Alex, the Jealous Husband

It started with the little things—things Alex had never noticed before, but now seemed to be magnified under a glaring light. The way Isabella smiled when Ethan, her colleague, stopped by her office to chat. The ease with which she laughed at his jokes. How she looked more relaxed when she was around him than when she was with Alex.

At first, Alex tried to brush it off. He had no reason to be jealous. He was Alexander Gray, after all. He could command fear and respect from the most powerful men in Tokyo. But there was something about the way Isabella interacted with Ethan that gnawed at him.

One afternoon, he caught them walking down the hallway together, deep in conversation, their voices too low for him to make out what they were saying. Isabella was smiling—that bright, genuine smile that he had seen so rarely before she moved back in with him. His chest tightened with an unfamiliar, uncomfortable emotion. Jealousy.

Alex stood in his office, his fists clenched at his sides as he stared out at the Tokyo skyline. Why did it bother him so much? Ethan wasn't a threat. Isabella was his wife, and she had made it clear she wanted to make things work between them. But the thought of her laughing and joking with another man burned him in a way he hadn't anticipated.

Later that night, as they sat down for dinner, Alex's mood was colder than usual. He watched Isabella from across the table, his eyes narrowed slightly as she ate in silence. She seemed oblivious to the tension radiating from him, her mind elsewhere.

"How was your day?" Isabella asked, breaking the silence.

Alex took a sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving hers. "Busy. And yours?"

She shrugged lightly. "Same as always. Meetings, paperwork... nothing exciting."

He leaned forward, his gaze intense. "I saw you talking with Ethan earlier. You two seem... close."

Isabella blinked, clearly surprised by the comment. "Ethan? Oh, we were just discussing the new project."

"Really?" Alex's voice had an edge to it. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself."

Isabella frowned, setting her fork down. "What are you getting at, Alex?"

"I'm not getting at anything," he said, his tone hardening. "I just find it interesting how much time you spend with him."

Her eyes widened slightly in realization. "Wait, are you jealous? Of Ethan?"

"Why would I be jealous?" Alex snapped, though even he could hear the unconvincing note in his voice.

Isabella stared at him for a moment, her expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. Then, to his surprise, she started to laugh—soft, melodic laughter that only fueled his frustration.

"You're serious?" she asked, still smiling. "Alex, Ethan is just a friend. Nothing more."

Alex's jaw tightened. "I'm not jealous," he muttered, though he could feel the heat rising in his chest.

Isabella shook her head, her smile fading slightly. "You don't need to be. I'm with you, Alex. Not Ethan. You have nothing to worry about."

Her words should have been reassuring, but instead, they only stirred up more conflicted emotions inside him. It wasn't that he didn't trust Isabella—it was that he didn't trust himself. He had never been good at handling emotions, especially not ones as volatile as jealousy. He had always prided himself on control, on keeping his feelings in check. But with Isabella, that control seemed to slip more and more each day.

"You shouldn't be spending so much time with him," Alex said, his voice low.

Isabella's expression hardened. "I don't like where this conversation is going. I'm not going to stop talking to my colleagues just because you're feeling insecure."

"Insecure?" Alex echoed, his temper flaring. "I'm not insecure. I'm just saying—"

"You're just saying that you don't trust me," she interrupted, her voice sharp now. "That's what this is about, isn't it? You think I'm going to run off with someone else because... what? You haven't been treating me well enough?"

Alex flinched at her words. He had been trying to change, trying to be better for her, but it wasn't easy. And now, seeing her laugh and smile with someone else made him question everything. He didn't know how to express the fear and confusion that gnawed at him, so instead, he lashed out.

"I don't want you spending time with him," he said coldly.

Isabella stared at him, disbelief written all over her face. "You can't just tell me who I can and can't talk to, Alex."

"I'm your husband," he said through gritted teeth. "You're my responsibility."

Her eyes flashed with anger. "I'm not some possession, Alex. I'm your wife, not your property."

The room fell into a tense silence. Alex clenched his fists under the table, his heart pounding with frustration. He hated this. He hated the way he felt out of control, the way jealousy had taken root in him like a poison. And most of all, he hated that he was pushing her away when all he wanted was to keep her close.

Without another word, Isabella stood up from the table and walked out of the room, leaving Alex alone with his conflicted thoughts.

---

The next morning, Alex woke up to an empty bed. Isabella had left early, her side of the bed cold. He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, the weight of his own stubbornness pressing down on him. He had pushed her too far.

When he arrived at the office later that day, he found Isabella in her office, going through paperwork. She looked up when he entered but quickly returned her focus to the task at hand, offering him nothing more than a curt nod. The cold distance between them felt suffocating.

As the day wore on, Alex found himself unable to concentrate. His mind kept drifting back to the argument from the night before. He knew he had been wrong, but apologizing wasn't something he was good at. He didn't know how to express regret, not without feeling weak.

When the workday finally ended, he walked over to Isabella's office. She was packing up her things, her expression calm but distant.

"Isabella," he said, his voice softer than usual.

She glanced at him, her eyes tired. "What is it, Alex?"

He hesitated for a moment, the words stuck in his throat. But then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I... I'm sorry about last night."

Isabella didn't respond right away. She simply stared at him, as if waiting for more.

"I shouldn't have acted the way I did," Alex continued, his voice low. "I was... jealous, and I didn't know how to handle it. I don't want to push you away. I don't want to be that person."

For a moment, there was silence between them. Then, finally, Isabella's expression softened.

"I'm not going anywhere, Alex," she said gently. "But you need to understand that I'm not going to be controlled. I'm here because I want to be, not because I have to be."

He nodded, his chest tightening with a strange mix of relief and guilt. "I know. I just... I don't want to lose you."

Isabella smiled faintly, stepping closer to him. "Then stop pushing me away."

And for the first time in a long time, Alex felt like he was finally starting to understand.