Shut Up And Love Me

Cristian Mason, my husband, grabbed my arm and pressed me into the seat. "You love to drink, don't you? Fine, I'll keep you company tonight until you've had enough."

He held me down with one hand and picked up a glass with the other, downing one drink after another.

Soon, the bottle was empty.

I crossed my arms and spoke coldly. "You know playing the victim doesn't work on me."

Cristian paused mid-drink. "And you know trying to provoke me doesn't work either."

I knew that, of course.

If it did, we wouldn't still be married after two years.

"Let's go. Time to head back." Cristian took my hand and led me toward the door.

I didn't resist. Tonight's plan had fallen short, like always.

As soon as we got in the car, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

The alcohol must have hit him. He frowned and rubbed his temples.

I glanced at him, then turned my gaze to the window.

I rolled the window down slightly. The breeze brushed my face, pulling me into memories.

I knew Cristian's tolerance for alcohol well.

If I hadn't, I wouldn't have tricked him into marrying me back then.

Thinking of the past brought a pang of melancholy.

I reached into my bag and pulled out a cigarette and lighter.

I put the cigarette to my lips, ready to light it.

A hand with distinct knuckles reached over and plucked it away.

His clear voice carried a gentle, coaxing tone. "If you're craving a smoke, there's a box of snacks in front of you. Pick whatever you like."

My fingers trembled around the lighter. I opened my mouth but said nothing, putting the lighter away.

I looked down and rummaged for snacks.

Even though I knew he kept snacks for me in the car, I was still a little surprised when I opened the box.

It was full of variety, all my favorites.

I never hid my love for snacks, but I never told him which ones I liked.

I opened a bag of chips and started chewing.

The cucumber flavor I usually loved tasted bittersweet tonight.

My smoking habit started years ago in college.

Sometimes, I felt dazed by it.

How did the refined daughter of the Bailey family pick up habits I wouldn't have dared to imagine before?

Drinking heavily, racing cars, dressing rebelliously...

Even I, who once loved the piano, chose acting in college, a field I'd never touched.

Though I was still the Bailey family's daughter, I couldn't make sense of it.

"Eat less. We still have dinner at home."

The man, who had been silent with his eyes closed, spoke softly.

I turned to look at him, my gaze complicated.

Ever since he learned about my stomach issues, he monitored my meals.

He insisted I eat on time.

I couldn't accept Cristian's care with ease.

That accident two years ago was a thorn lodged in my heart.

"I'm in a play. I need to lose weight."

"Then eat and run on the treadmill afterward."

I stiffened. "No way."

Everyone knew how much I hated exercise. I was just lazy.

I only dieted when a role demanded it.

But to torture myself with exercise just to eat a little more? No thanks.

"Or we could try a different kind of exercise. I wouldn't mind."

His voice lifted playfully, dripping with implication.

My face flushed as I caught his meaning.

I glanced at the driver, who had already raised the partition.

I shot the man beside me a glare.

He was handsome, sure, but his words were infuriating.

We didn't speak for the rest of the ride.

When we got home, dinner was already set on the table.

Simple but enough. Three dishes and a soup for two.

Cristian walked unsteadily but still warmed each dish in the kitchen.

I stayed put, sitting at the table, watching him move back and forth.

If it weren't for that car accident, I might have believed Cristian loved me.

Thinking I was hungry, he called out while working. "If you're starving, eat. Don't wait for me."

I didn't touch my chopsticks.

When he finally sat down, I spoke softly. "Cristian."

He picked up some food for me and gave a faint hum.

"Let's get divorced."

"No."

"Why not?" My face tightened.

He raised an eyebrow and smirked. "You didn't say that when you forced me to marry you."

Fine. He wanted to play it like that.

I had nothing to say.

I was the one in the wrong.

If I hadn't gotten him drunk and taken advantage of him, we wouldn't be here.

Looking back, I was so reckless then.

I lowered my head and ate in silence.

He added smugly, "If you want me to agree, convince my grandpa first."

I glanced up at him.

The Bailey and Mason families were old friends. Robin Mason, Cristian's granfather, watched me grow up.

He even supported this marriage.

I couldn't face him with this.

If we didn't divorce, I might fall for Cristian. But I didn't deserve him, and he didn't love me.

Falling for Cristian was unexpected.

His meticulous care was impossible to resist.

But I'd never say that out loud.

So what could I do? I took it out on my food.

One bite after another.

Then I remembered I'd have to exercise. I regretted it when I hit the treadmill.

The next day, Robin asked us to come to the mansion for dinner.

When elders called, we had to obey.

We drove to the mansion. It was still light out.

As soon as we arrived, Robin waved me over, asking about my day with warmth.

Cristian was left aside, but he didn't mind. He sat quietly, listening to us talk.

The cozy moment was interrupted by an unexpected guest.

Howard.

Cristian's brother.

Robin's eyes lit up when he saw him, though his tone carried a hint of grievance. "Well, look who it is. You still remember you have a family?"

Old folks always wanted their descendants close.

Howard left two years ago without a word, heading overseas and never returning.

No wonder Robin was upset.

Howard walked toward us but stopped a few feet away. "Grandpa, I'm back. I'll go change first."

He nodded to us and went upstairs.

"Daisy, I'll check on the kitchen."

I nodded obediently.

But my tightly clenched hands betrayed me.

Robin stood and left after speaking.

I sat there, rigid, with Cristian watching me. "I didn't know he was back. Should we leave?"

I shook my head. "Robin's so happy. Let's not ruin it."

Robin didn't know about our issues. No need to drag him into it.

Cristian's stare made me uneasy. "I'm going to the bathroom."

When things went wrong, even the smallest things turned bad.

Just as I calmed myself and left the bathroom, I ran into Howard in the hallway.