Irene's POV
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the book in my lap without really seeing the words. They swam together, meaningless black marks on white paper, because my mind was somewhere else entirely.
Specifically, it was trying to figure out where the hell my husband had disappeared to again.
Not that Yin and I were close. We weren't. We'd barely spoken more than a few sentences to each other since this whole arranged marriage disaster began. But at least before his mother showed up, he'd been... present. Cold, yes. Distant, absolutely. But occasionally funny in that dry, sarcastic way that caught me off guard and made me forget for half a second that I was trapped in a marriage I didn't want.
Now? Nothing. He spent all his time with his mother, and Juniper—who used to bring me tea and gossip about the household staff—had also made herself scarce. It was like everyone had collectively decided I wasn't worth their time anymore.
