chapter 3
We’ve been married for three years, always sleeping in separate rooms.
Michael has diabetes, and I had no idea.
Our marriage was arranged by our families. The Sullivan family wanted the new project discovered by the Johnson family, and the Johnson family wanted the Sullivan family’s money.
On our wedding night, Michael made three rules.
First, we would sleep in separate rooms.
Second, the Sullivan and Johnson groups would share resources.
Third was left for me to decide.
I never figured out what to ask for, so the third rule remained blank.
I’d heard that Michael had a childhood sweetheart, so when he suggested separate rooms, I wasn’t surprised. For three years after our marriage, Michael remained cold toward me, but he was constantly entangled with his childhood friend through various work situations.
The Johnson family marrying into the Sullivan family was already considered marrying up. Everyone in our social circle said that once the collaboration between our families ended, Michael would divorce me. Everyone was waiting to see me abandoned by the Sullivan family.
Little did they know.
During these three years, I’ve used Michael’s connections to take the Johnson Group several steps forward. Soon, Johnson Group became the second largest group in South City after Sullivan Group.
The love that Michael Sullivan couldn’t give me meant nothing to me.
Or at least, that was what I told myself.
But now I’ve heard Michael’s thoughts. It seems he secretly developed feelings for me behind his cold facade.
I didn’t sleep that night.
After dinner, Michael had quietly eaten the too-sweet pork belly without a single complaint. Even when his eyes watered slightly, he just took another spoonful and told me, “It’s good.”
Then, after washing his hands and helping me dry the dishes, he returned to his room like nothing had happened.
But I could hear his thoughts trailing long after his footsteps disappeared down the hall.
She seemed happy tonight. I hope I didn’t ruin it by walking away too quickly. Should I have stayed longer? Maybe asked about her day? Should I text her now? No… too desperate. Tomorrow. I’ll find something better to say tomorrow.
Michael was awkward.
A grown man in his thirties, the CEO of Sullivan Group, respected across the boardroom, cold and calculating in negotiation, but when it came to affection, he was no more mature than a high schooler with his first crush.
It was both hilarious and devastating.
For three years, I’d told myself that none of this mattered. That my marriage was simply a business transaction sealed with ink and forged signatures, not feelings. I told myself I was fine. I was strong. I didn’t need love.
But now I knew that behind Michael’s frosty exterior was a man who had been slowly, silently falling.
And I’d been too blind to see it.