5

    He threw me into the sea, leaving my ears and eyes stinging. I quickly surfaced, ready to retaliate against the man I had just cursed for being selfish and impossible. Yet, as always, I was at a disadvantage. I had assumed Toop Pasutha, the polished celebrity, was physically weak, but clearly, I had been wrong.

    “How long are you planning to sit there? Go shower already.”

    I glared at him, still fuming, my eyes stinging from tears mixed with salty water. Meanwhile, he had already cleaned himself up.

    “Anshan.”

    “I heard you. No need to repeat yourself.”

    “You’re so— Wait, did you just bump into me on purpose, Anshan!”

    I did not look back at him, despite the accusatory tone in his voice. Yes, I had intentionally bumped his shoulder as I walked past. Knowing he would not stop bothering me, I quickly ran into the bathroom and locked the door. There was no going back between us. As I unbuttoned my shirt, I realized it was not just soaked with seawater but also coated in sand. While sand could be washed away, the state of my relationship with Toop felt far less resolvable. In my anger earlier, I had thought, screw it all. But now, I was not I.

    He had no fondness for me to begin with, and after this outburst, expecting him to care or for things between us to improve felt foolish. I was being too greedy to hope for love from him.

    Despite how bleak things seemed, I still could not stop feeling for him. It was not infatuation with his looks, his status, or even his fame. I just wanted him to care a little—to see me for who I really was. I had hidden my true self for too long. Could he not stop being so cruel and notice me?

    “Where’s the towel and my change of... Ah.”

    I slapped my forehead, realizing I had not grabbed a towel or a change of clothes. My discarded shirt was too filthy to wear again. It would not take long to step out and retrieve something from my bag, but the thought of facing Toop after having just run away from him made me hesitate.

    “He’s not there anymore.”

    Even so, I had to step out eventually. Peeking out through the slightly ajar door, I smiled faintly as I glanced around. Toop did not usually care to look at or be near me, so why would he wait around to confront me? Relieved, I stepped out of the bathroom with little concern for the fact that I was not wearing a shirt.

    “Mr. Toop!”

    The name escaped my lips when I saw him emerge from behind the bathroom door of the vacation home. He had known I would come out—had been waiting for me, hiding.

    “Wh-What are you staring at?”

    Though I had left the bathroom smug, I quickly paled when I saw him. Toop stood there, hands clasped behind his back, scanning me from head to toe. My heart pounded wildly, and there was no way I could just stand there. I instinctively hugged my arms tightly around my chest.

    “What’s the problem?”

    His calm voice carried a hint of menace, paired with a smirk that somehow made him look even more handsome.

    “I’ve seen more than that already. Why act so modest now?”

    “It’s my right—it’s my body.”

    I stammered. He snorted in a way that shattered his gentlemanly image, shrugging nonchalantly and leaving me fuming. But I could not just stand there locked in a stare-off. I needed to get my clothes and shower so I could finally eat dinner.

    “Here are your clothes.”

    He unclasped his arms, handing me the items I needed. For a moment, I struggled to speak smoothly as I did. Maybe Toop had not been waiting to get back at me. Maybe he simply wanted to give me the clothes.

    “Hurry up and take this, and shower quickly. I’m hungry.”

    “Huh?”

    “I said, I’m hungry.”

    His face was stern, and his tone was firm.

    I quickly grabbed the clothes from his hand and turned to head into the bathroom, but for a split second, I caught myself hoping for something absurd—for my selfish husband to show some care or concern. A ridiculous dream, clearly.

    Yet my thoughts kept circling back. Perhaps I was emboldened after the beach incident, but after showering and preparing dinner using whatever was available in the fridge—minced pork omelet, fried fish, and a salad that Toop had once seemed to enjoy—those lingering feelings of anger, frustration, and hurt did not fade entirely. Even as we were eating together with the door open, allowing the evening breeze to flow in.

    Watching him, Toop Pasutha, the husband who, since we got married, had rarely spent time with me eat the meal I had made, focusing intently as if it truly satisfied him, made me bite my lip to stifle a smile. For a moment, I had expected the fallout from our earlier argument at the beach to make him angrier than usual.

    “What are you smiling at?”

    “Uh.”

    Lost in thought, I had not realized he had looked up. The surprise made me choke on my rice.

    “Serves you right.”

    “You—”

    His smirk was frustrating, unlike before. Before the wedding and in the early days afterward, his expressions had been softer. Later, he had been perpetually stern—until now. I gritted my teeth, an act I had never displayed toward my husband before.

    “How dirty, clean yourself up properly,”

    he said, his sharp words cutting, though he handed me a tissue.

    “No need.”

    Even as my heart raced at the gesture, I knew he had done without a shred of care—Toop did not feel anything for me. As much as I wanted to take the tissue from his hand, I chose instead to wipe my face with the back of my hand. Mr. Superstar had said he wanted me to be myself, so fine—I would do just that.

    “Anshan, are you deliberately trying to pick a fight with me?”

    He stood, his tone sharp as he glared down at me.

