Ruby
I know I messed up. And yeah, I'll take the full blame for it. Not eating, not sleeping, letting myself crash—classic Ruby Sun, heiress of bad decisions. Now I'm paying for it. My head's pounding, fever's gnawing at me, and Aveline's mad as hell.
But she's still here. Still taking care of me. Even when I half-wish I'd just disappear.
This morning, it wasn't an alarm that woke me—it was Leon. His sloppy tongue all over my face, tail wagging like crazy.
"Hey, buddy, chill," I muttered, groaning. "What's wrong?"
He barked once, then bolted straight for the door. Like he was telling me come on, dumbass, follow me. And of course, I did.
Through the kitchen, into the backyard—and then I saw her.
Aveline.
Apron tied around her waist, messy bun barely holding her hair, sunlight spilling over her like she belonged to it. She was flipping something in the pan, completely in her own little world, not knowing I was there.
God. My head was killing me, but watching her like that made me forget the pain. Made me remember why I kept fighting.
I coughed—on purpose.
She glanced back, and her brows pinched the second she saw me. "You should be in bed, resting."
I smirked, even though my throat felt raw. "Can't help it. My wife's out here looking like sin."
She raised an eyebrow, scoffed. Real anger flashing. "Don't wife me, Ruby Denial Sun."
Ouch. Full name. Yeah, she was pissed.
I groaned, holding my temple, and dragged myself onto the counter. My head felt like it was splitting. She walked over anyway, palm soft against my forehead.
"Shit, you're burning up."
I just stared at her. Didn't answer. Couldn't.
"Your head—hurting?" she asked, voice dropping softer than she meant it to.
I nodded. She sighed.
"After breakfast, you're going back to bed. No arguments."
And for once, I didn't argue. Just sat there, eating the light breakfast she made. Then back to the room, like she ordered.
Half an hour later, she walked in with a small bottle of olive oil.
"Sit on the floor. You're too damn tall, I can't reach you like this."
I chuckled. "You're gonna massage your hubby?"
"Don't tease me, Ruby." Her warning tone was sharp. But I obeyed. Cross-legged on the carpet, head tilted back, waiting.
The moment her palms touched my scalp, warmth spread through me. Her fingers worked slow circles, gentle and steady, easing every knot in my skull. My breath came heavy, a low growl rumbling in my throat. She hummed softly while she worked, and for the first time in days, I felt… calm.
Neck, shoulders, biceps—she moved with care, melting away the ache.
"So relaxing," I sighed.
She only hummed, but didn't stop.
I caught her wrist mid-motion, lifted her palm, and kissed it. Silent apology.
One kiss turned into two, then more. Her wrist. Her arm. Her shoulder. A playful nip that made her gasp.
"Ruby—" she breathed, voice breaking against my lips as I finally kissed her.
"What's wrong?" I whispered, lips brushing hers.
Her fingers gripped my shoulders tight, as if she'd fall without me. And then, she kissed me back. Fierce. Hungry. Needing me just as bad.
But then she pulled away, panting. "Enough. You're sick. Rest."
She took my hands—smaller than mine but strong—and tried to guide me to bed. And yeah, I let her. I lay down, closing my eyes, letting her think she'd won.
"Sure, sure, wife," I murmured.
She stood there for a second, just watching me. About to leave.
That's when I caught her wrist. Yanked her down, rolled her into my side like she belonged there.
"Ruby!" she yelped, struggling. "I'll kill you. You're sick and still strong enough to hold me?!"
I only grinned, tightening my grip. Not enough to hurt her, just enough to tell her: you're not leaving me tonight.
Her protests died against my chest, and all I could think was—this is where she belongs.
---
A few days later, I was finally feeling well again—all thanks to my wife. So, I went back to the company, drowning myself in work like usual.
I was halfway through some files when Adam stepped into my office. He looked… nervous. That was rare. He never came in unless it was serious.
"Well… Ruby," he started, voice stiff, almost stalling.
I lifted my gaze from my laptop, resting my chin lazily against my hands. "You won't get mad if I tell you something, right?"
My brow arched. "Speak, Adam. Speak before I kill you."
He chuckled, but it was the kind of laugh you let out when you're standing too close to fire. His hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing, stretching, trying to find words.
"I found out something," he sighed, shoulders dropping heavy.
"Then say it."
He finally met my eyes, and that was when I knew it wasn't going to be something I liked.
"Andrew. He… proposed to Aveline. Back before your fight. Before she went to Mireline."
Silence. Just silence in the room.
