Chapter 32 - Callahan
The second I stepped into the house, something felt… off.
I loosened my tie as I closed the door behind me.
It had been one of those days—hours blurring into endless meetings, emails, and stubborn problems. My shoulders ached, and all I wanted was a shower and the sight of my wife curled up somewhere in the house.
Preferably waiting for me.
Maria appeared from the hallway just as I slipped my jacket off.
I paused.
She was still here.
That alone was unusual, considering how late it was.
“Maria,” I greeted.
“Mr. Sterling.”
Her voice carried its usual calm efficiency, but beneath it was something else. I frowned slightly. “Where’s Vani?”
Maria gestured toward the back of the house. “She’s in the library.”
Relief loosened something in my chest. Of course she was.
The library had quickly become her favorite place in the house, and more often than not, I found her there whenever she disappeared for long stretches of time.
That woman could spend hours buried in books without realizing time had passed.
A faint smile tugged at my mouth as I started toward the hallway.
“I’ll go get—”
“Mr. Sterling.”
Maria’s voice, sharper than before, halted me mid-step. I turned back, confusion prickling as I noticed her unusually grave expression and the faint hint of worry etching her features.
“Did Christina try contacting you today?” she asked.
I blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the question. Still, I nodded, curiosity and a hint of concern beginning to rise.
“Yes,” I said. “She did.”
Maria waited.
“She tried to set up a last-minute appointment,” I continued. “But I was too swamped with work to accept it.”
Maria exhaled a quiet sigh of relief, but the tension in her shoulders didn’t fade. That immediately caught my attention. “Did something happen?”
Instead of answering right away, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.
“I have something important to show you.”
I stared at the device for a moment, unsure what to expect. A message perhaps. Some kind of scheduling issue. But when she turned the screen toward me, I realized it was a video.
She pressed play.
I recognized Christina immediately. Her posture radiated confidence—almost arrogance—and the tone of her voice made my stomach knot with discomfort before her words even registered. When I understood she was criticizing the other woman’s body, my jaw clenched.
The comments were cruel and unnecessary, delivered with a casual ease that made them sound even worse. She spoke about proportions and elegance as if she were offering professional advice, but there was nothing helpful about the way she spoke.
The other woman stood facing away from the camera, and at first I could only see her back.
A head full of dark curls framed her face.
Christina continued speaking, circling slightly as she pointed out supposed flaws with a detached kind of superiority.
As Christina kept talking, my discomfort sharpened into anger, an icy chill prickling beneath my skin while I listened, unsettled and tense.
Then the woman spoke.
The instant her voice reached me, my insides froze.
It was Vani.
My wife.
My eyes locked on the screen as shock tore through me.
The woman standing there, enduring Christina’s comments, was my wife. Christina continued speaking, dismissing Vani’s reaction and insisting that she was only trying to help.
“You’re married to Callahan Sterling now,” Christina continued smoothly. “You should at least try to look elegant enough to stand next to him.”
My mind sputtered in stunned disbelief. The video played on for a few more seconds before Maria paused it, and silence pressed in, thick with confusion and anger. I struggled to make sense of what I’d just seen.
Slowly, I lifted my eyes to Maria. “What… was that?”
Maria met my gaze calmly. “Christina has been making inappropriate comments about Mrs. Sterling’s body.”
The words sounded unreal.
“Excuse me?” I said quietly.
Maria continued carefully. “She’s also commented on her hair.”
I stared at her. “What do you mean?”
Maria gestured toward the paused video. “She’s been forcing Mrs. Sterling to wear a wig.”
My mind blanked for a beat, barely able to process. "A wig?" I echoed, my voice hollow.
Maria nodded. My mind struggled with the information. When I finally spoke, my voice sounded distant even to myself.
“The curly hair Vani is wearing now…” I said slowly. “…is that a wig?”
Maria shook her head. “No, sir. That’s her natural hair."
For a second, I genuinely couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. My wife’s natural hair. Which meant— I exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand across my mouth. Vani had been wearing a wig this entire time without me noticing.
A strange mix of shock and guilt settled in my chest. How had I missed that?
