Chapter 12 - Feliks
I opened my eyes slowly as the rays of the morning sun shone directly on my face. I yawned and stretched out on my bed. I turned my head, discovering that my little bride wasn’t by my side.
A smile carved out on my lips as I stood up and walked into the bathroom to get a shower.
While brushing my teeth, I couldn’t help but reflect on how my life had turned out in the last few months; I never thought I would be here.
I always thought having a wife would be torturous, but it relaxed me when I returned from work late at night and found her sleeping peacefully in my bed.
“I have someone to come home to.” I chuckled lightly.
I’d never settled before this. I was always traveling around for business. Finding a place of belonging finally wasn’t that bad, after all.
I walked out of the shower and went straight to my wardrobe to get dressed. I pulled out a pair of black shorts and a simple brown shirt that hugged my skin.
I looked back to my bed, and my wife still wasn’t there. I wondered if she’d gone downstairs.
“Obviously,” I murmured to myself. “Where else would she be?”
I went to the living room, still thinking about her.
A lot had changed since she came into my life, and I didn’t think there was much to regret. I hadn’t found anything to regret yet. I was smiling when I suddenly noticed someone in the dining room.
It wasn’t the housekeeper. It was my wife. She was all alone—and not just alone. Jenna was setting the dining table, wearing an apron. She wore a neutral expression, and all her attention was focused on what she was doing.
I looked around the living room and the dining room, and there was no sign of any housekeeper around. I scowled.
I stopped at the bottom of the stairs to stare at her for a while. She didn’t seem to notice that someone was watching her. I held my hand on the railing tightly as I watched my wife setting plates and other cutlery around the table.
I cleared my throat, and she quickly turned to face me, lifting her hand to her chest. She sighed when she realized that it was me.
“I am supposed to scare you more,” I murmured as I walked toward her.
She didn’t respond. She just stopped what she was doing and stared at me for a little longer.
“Where’s the housekeeper?” I asked as I stared at the table.
At that point, freshly toasted bread and fried eggs filled my nose. I could also smell orange juice, and my mouth began to water.
“I sent the housekeeper away,” she replied calmly. “I wanted to make something.”
She smiled as she turned slightly toward me, and my eyes locked hers. Her eyes glittered, and I was forced to gulp against my wish. She was effortlessly pretty, and I’d never gotten used to her looks.
I smiled, immediately recalling her response when she gave me a questioning glare. I hoped that I hadn’t been staring at her for too long.
“Oh, I see,” I responded, trying to sound normal.
I found it cute that Jenna was making something. Acting like a housewife on a Sunday morning was cute.
She smiled before she sat down and invited me to join her. I looked around the table. She opened a platter, and the aroma of the sauce filled my nose. There was freshly made bacon, too.
“I made a lot since I didn’t know what you would want for breakfast,” she told me.
“You are supposed to know that by now,” I replied.
I didn’t know why it came out and cared little about it. I stared at her, but she didn’t act like it hurt her, so I responded that way. She nodded, still maintaining a neutral look. It was hard for me to read her expression at this point.
We began to eat quietly. The dining table was awfully quiet, but Jenna didn’t look ready to start a conversation. I intentionally made some noise by hitting my cutlery hard on the plate.
She raised an eyebrow at me. “I am aware you’re doing that on purpose.”
I sighed heavily and chewed the meat in my mouth, swallowing it before opening my mouth to speak. “We are not at a funeral,” I told her. “Even during funerals, cries are heard.”
She cleared her throat and dropped her spoon on her plate. “What do you want?” Her voice shook slightly, and I could not understand why.
“I guess cooking is your hobby?” I asked.
Her expression soured a bit. I couldn’t help but notice that the question changed her countenance a little.
“Not really,” she responded. “It’s just something I’ve done from a very young age.”
My brow furrowed in confusion. Why would she cook from a very young age? Why would Jenna even cook at all, considering her high-class background?
She must have grown up in luxury, having people around to do everything for her. Why would she need to do anything at all?
I began to realize that something was off. A few things didn’t add up. “You do these kinds of things by yourself?”
I knew I still wore a confused expression. Something was wrong, and I wanted to know what.
She nodded in response to my question. I knew I would need to persuade her a bit more to ask her to open up.