Then I stood. The chair behind me crashed to the ground, the echo sharp against the glass walls. "He did what?"
Adam didn't flinch. He knew me too well by now. "I'm not lying, Ruby. I wouldn't joke about this."
I could feel my blood surging, rising so fast I could barely think. Heat roared through me like a storm. My hand went to the gun at my desk, fingers curling around it, ready to end something right then and there.
"Ruby," Adam's voice cut in, firm. "Don't. Listen to me. Aveline's already mad at you. Don't make this worse. Don't do something you can't take back."
But I wasn't listening. My jaw clenched, the rage twisting in me like a blade. I turned, slammed my fist into the wall so hard the plaster cracked. My gun went flying across the room as I threw it, and the chair that had fallen was kicked against the floor again, scraping loud and ugly. A vase went crashing against the glass window—shards shattering, raining like sharp stars onto the ground.
Before I could reach for something else—someone else—Adam grabbed me, pinning my hands, holding me steady with all his strength.
"Enough, Ruby!" he barked. "Enough before you burn the whole damn place down."
My chest was heaving, breaths jagged, fury burning so hot I thought my veins would burst. All I could see was Andrew's face. All I could hear was the word proposed.
And all I could think was—how dare he.
---
---
"Adam, let me go!" I barked, my voice sharp enough to cut glass, but his grip was firm, steady, like a wall made of loyalty. He didn't budge, not even when my chest heaved with anger, not even when I struggled like a wild animal. A few minutes passed—minutes that felt like hours—before the fire in me dulled into embers. I stilled. But the fury? It was still alive, burning deep. Andrew's name was seared into my skull like poison.
When Adam finally released me, I stormed toward the villa, my footsteps echoing like thunder in the empty hallway.
And then I saw her.
Aveline. She was dancing in the hallway—spinning lightly, barefoot, her dress flowing as if she belonged to another world. She hadn't noticed me yet, too caught in her own rhythm, her own fragile moment of peace.
I didn't stop. I couldn't. My chest felt like it would cave in if I did. I marched straight past her, straight to my room, and slammed the door with all the strength left in me. The sound cracked through the silence of the villa, and I knew—without even seeing her—that she had flinched. She always did. I knew her body like I knew my own scars.
Moments later, the door creaked open. Soft footsteps. I didn't turn. My back was facing her, my fists clenched at my sides. The hand I had injured back when she was gone was still wrapped in fresh white bandages.
She came closer, hesitating, like she was approaching a beast cornered in a cage. Then, slowly—so carefully I almost couldn't feel it—her fingers brushed against my bandaged hand. Her touch was feather-light, trembling, like she feared I'd pull away.
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Ruby… you're so mad. Why?"
I closed my eyes. Hard. Like if I shut them tight enough, I could cage the rage boiling inside me. My chest rose, sharp and ragged, and I exhaled a breath that sounded like it was dragged through fire. I didn't look at her. I couldn't.
"Aveline," I muttered, my voice low and dangerous, "did Andrew propose to you?"
The silence that followed was louder than any scream.
I felt her freeze. The air shifted—like the whole world paused just for that second. She couldn't hide it. She didn't even try.
Her breath hitched, and I felt her step forward, until she was standing in front of me. That's when I snapped. My hand slammed against the window beside her head with a deafening crack, my other hand landing by her waist, caging her in. She flinched, eyes squeezed shut so tight it looked like she was bracing for impact. The fear in her body radiated into me, searing, cutting.
Her voice cracked when it finally came.
"He… he did propose to me. But I rejected him, Ruby. I swear."
Her words trembled, shattered at the edges. But it didn't matter. The rage in me had already bloomed too far, too wide.
"That's not the point, Aveline Sun," I hissed, my breath ghosting across her cheek. "He dared. He dared to propose to you. And I'll kill him in front of you."
Her eyes shot open, wide, her pupils blown with terror. I could see it all—the fear carved into her face, the way her body shook beneath my shadow. Yet even trembling, even breaking, she still reached for me. One hand clung desperately to my arm, the other rose shakily to rest against my neck. Her touch was so fragile, as if she was trying to tether me back to her, to reality.
"No," she whispered, desperate, pleading. "You won't do anything like that, Ruby. Please."
The word please cracked something in me.
I straightened, chest tight, jaw locked. Without another word, without daring to look at her face, I pulled myself back. My feet carried me away, my hand falling heavy to my side. I left the room before I did something I couldn't take back, leaving her trembling behind me in silence.
But her "please" haunted every step I took.