Calling husband sweetly

Though I am annoyed half to death I remain seated facing Roan, the tension between us palpable, like a taut wire ready to snap. Durleigh, ever so bubbly, sits between us, oblivious to the storm brewing.

She pulls out her colorful notebook, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "So, how has it been so far? Have our lovely couple been getting along?" she asks, her voice chirpy.

Roan and I remain silent, our eyes locked in a silent battle. Durleigh, undeterred, continues, "Any arguments lately?"

Again, silence. She sighs, scribbling something in her notebook. I catch a glimpse of her notes: *No progress, couple isn't trying, recommend a divorce after a year instead.*

My heart skips a beat. "What... what are you writing?" I stammer.

Durleigh looks up, her expression stern. "Since neither of you are taking this seriously and wasting my time, I might as well recommend a divorce after a year."

Roan and I protest simultaneously. "No, no, Durleigh, you misunderstand," I say, while Roan adds, "We are cooperating."

Durleigh seems appeased, scratching out her previous words. "Good," she says, her tone lighter. "So, how was this first week? Any complaints or good news to share?" She glances at my stomach, and I feel a surge of irritation.

This woman is too nosy, like an overenthusiastic mother-in-law. Even my actual mother-in-law isn't this overbearing.

Seeing our reluctance to participate, Durleigh sighs. "How about this? Let's have a meal. Maybe then you can relax a little, and I can see how you interact with each other to make a plan forward."

Roan and I exchange a glance. We both just want this to end, so we agree. Besides, I am hungry anyway.

Ten minutes later we enter the rooftop restaurant owned by Charlene, Roan's grandmother. The place is familiar, a chain of memories flooding back.

This is where my mother-in-law insisted I meet Roan for his birthday dinner. She had nagged me about being useless and not working hard enough for a harmonious family. I remember finding Roan with his business associates, celebrating happily.

When they saw me it was obvious that I was unwelcome. I held on to the small cake box feeling nervous. I could have walked out but my entire family needed this marriage to work plus back then I blamed myself for the hotel incident.

They made me feel small, and Roan didn't defend me. After dinner, he scolded me, saying, "Why are you pretending to be so pitiful? Was that your plan, to follow me here and get bullied so I would feel sorry for you?"

His words had cut deep, leaving me standing there, lost. He had told me to find my own way home.

Durleigh's voice snaps me back to the present. "Selene?" she calls, and I glare at Roan. His brow arches as he stares back at me, the tension between us unbroken.

Roan walks towards me, his intention clear as he reaches for my chair. But I pull it out myself, sitting down with a defiant glare. The anger in my eyes is unmistakable. Durleigh, ever the observer, says, "I will sit at the next table and observe you two. Act like I am not here."

I snap, "That would be a little too hard to do with you staring at us." Frustration bubbles inside me. Why are we even doing this? I just want to be back at my office, lounging on the couch with June and Levi, watching a movie.

"I am sorry, I am just a little tired," I say, trying to soften my tone.

Durleigh doesn't mind. "Anger is good, it's progress," she says, walking away. A waiter arrives with the menu, saying a few words I don't catch. I am too busy scanning the menu. Despite my disdain for the Kingsley family, I have to admit their food is excellent.

"Selene," Roan calls out, pulling me from my thoughts. I look up absentmindedly. "Huh?" I reply softly.

Roan's lips twitch. "Let's get along for her sake so we won't be stuck with weekly couple's therapy."

I sneer inwardly but glance at Durleigh, who is eagerly jotting down notes. She looks up and smiles, so I force a smile back. "Okay, honey, would you like me to order something for you? That's what loving couples do, right?"

Before Roan can refuse, I call the waiter. After years of trying to please this man I fully was aware of his preferences. Too bad I was going to use them to punish him.

"We are ready to place our order. I would like to surprise my husband, so can I write it down?" The waiter glances at Roan, seeking permission. Roan nods slightly, allowing me to proceed but I can tell he is uncomfortable.

I smile sweetly. "Husband, you spoil me so much." Sticking my tongue out playfully, I jot down a list of dishes. When I am done, I feel a bit of my anger dissipate. The waiter looks hesitant as he reads the list but nods. "Okay, Madam," he says before walking away.

I prop my head up with my hand, my elbow resting on the table. Roan taps the table gently. "What did you order?" he asks.

"It's a surprise," I reply, a hint of mischief in my voice.

The waiter brings our drinks, placing a vibrant tequila sunrise in front of Roan. He looks at it with clear reluctance; sweet things have never been his preference. "Don't you like it?" I ask, grabbing the glass and taking a sip. Clicking my tongue, I say, "It's so delicious, husband, try it."

Roan's annoyance is barely concealed, but I am not done with him. I pat the back of his hand. "Husband, we have already kissed and done… other things, so how can you be grossed out by sharing a drink?" I know Roan's extreme mysophobia well, and the fact that we are even holding hands must be tormenting him like ants crawling at his skin.

I see the storm brewing behind his dark eyes, and it fascinates me. Rubbing his hands, I ask with genuine concern, "Husband, what's wrong? You seem flustered." I am building up to my ultimate move. Reaching out, I touch his cheek. "Husband, what's wrong? You seem a little pale."

Roan suddenly grips my wrist, his voice a low growl. "Don't overdo it."

I smirk, making sure Durleigh can't see. "Ouch, husband, it hurts." Roan's eyes widen, and Durleigh looks over, puzzled. Roan's eyes seem to ask if I am crazy.

The answer to that is yes, yes I am fucking crazy. I smile sweetly. "Husband, we can only do that later, not here." The implication is clear.

Roan's eyes darken, and Durleigh seems pleased as she jots down notes. Roan lets go of my wrist and stands up. "Husband, where are you going?" I ask sweetly. Roan glares at me, his frustration evident.