    “I don’t see how this counts as picking a fight. I just didn’t take your tissue and wiped my face with my hand instead. Is that enough to send you into a tantrum, Mr. Toop? A bit over the top, don’t you think?”

    “I—”

    “You’re the one picking a fight. Don’t take your frustration out on me. Ah, don’t come any closer!”

    I began to stand, but Toop took a single step, closing the distance and blocking any chance of escape. Dear God, please help me. Will I even survive this honeymoon?

    “So, now that I’ve told you to be yourself, you’re suddenly defiant and cheeky, huh?”

    I could not find the words to reply. A moment ago, I had been full of defiant words, but now I was too anxious to speak. My eyes squeezed shut as Toop leaned in, placing both hands on the armrests of my chair to trap me. When I opened my eyes, ready to retort, I realized how close we were.

    Only a few centimeters separated us.

    “What? Weren’t you so tough? Go on, say something. Argue with me.”

    “W-why should I do what you say?”

    Even though I managed to talk back to him a little, it felt like nothing had really changed between us. My mouth might have been bold, but my heart was still timid, forcing me to look away.

    “Foolish wife.”

    “You—!”

    I turned, ready to retort at his insult, his constant habit of calling me foolish. But as I faced him, I felt the soft press of tissue against the corner of my mouth. It was his hand holding it, wiping gently despite the stern look on his face.

    “Foolish.”

    This should have been a romantic moment, but it was anything but. My sharp-tongued husband seemed to be doing something kind, yet his words sharp and precise, could put even the sharpest scissors to shame.

    “Where are you going now?”

    As he pulled back, I stood up to walk away, but his voice stopped me.

    “I’m full. Let me know when you’re done.”

    “An, Anshan—!”

    He called after me as I tried to hide my face and eyes, which had to have betrayed my sinking mood. I wanted to be myself more, but I was not someone who could always be bold or sharp-tongued.

    When Toop wiped my mouth, I kept the tissue. My heart had been pounding, but if that was his version of kindness, could he not also use kind words with me just once?

    The sound of the waves at night was clearer than in the afternoon, bringing a sense of calm. Yet, part of me felt uneasy. The island was deserted save for the two of us, and I wondered if anyone—or anything—might suddenly appear in the dead of night to startle us. Still, the exhaustion from flying, boating, walking to the house, and bickering with Toop before being thrown into the sea, all caught up with me. As soon as I entered the bedroom, I collapsed onto the bed and closed my eyes.

    When I woke, however, an unsettling feeling lingered.

    Even though my feelings of inadequacy and frustration with him had not faded, I found myself strangely affected when I left the bathroom and saw the dishes neatly put away in the sink—Toop had to have cleaned up. That surprised me. Still, the invisible barrier between us, like a veil of mist, remained as it always had. That unsettling feeling stirred something deeper. We had been fighting, so why did I suddenly long for him? Why did I wish for his embrace?

    “Anshan.”

    “Mr. Toop.”

    I jolted at the faint, low murmur of his voice.

    The glow from the light outside the house spilled through the glass window near the bed. When I turned toward him, I saw his face slightly flushed, his sharp eyes reflecting something unfamiliar. The sight sent my heart racing, my breath was warm and uneven, until it caught, as I froze when I felt movement against my chest. Looking down, I realized he had slipped his hand inside my shirt.

    “What are you doing?”

    He gave a faint smile that sent shivers through my body and heart.

    “What do husbands and wives usually do?”

    His husky voice made the heat in my body intensify.

    “But—ah, Mr. Toop.”

    I wanted to object, but his warm hand brushed against my skin despite the barrier of clothing. One of my nipples rubbed against the fine fabric, while the head of my arousal felt the faintest pressure, leaving me stiff and confused. What was happening? Why were both Toop and I acting so strangely?

    “It’s pink, Anshan.”

    “Ah—what are you saying?”

    He murmured the words while his restless warm hand continued its exploration, his posture unchanged while his eyes fixed on me. Slowly, his hand moved away from teasing my chest beneath the shirt. But instead of stopping altogether, as I weakly willed him to, a part of me secretly wanted more. His hand now began unbuttoning my shirt.

    “Your nipples. I saw it when you came out for your clothes.”

    “You’re—ah, Mr. Toop!”

    He did not let me finish my protest. From his position lying on his side, he shifted, pinning me underneath him. All I could do was stare at him.

    “You said I drag you to bed at the slightest excuse.”

    “Yes.”

    My voice was faint, my gaze locked with his, which now carried an intensity that mirrored my inner turmoil.

    “You’re being yourself now, but you still look like you’re about to cry.”

    “That’s—”

    my business, I meant to say. My eyes flicked away to hide my growing vulnerability, but when I looked back, meaning to talk to him sternly—when, I could not tell—he had unbuttoned my shirt entirely. His breath warmed my cheek as his face leaned closer, whispering words that set my entire body aflame.

    “If before, I made you feel like I was forcing you.” His nose trailed along the edge of my face, his warm breath following. “Then tonight, I’ll ask for permission.”

    He locked eyes with me again, his face mere inches away, his breath soft against me.

    “You’ll feel good, so would you let your husband inside you?”