Belated Awakening

I curled up on the company sofa waiting for Ayden Martin when I casually clicked into a video that was only a few seconds long.

A hand with distinct knuckles was hooked by slender fingertips in an utterly intimate way.

The caption read like the girl's soft murmur. "While the grown-ups discussed business, I quietly reached out to his hand. I didn't expect that he, who was rational and composed in work matters, couldn't stay rational with me."

I smiled and liked it. "Ayden, look at how girls these days love writing these CEO romance stories, claiming that presidents like you secretly hold hands during business talks. Is it real or fake?"

Ayden did not even lift his head and only said faintly, "Stop watching these."

I asked with my mouth, but in my heart I knew the Ayden I knew would never do that.

After five years of marriage, every time there was a social event he only pushed me into the lounge, let alone stage these idol drama scenes.

I lowered my head and suddenly noticed the watch on the hand in the video. A luxury watch.

The anniversary gift I gave Ayden was also the same luxury watch.

...

I nervously clicked into the girl's profile.

The pinned post was a blurred side-profile photo stitched together with the girl's selfie.

Even though the picture was blurred, I recognized Ayden at a glance.

I could not believe it.

But the faint scar on the knuckle I would never mistake.

Moreover, I knew better than anyone how strict Ayden's rules were.

In five years of marriage, even I had to knock and wait for his permission before entering the office.

Yet in the video, he let a strange woman hook his hand, breaking the principles he always followed.

I felt a bit short of breath.

"Ayden." I opened my mouth, wanting to ask if the person in the video was him, wanting to ask who the girl in the video was.

Before I could ask, Ayden's phone rang urgently.

He glanced at the caller ID, quickly walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and answered in a low voice.

After hanging up, he hurriedly grabbed his coat and headed out. "I have something to do. Heading out for a bit."

My heart sank sharply.

What kind of person was Ayden?

Leaving his post during work hours was simply unthinkable for him.

Yet now he left in a hurry because of one phone call.

He never acted like this.

I thought of the girl who hooked his hand in the video, whose profile was full of him, and suddenly connected it to this call.

I staggered to my feet, accidentally twisted my ankle, yet felt no pain.

I only wanted to follow Ayden.

I had to know who he was going to meet.

Outside the conference room, an unfamiliar ladies' perfume scent drilled into my nose.

His obsession with cleanliness meant that even if my perfume was a bit strong, he would frown and pull away.

Yet the scene before my eyes nailed my feet in place.

The girl who had just come out of the interview room, with makeup completely smudged, was crying in Ayden's arms.

The girl's slightly upturned eyes were exactly the same as in the video. I would not mistake them.

Her foundation smeared onto Ayden's expensive custom suit.

Yet he showed no disgust at all and instead raised his hand to gently pat her back.

That was the intimate gesture I had craved most since becoming Ayden's wife.

But apart from our monthly intercourse, Ayden never allowed me to get close.

I did not rush up to confront them and returned to the Martin home in a daze the whole way.

Ayden's mom, Sophia Martin, already waited in the living room.

I obediently pulled out the spending records from my bag, yet the scene from the office building kept flashing in my mind.

Sophia frowned and scolded me for which expenses were unnecessary.

I did not dare to retort and had no energy to retort.

In all these years at the Martin home, I had long grown used to this.

My thoughts did not matter, and even my spending had to be questioned one by one.

Yet even so, I still lived day by day.

I waited at home for Ayden to return, hoping he would give me even just one word of comfort.

But now I realized that Ayden treated me the same way.

I returned to the bedroom after dinner and sat there for a long time.

Only when the bedroom door opened did I snap out of it.

Ayden walked in, and I looked up, noticing his bare wrist and the cheap necklace around his neck that caught the light in a glaring way.

I stopped beating around the bush and held my phone right in front of him. "Is the necklace from her?"

He glanced at the screen and pushed my phone aside. "You're being ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" I chewed on the word over and over, feeling as if my heart was crushed.

He finally looked up, with no trace of guilt in his eyes, and answered lightly. "The girl just became my secretary. She gave me a little trinket on the spur of the moment. Ella, aren't you being too sensitive?"

I felt struck by lightning. Since when did Ayden hire female secretaries?

In the past, he always chose male assistants and drivers.

He said he didn't like having women around him.

The long silence irritated Ayden, and before closing the door he only left one sentence. "I'm sleeping in the study tonight. Calm down."

I stood there motionless, the three-second video looping on my phone.

My eyes grew dry and sore, yet I couldn't even bear to blink.

I knew Ayden's personality too well.

He had so many invisible rules that he allowed no one to break.

But he let me drink from his glass and mess up his neatly organized files.

I thought those were exceptions he made for me.

Now I realized they were probably just trivial matters to him.

I stood numbly for a long time before finally gathering the courage to walk into the study.

The door was unlocked, and his chat app was automatically logged in on the computer.

In five years of marriage, this was the first time I looked at his messages.

Among many work group chats, an account nicknamed "Clairy" was prominently pinned at the top of the dialogue list.

The chat contained no explicit sweet talk, just the girl's daily fragmented murmurs to him.

Yet they hurt more than any love words.

A notification from a flower shop popped up at the top of the screen.

I stared at it for a while before reacting and clicked into the message.

The earliest order date on the details page was from a year ago.

So it started that long ago?

Back in the chat interface, I realized that the Ayden I thought was dull and old-fashioned actually remembered the types of flowers a girl liked.

I stared at the computer screen in a daze for a long time.

So long that I didn't notice when Ayden returned.

"What are you doing?" I lifted my head and met his cold gaze.

