Chapter Two
Life returned to its usual rhythm after Juliet was discharged from the hospital.
But "usual" did not mean easy.
The doctor had advised that she rest for several weeks. Her body had endured serious trauma, and the miscarriage had weakened her further. She needed proper care, nutrition, and most importantly, peace.
Unfortunately, peace was the one thing Juliet could never find in her husband's house.
Only three days after returning home, she was already back in the kitchen.
The morning sun had barely risen when Juliet slowly dragged herself out of bed. Every movement reminded her that her body was still healing. The bruises from Robbinson's belt had not yet faded. Her back ached whenever she bent forward, and her head still felt heavy.
But rest was not an option.
Who would cook for Robbinson?
Who would clean the house?
Who would do the laundry?
Juliet sighed quietly as she tied a scarf around her head and stepped into the kitchen.
Despite everything she had suffered, she still placed her husband first. That was the life she had grown used to. Years of enduring his anger had trained her to move carefully around him, always trying to avoid anything that might trigger another violent outburst.
She washed the dishes from the previous night, swept the floor, and began preparing breakfast.
The aroma of fried eggs and toasted bread slowly filled the kitchen.
Juliet paused for a moment, holding the edge of the table as dizziness washed over her. Her body was clearly not ready for this level of activity.
But she forced herself to continue.
If Robbinson woke up and food wasn't ready, he would be furious.
After finishing breakfast, she carried the tray to the dining table and quietly arranged everything neatly.
Moments later, Robbinson walked into the dining room, dressed in a crisp shirt and dark trousers. He looked completely refreshed, as though nothing unusual had happened in the past week.
His eyes briefly scanned the table.
"Good," he muttered.
Juliet stood quietly beside the table, waiting in case he asked for anything.
He didn't look at her.
He didn't ask how she was feeling.
He didn't even acknowledge that she had recently been hospitalized.
To him, everything had returned to normal.
Robbinson ate his breakfast without saying a word. When he finished, he grabbed his car keys and headed for the door.
"I'll be back later," he said casually.
Juliet nodded silently.
The front door closed behind him.
Once his car engine faded into the distance, Juliet slowly sank into a chair.
Her hands trembled slightly as exhaustion caught up with her.
But Robbinson, meanwhile, had other plans for the day.
Instead of heading to work, he drove across town to meet Lily.
Lily was everything Juliet was not.
She was tall, confident, and strikingly beautiful. Her figure turned heads whenever she walked into a room. Her long hair framed a face that always carried a playful, seductive smile.
Robbinson had been seeing her for several months now.
And unlike Juliet, Lily demanded nothing from him.
She lived in a stylish apartment decorated with expensive furniture and modern designs. The space smelled faintly of luxury perfume and scented candles.
When Robbinson knocked on the door, Lily opened it with a wide grin.
"Well, look who finally decided to show up," she teased, stepping aside to let him in.
She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms playfully.
"You left your witch wife at home already?" Lily asked with a mischievous smile.
Robbinson scoffed as he walked inside.
"Don't even mention her," he replied dismissively.
Lily raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? Trouble again?"
Robbinson dropped onto the couch and stretched his arms across the backrest.
"I'm no longer attracted to her," he said bluntly. "Her presence irritates me."
Lily's smile slowly widened.
"And the only person who gives me joy now," Robbinson continued, looking directly at her, "is you."
Those words pleased Lily more than she cared to admit.
She flipped her hair over her shoulder and walked closer, her steps slow and confident.
"Well… I guess that's good news for me," she said with a stylish smile.
Robbinson watched her admiringly.
Unlike Juliet, Lily always looked flawless. Her nails were perfectly manicured, her makeup carefully done, and her clothes always fashionable.
She represented the exciting life Robbinson believed he deserved.
Juliet, on the other hand, had become nothing more than a responsibility.
"I'm hungry," Robbinson said after a while, placing a hand over his stomach.
Lily laughed softly.
"Well, don't look at me," she said playfully. "I don't know how to cook."
Robbinson chuckled.
"Then let's order something."
"That sounds perfect," Lily agreed immediately.
She grabbed her phone and scrolled through a food delivery app before placing an order.
Within minutes, they were both lounging comfortably on the couch while waiting for the food to arrive.
Lily stretched lazily across the sofa.
Truthfully, she didn't like doing much of anything.
Cooking was out of the question.
Cleaning bored her.
Even basic household chores felt like too much effort.
That was why she had tried hiring several maids before. But none of them lasted very long. Lily was impatient and demanding, often firing them after only a few weeks.
Eventually she stopped trying altogether.
Now she simply cleaned the apartment once a week—just enough to keep it from looking completely messy.
And Robbinson didn't mind.
In fact, he preferred it this way.
Spending time with Lily felt like an escape from the responsibilities waiting for him at home.
Soon, the doorbell rang.
Their food had arrived.
Robbinson paid the delivery driver and carried the bags inside.
The smell of grilled chicken and spicy noodles quickly filled the apartment.
Lily clapped her hands excitedly.
"Finally! I'm starving."
They sat together at the small dining table and began eating.
Lily talked animatedly about random things—shopping, parties, and a new dress she wanted to buy.
Robbinson listened, occasionally laughing.
For a moment, he felt relaxed.
Meanwhile, miles away, Juliet was still at home.
She had finished washing the laundry and was now mopping the floor slowly, carefully avoiding sudden movements that might worsen her pain.
Sweat rolled down her face as she worked.
Her body begged for rest.
But she kept going.
Because in her mind, being a good wife meant enduring everything.
Even if it meant breaking herself piece by piece.
As the afternoon sun filtered through the windows, Juliet paused for a moment and placed a hand over her stomach.
A quiet sadness crossed her face.
Something inside her told her that life could not continue this way forever.
And somewhere in the distance, fate was slowly preparing the moment when everything would finally change.