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Chapter 9 — What Monsters Call Happiness

作者: Déesse
last update 公開日: 2026-07-17 08:01:13

Inès

I laugh as I bite into a green apple.

It's sour, juicy, sharp. Perfect.

I'm naked under Marius's shirt, sitting on the kitchen counter. My legs swing gently in the void while he makes scrambled eggs. He never cooks, usually. But this morning, he wants to "take care of me." He wants to play the tender man, the attentive future father. It amuses him. It gives him the illusion of being a decent guy.

And I like playing that game.

The fake is often more delicious than the real.

"Are you
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  • The abandoned wife    Chapter 20 — The Familiar Address and the Celebration

    Day is barely breaking, and already the house seems inhabited by a less foreign light. The rooms take breath again, the shadows stretch. Ezran has asked me to stay. He has said I must know every corner, that the dwelling must become familiar to me before it becomes ours. I walk the corridors with measured steps, as though each threshold I cross consecrates this place a little more to our future.We meet again in the kitchen at early morning. He has prepared coffee — a simple ritual that soothes me by its banality — and hands me the cup like an offering. His gestures are no longer merely those of a powerful man, but those of a companion who takes care. We sit face to face, and for the first time in weeks, the conversation does not turn on strategies or interdictions.He looks at me, serious, steadied by a quiet decision."There is one thing," he says. "I would prefer that you no longer address me formally."The sentence falls without emphasis,

  • The abandoned wife    Chapter 19 — The Dwelling and the Empire

    GRACIASThe car rolls through the silence, a silence heavy with unknowns. The city drifts past behind the tinted windows, its trembling lights like fireflies trapped in the night. I hardly dare ask where he is taking me. Ezran does not speak, but his hand rests near mine, within reach, like an invisible thread that keeps me from surrendering to panic.When we leave the avenue, I understand that we are going farther than the usual neighborhoods. Higher. More isolated. The gates of a majestic entrance open at our approach, without a sound, as if they already recognized his passage.The car stops before a vast dwelling with pale façades, illuminated by the lanterns of the garden. It is not an ostentatious palace, but a house that breathes solidity, calm, protection.He steps out first, then opens the door for me, a simple, almost gallant gesture."Come," he says softly.My footsteps echo on the stone path. The air smells of jas

  • The abandoned wife    Chapter 18 — The Veil and the Crown

    GRACIAI thought silence would be enough to protect me. That if I slowly sipped my pomegranate juice, if I held my breath, the evening would end without incident, like a luxurious parenthesis in this chaos. But I was wrong.He sets his glass down, without a sound this time, then folds his fingers before him. His gaze rests on me. No harshness. No visible calculation. Just that tranquil intensity that forbids me to look away."We need to talk," he says softly.His voice does not cut. It envelops, like a blanket laid over frozen shoulders. And yet, it makes me shiver.I straighten, nervous."About what?"He studies me, and I have the impression that he examines not only my face, but what I carry within me. As if the slightest vibration of my belly, the faintest echo of that life, already belonged to him."About you," he murmurs. "And the child."I clutch the glass between my hands. But I do not prote

  • The abandoned wife    Chapter 17 — The Name That Had to Be Heard

    GRACIAEverything is signed. The sound of the pen fades away, but in my chest it still echoes like a clap of thunder. It's only the friction of ink on paper, and yet I feel as though I have broken an invisible chain. An entire chapter of my life has just closed, but I don't yet dare to turn the page.When we step outside, the cool air bites at my cheeks. I could stagger, but he is there, one step behind, at exactly the right distance. Not to support me. To anchor me. His presence is a shadow that does not crush, but envelops.The limousine devours the streets as if the city were parting to let us through. I watch the façades pass by and feel as though nothing belongs to me, except this fragile second between two breaths. When the vehicle finally comes to a halt, I raise my eyes.A building rises before me, all glass and steel, standing like a challenge hurled at the sky. I recognize the place: the most renowned restaurant, the one where

  • The abandoned wife    Chapter 16 — The Ashes of Farewell

    INÈSThe air in the hotel room is perfumed with bubbles and promises, but something weighs heavy. The champagne fizzes in the flutes, a brilliant, almost cruel sparkle that contrasts with the gravity of what has just happened. I watch Marius approach the table, flute in hand, a smile on his lips, but he is absent. His gaze isn't here; it is lost, imprisoned in a labyrinth of thoughts I cannot cross."To us…" I breathe, a little uncertain, raising my glass.He takes mine, our fingers brushing, and a shiver runs through me. But his smile remains frozen, almost absent, like a façade he is forcing himself to maintain."Yes… to us," he murmurs, but his eyes drift into emptiness, and I feel an icy chill slide into my chest.I step closer and place my hand on his arm. His skin is warm, but I feel his tension, that rigidity he cannot control. His breath is short, his muscles taut, and I understand that he is still fighting his own demon."You're thinking about him, aren't you?" I say gently,

  • The abandoned wife    Chapter 15 — The Lines That Separate

    Inès The room is glacial despite the soft light filtering through the windows. The smell of paper, ink, and new leather mingles with the heavy silence. The conference table seems a battlefield where every pen is a weapon, every signature a bullet fired. Gracias sits opposite, with implacable elegance. Her dark tailored suit hugs her silhouette with an almost provocative assurance. At her side, the man. That stranger who has said nothing from the beginning, who observes everything with an icy distance. His eyes betray nothing — not even a spark of hesitation. Marius stares at the document in front of him. His hand trembles slightly, but he forces himself to maintain a straight posture. I know him too well: that rigidity is his armor, the one he wears when he feels himself collapsing inside. The lawyer gently pushes the contract toward Gracias. She takes the pen, spins it between her fingers like a dancer savoring the final step. Then, with a firm gesture, she signs. That dr

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