How could I have been so blind to what hurt her most?
Maria watched me quietly as the realization sank in.
“She manipulated Mrs. Sterling into believing her natural hair wasn’t elegant enough,” Maria added gently.
I let out a long breath. The thought twisted something tight in my chest. Vani—who loved books and laughed easily—had apparently been convinced something about herself wasn’t good enough.
And I had never even realized.
“If you would like to deal with Christina later, you may want this video.”
I nodded. She forwarded the file to my phone. A moment later, it buzzed in my pocket. I didn’t bother checking it.
“Thank you, Maria. I’ll handle Christina,” I said calmly.
I stood there for another second, letting the anger settle into something colder and more controlled. Christina could wait. Right now, my wife was more important.
I all but ran to the library, knowing I'd probably find my wife curled with a book, completely unaware I had just learned what she’d endured.
My feet moved on instinct as I all but ran to the library, my pace increasing with each step. I didn’t slow down, not even when I reached the double doors. My hand wrapped around the handle, and I pushed the door open, stepping inside.
The sight that greeted me immediately slowed my breathing.
My wife was curled up on the sofa.
One arm was tucked beneath her head while the other rested loosely against the book in her hand.
The book had slid slightly toward her chest, her fingers still curled around the edge of the page as though she had been determined to finish it before sleep claimed her.
Her legs were tucked beneath her. The moonlight filtering through the tall windows cast a warm glow over the room.
But it wasn’t the peaceful scene that caught my attention.
But what truly arrested me—what made my chest tighten painfully—was her hair.
My eyes drifted upward, immediately locking onto the mass of curls surrounding her head.
I froze, every muscle tensing as emotion surged through me.
I just stood there, staring.
Her straight hair had always been beautiful.
When she wore it, sleek and smooth, it made her look elegant and composed, the kind of woman who could walk into a room and command attention without even trying.
Her wavy hair had its own charm, soft and flowing around her shoulders, making her seem effortlessly graceful.
But this…
This was something entirely different.
The curls were wild and soft at the same time, thick spirals framing her face and spilling over the cushion beneath her head. The light caught on the strands, making them look almost golden in places.
Words failed me. An intense wave of affection and awe took me by surprise—I hadn’t expected to feel so captivated by this simple, natural part of her.
It was devastating, the way she looked—unbearably beautiful.
Completely unfair.
She shifted slightly in her sleep, her fingers loosening around the book as it tilted further against her chest. The movement pulled me out of my thoughts and reminded me that she had clearly fallen asleep while reading.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. I moved closer, careful to keep my steps quiet as I approached the sofa. The last thing I wanted was to wake her.
When I reached her side, I crouched slightly and gently slid the book from her hand. Her fingers tightened instinctively around it, like she was determined not to let it go even in her sleep.
“Relax,” I murmured quietly.
Her grip loosened again.
I opened the book just enough to see where she had left off before sleep took over. Her bookmark was tucked neatly between the pages, a little further in. I carefully slid it into place where she had stopped and closed the book.
Once it was secured, I set it aside on the table.
My attention returned to her immediately.
She looked comfortable enough, curled up on the sofa with her cheek pressed into the cushion, but the position couldn’t have been good for her neck. If she stayed like this too long, she would wake up sore.
Not wanting to wake her, I slid one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back. She barely stirred as I lifted her.
The movement was smooth and instinctive, her body settling naturally against my chest as if she had done this a hundred times before. Her head tipped slightly toward my shoulder, the curls brushing lightly against my jaw.
I carried her out of the library and down the hallway toward our bedroom, keeping my steps slow so I wouldn’t disturb her. The house was quiet, the calm atmosphere making the moment feel strangely peaceful.
When I reached the bedroom, I nudged the door open with my shoulder and stepped inside. I walked over to the bed and carefully lowered her onto the mattress. She shifted slightly but didn’t wake as I adjusted the pillow beneath her head and pulled the blankets up around her.
She was still fast asleep.
That was when I remembered something.
Her bonnet.
I had watched her do her nightly routine enough times to know how important it was. She never went to sleep without putting it on. I walked over to her dresser and opened the drawer where she kept it.
