the warm sensation throughout her body. 

She took a slow, steady breath, and tried to regain her composure.

After all, she had to pull herself together and put aside all the emotional turmoil that had previously consumed her. She needed clarity, not the weight of feelings dragging her down.

Slowly, her shoulders loosened. Her breath was calm and even. The tension in her face melted away and faded. With her closed, relaxed eyes, her expression finally softened—no longer shackled by anger.

Ashley was determined to deal with Josh far more cautiously than she ever had with her own family. Careful and considerate. So that he could not do anything bad to her. She would never allow herself to look powerless in front of that man. So if he tried to break her, she would be unshaken.

Her ignorance of Josh and his family's true motives in this marriage suddenly jolted her awake.

She should have been wary earlier. Should have questioned everything instead of foolishly believing in a dream that had never been real. A fantasy woven from nothing but fragile, childish memories—ones she should not trust.