He glanced over my face, then at the lit screen.

Each heartbeat pulled at a sour ache.

I suddenly lost all strength to probe further. "The person in the video is you, right?"

Ayden paused noticeably. "What?"

I swiped open my phone, navigated to Claire's profile page, and held it out to him.

I stared into his eyes, trying to find a hint of panic.

But there was nothing.

"Just because of this?" He walked in and casually turned off the computer. "You said it yourself, girls love fantasizing about these idol scenarios. Mrs. Martin, since when did you start fussing over things like this?"

The word "fussing" stuck in my throat.

Ayden and I always seemed separated by an uncrossable winter.

Perhaps he had never truly cared about me.

"Since you're so suspicious, come with me to the dinner tonight." Ayden suddenly spoke.

I froze.

This was the first time in five years he actively suggested taking me to such an event.

"Will she be there?"

His frown deepened, as if annoyed by my questioning. "She is my secretary. Of course she will be."

His tone was straightforward, as if my question was both unnecessary and laughable.

But I still agreed.

The private room door swung open.

This was my second time seeing Claire Hardy.

No wonder she caught Ayden's eye. She was as youthful and beautiful as in the video.

"My wife, Ella." Ayden introduced me briefly to everyone.

Claire smiled and greeted me, yet didn't move from the main seat at all.

I wasn't annoyed and simply found a spot to sit.

The table full of people toasted and chatted, taking the chance to toast the young and pretty Claire.

Ayden reached over with his glass and clinked theirs. "She doesn't drink."

I watched all this in silence.

I picked up my glass and downed a large gulp.

The cold liquid slid down my throat, burning my esophagus.

Under the table, the tip of Claire's high heel lightly tapped his shoe.

When the gathering ended, Claire, slightly tipsy, leaned on Ayden and said her earring had fallen.

He bent down to pick it up without hesitation.

Revealing a faint scratch mark on the back of his neck.

He patiently squatted on the floor, searching for an earring that probably didn't even exist for another woman.

The driver first dropped Claire home.

Only the two of us remained in the back seat.

Reflected in the car window was my face that had long lost its color.

I looked out the window and suddenly spoke. "Mr. Martin appreciates her so much. He should give her a big gift at year-end."

Ayden turned his head, frowning slightly. "Give what?"

"Give her a proper status. I'll step aside for her."

The air in the car froze instantly.

Ayden stared at me, anger surging in his eyes. "Ella, that's enough. Claire is just a secretary. She was in the past, and she will be in the future. If you're unhappy, I'll just have her stay away from you less."

After saying that, he sighed and reached out as he used to, wanting to stroke my head.

I tilted my head to avoid it.

This small movement left his outstretched hand frozen in mid-air. "I'll prepare the divorce agreement. You just need to sign it."

I prepared the divorce agreement.

Ayden did not sign it and avoided the villa for a long time, as if running away.

Every other day without fail, I sent him the divorce agreement.

He still did not sign.

Ayden acted as if he had given up caring.

From then on, his name and Claire's began appearing prominently in various gossip news.

The heir to the Martin Group, known for zero scandals, now had a beautiful confidante by his side.

It became a favorite topic in high society.

No matter the occasion, if Ayden was there, Claire was too.

The news headlines shifted from initial surprised speculation to ambiguous conclusions.

Ayden was in love with his pretty secretary rising in status.

I smiled and turned off the screen.

After that, Sophia sought me out, behaving unusually. "I know you're pushing for divorce because of some little secretary. But you know better than I do what kind of man Ayden is. He carries the entire Martin Group on his shoulders. Some casual flirting outside is normal. As long as it doesn't shake your position, turn a blind eye. It's better for everyone."

Obedience had been my shackle during these five years in the Martin family.

In plain terms, the family needed a compliant and sensible mistress like me.

I smiled and withdrew my hand. "Sophia, I'm tired."

The smile on Sophia's face faded a bit. She only asked me to think it over.

Even if just to bring Ayden back first.

Family reputation mattered more than anything. She wanted me to publicly put out the fire.

I had no choice.

As soon as I entered the private room, the lively atmosphere froze.

Ayden sat in the center, with two buttons of his shirt undone.

Even after knowing him for seven or eight years, I had never seen him look so lazily disheveled.

Claire had some real skill.

Ayden looked up, a flash of surprise in his eyes.

"Hey, the wife is here?" Someone spoke up first.

All eyes focused on me.

Curious, amused, gloating.

Claire let out a soft "ah," her face showing awkwardness and unease. "Mr. Martin, has Miss Fuller misunderstood something... Should I leave first?"

She picked up her handbag and pretended to go, but Ayden grabbed her wrist and pressed her back onto the sofa.

He looked at me with interest. "Why are you here?"

I walked up to him, ignoring the others' gazes. "Sophia sent me. The recent news about you isn't looking good. She hopes you'll be more discreet and come home soon."

Ayden sneered and pulled Claire closer. "Telling me to be discreet. Ella, weren't you the one pushing for divorce just days ago? Now what standing do you have to say these things to me?"

Ayden's words were like ice picks, seemingly trying to pierce my calm.

Unfortunately, he would be disappointed. "Say whatever you want. I've delivered the message. If you want to keep playing, then keep playing. As for the divorce, the agreement is valid anytime."

My indifference seemed to enrage Ayden.

He suddenly swept the glass in front of him to the floor and stood up, walking toward me.

He spoke through gritted teeth. "Ella, it's just casual flirting. But you? Have you really stopped caring at all?"

I met his intense gaze and asked softly. "Ayden, have you ever cared?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.