The satin bonnet was folded neatly inside.
I picked it up and returned to the bed, sitting beside her as I looked down at her curls.
After watching her go through her nightly routine so many times, I was confident I could put it on without a problem.
But that had been before she revealed this gorgeous head of curls.
There was far more hair than I had expected. I hesitated for a moment before attempting to gather the curls carefully, trying not to disturb her as I pulled the bonnet open. One curl slipped free. Then another.
I frowned slightly.
This was clearly not going to be as simple as I thought.
Not wanting to mess it up, I reached for my phone and opened YouTube. A quick search brought up several tutorials. I clicked on one, watching carefully as the woman in the video demonstrated how to properly apply a bonnet on curly hair.
I followed along step by step, gently gathering the curls and pulling the bonnet over them exactly the way the tutorial showed.
After a few minutes of careful adjustments, I finally managed to secure it.
I leaned back slightly, studying the result.
It looked right.
At least, I hoped it did.
Satisfied, I stood up and quietly left the bedroom so I wouldn’t disturb her. Once I was in the hallway, I pulled out my phone and dialed Daniel.
He answered quickly. “Sir.”
“I need you to extend an invitation to Christina to the ball.”
I woke the moment Vani’s breathing changed.
It was subtle, the kind of shift most people would sleep through. One moment, Vani’s breaths were slow and deep, her body relaxed against mine beneath the blankets. Next, they shortened slightly, her chest rising just a little faster.
“Good morning,” I murmured.
The silk bonnet sat securely over her hair, and the long sleep dress she wore covered her from shoulders to ankles. Her face was completely bare, and the morning light filtering through the curtains made her look softer somehow.
She smiled faintly. “Morning.”
The guilt I’d gone to sleep with rushed back immediately. I pushed myself up onto one elbow, facing her fully. “Before you say anything else, I need to apologize.”
Her brows pulled together in confusion. “For what?”
“For Christina,” I said instantly. “For the way she spoke to you. For not shutting it down faster.”
Vani blinked at me.
“Callahan, it’s fine,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “Really.”
“No,” I said firmly. "It's not fine."
She paused.
“I don’t want you thinking for even a second that what she said reflects how I see you,” I added.
Confusion flickered across her face.
“I’m attracted to you, Vani,” I said plainly.
Her lips parted slightly.
“Even now,” I said, “when you’re barefaced, your hair’s in a bonnet, and you’re wearing a sleep dress, I still find you attractive. It's actually concerning how much I desire you.”
“Oh,” she said slowly.
I tilted my head slightly. “Oh?”
Her eyes narrowed just a little. “You spoke with Maria.”
I didn’t answer. That was answer enough. She groaned softly, dragging a hand over her face.
“I swear she means well,” I muttered.
“I know she does.”
Vani sighed and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “It’s really not a big deal,” she said after a moment.
“Yes, it is,” I said calmly, “You don’t have to pretend otherwise, not with me.”
She smiled, but the smile disappeared almost immediately as her hands suddenly flew to her head. “Oh my God.”
I frowned slightly. “What?”
“My hair.”
Then she froze. Slowly, she turned to look at me. “Did you put my bonnet on?”
I shrugged. “You fell asleep before you could.”
She stared at me for a second before letting out a long breath of relief.
“Thank God,” she said.
"I have something to say, and I need you to listen," she nodded, giving me her undivided attention.
"I love your hair. I've only seen it once, and already I can't help but want to look at it all the time.
Don't get me wrong, I like you with straight hair or wavy hair too.
But just knowing that your curls are what God naturally designed for you makes them so much more stunning in my eyes.
I'm genuinely concerned for my health at this point.
If you look any more beautiful, I might die from excitement. "
"Stop it," she choked out. "It's not that great."
"It is," I replied firmly. "I'm even more obsessed with you now. I'll get down on my knees if that'll make you agree."
She laughed. "There's a lot more I can do with my hair. Will that make you more obsessed with me?"
"Hmm, talk dirty to me, Firefly."
She chuckled, shoving me away so she could get up. "I'm hungry."
"I am too. Give me a kiss."