“Your father has everything. You didn’t have to do anything. You just loved chores.”
She chuckled lightly, but it sounded mocking, like it was an effort to suppress some pain. I was even more interested now.
“I didn’t exactly grow up with my dad,” Jenna muttered.
“Why?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
I didn’t want to pry, but I needed to know. Had she been sold off to serve somewhere? Did she do something at a young age and get disowned? Did the housekeeper raise her?
“I had to live with my mom after she and my father divorced, and he got remarried.” There was this sadness in Jenna’s eyes. It seemed like she’d never gotten over the whole thing, and even now that she told me about it, she still felt hurt.
“Why do I feel like you’re still hurting over it?”
“I don’t know... but...” She paused and bit her lower lip, then sucked her teeth. “It’s in the past now.”
I watched every single move that she made keenly. “Still, I want to know,” I insisted.
“There’s nothing much to know. I grew up with my mom. My father is the one who has the money, not my mom. I didn’t grow up in luxury, as you seem to think. I had a...”
She paused again. Jenna’s continuous hesitation didn’t help the conversation progress, so I wondered why she did that.
“It’s just that... I haven’t been that close to my father’s family,” she said, and I could hear the resentment simmering in her voice. “I’m not close with any of them. My stepmother, her daughter. It always felt like my mom was the only one on my side.”
Her eyes lowered as she finished talking, and she smiled sorrowfully.
I could not help but wonder even more. I was grateful to know a few things about Jenna, though. At least we were getting closer.
We continued eating quietly after she was done with her story. I didn’t comment on it because I didn’t want to say anything that would cause more pain to her.
She soon stood up and walked into the kitchen while I ate. I didn’t pay much attention to her disappearance at first; I thought she just wanted to grab something in the kitchen and that she’d be back soon.
I continued eating, but I soon began to feel her absence. I turned to the wall clock at the side of the living room, sighed deeply, and faced my food again. I tried to concentrate on eating, but I found myself glancing at the clock repeatedly.
I was tired of waiting for her to return while staring at the clock. I could not even continue eating. I placed my fork on my plate and stood.
I walked toward the kitchen and met Jenna, who held her phone securely in her hands and placed it beside her ear.
She smiled genuinely as she whispered to someone over the phone. I hoped to listen to the conversation, but she stopped talking immediately after I arrived and began to listen.
I wondered why she had to stop talking right as I walked in. I stayed by the corner and watched as she continued smiling. Her fingers were placed on the fridge as she tapped it continuously.
I bit my lower lip and clenched my fist. Who the fuck was she talking to, and why was she smiling that much? I wondered if it was a man and what kind of relationship they shared.
She hadn’t smiled so much at me since I met her.
I began to consider tracking her phone. Would that be paranoid? I realized that I was obsessed with Jenna. It was unusual but intense.
Jenna turned around and saw me staring at her. The smile on her face slowly disappeared as she put her phone down. After she dropped her phone, I walked toward her, and when I got close to her, she began to move backward.
Whenever I took a step forward, Jenna took two steps backward. We continued that way until her back touched the counter.
She was breathing heavily as I stood in front of her and placed my hand on the wall beside her head. She turned to stare at my hand and slowly looked away.
“Who were you talking to?” I asked, not mincing words.
She looked up at me slowly. She opened her mouth and shut it again. I could tell that my question made her speechless, but I didn’t mind.
“Who were you talking to on the phone?” I repeated the question but made sure it came out more clearly this time. At the same time, I raised a questioning eyebrow.
“My friend,” she replied quickly. “My best friend, Violet.”
I stared intensely at her, and she quickly lowered her gaze to the floor. I could hear her breathing heavily, and her body began to tremble.
I grabbed her by the apron and pulled her sharply, causing her to gasp in fear.
“You belong to me, Jenna,” I growled in her ear. “I will never tolerate you with another man, not even a friend!”
Jenna shut her eyes tightly as I spoke.
“Understood?” I asked, and she nodded.
“Say it!”
“Yes,” she replied.
“Now say after me,” I told her.
She trembled.
“I belong to you and would never be with any other man—not even a friend!”
She repeated the words, and I felt satisfied as she said them.