Chapter 9: His Strange Characters

ALMA

I kicked my legs in the air, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst. Sebastian had called me beautiful last night. And… My picture was on his phone. Not Victoria’s. But mine. A shaky laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

'Alma, get a grip,' I muttered, but my fingers were already tugging at the hem of my shirt, my body vibrating with a heat I couldn’t name.

I got up and walked toward the mirror, eyes fixed on my reflection. My pulse quickened as I traced the curve of my jaw, the slope of my cheeks. My nails caught my attention—polished and perfect—and I bent my fingers, marveling at them like they were someone else’s. My reflection glanced back at me, and for a second, I hardly recognized the girl grinning so stupidly at herself.

A sudden knock shattered the moment. I shut my eyes, a sharp pulse of frustration running through me, as I already knew who it was.

I walked to the door and clicked it open.

Luis froze, his eyes wide, mouth slightly parted, as if the sight of me had knocked the breath from him. He blinked rapidly, then dramatically wiped at his eyes like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

I let out a slow, amused scoff; he should get ready to explore the new part of me.

“Wow… Alma, I can’t believe this. You look like—gosh—an angel,” he stammered, eyes wide, trying to take it all in.

I nodded slowly, letting a faint smirk tug at my lips, before rolling my eyes. Of course, not like your red-haired mistress,

“What’s the problem?” I asked, already guessing why he had shown up—his breakfast, obviously.

He blinked, clearing his throat, shifting on his feet like a child caught off guard. “Hmm…no breakfast today,” he murmured, his voice soft and uncertain. “And…uh…I noticed that my clothes haven’t been washed.”

I slowly raised my hands, letting him see my neatly manicured fingers. His mouth dropped open, eyes wide, and he spun around, running his hands through his perfectly styled brown hair like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Before I could blink, he rushed forward, grabbing my hands between his. “I love this, Alma… it’s so beautiful,” he said, voice bright with admiration.

A small, victorious smile tugged at my lips. Sebastian had been right—I needed to focus on myself, on my appearance. I was a wife, not just some mother. Talking of Mother, Lady Flores didn’t even care about Luis the way I do.

“So… I think a maid would work better. I can’t do these things anymore,” I said, slowly pulling my hands from his.

He blinked, confusion flickering across his face. His gaze wandered around the room before snapping back to me, sharp and searching.

“What do you mean by that? Alma What’s going on with you these days? Are you…angry about something?” he asked softly, his voice filled with that irritating innocence.

His face made something twist in my chest. Gosh, I hated when he played those pity cards. If I hadn’t seen him thrusting on that red-haired woman that night, I might still be fooled, thinking he was all naive.

“There’s nothing wrong with me, Luis. I’ve just…been tired these past few days,” I lied, forcing the words out softly.

He searched my face, his eyes gentle, before letting out a quiet sigh. “I’ll talk to Mother so we can visit your father this weekend,” he said.

My heart sank. Without thinking, I threw my arms around him, holding him tight. It had been months since I’d seen my father. I hadn’t even dared ask Lady Flores—afraid of her cruel refusal. And now… Luis was offering without me even asking.

He tightened his arms around me, his hands roamed—and then stopped at my ass. Before I could even process it, he grabbed it tight. A sharp gasp escaped me, and I jerked back immediately.

Our eyes locked, shock reflected in both our faces.

“What’s wrong, Alma? I’m your husband, remember?” His expression shifted back into that disturbingly innocent mode.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my racing thoughts, but he wasn’t finished. His voice dropped, low and careful, as if he wants each word to penetrate into my soul. “I know you’re doing all this to get my attention… but I’ll be honest. You’ve done the right thing. And now… I want our relationship to tighten so we can explore…our sexual preferences.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked quickly, confusion creeping into my voice. Exploring our sexual preferences? What did that even mean?

He sighed, rubbing his eyes, and I felt a flicker of irritation. What the heck—he should know I’m no longer the Alma who always bends over backward for his so-called health conditions.

I couldn’t help but remember the first six months of our marriage: when Lady Flores scolded me to “try harder,” and he had cried after we returned, whispering that he wished he could do better. I had held him that day, hugging him, trying to calm him down.

And now…gosh, I couldn’t believe it. Those tears, that vulnerability—it had all been fake. Luis has been becoming a stranger to me these past few weeks, gradually exposing strange characters.

I watched him silently, waiting for whatever he wanted to say next.

“I know you might feel bad… but we can still have a child in less than three months. But first…there’s something I should tell you,” he said, his voice tinged with guilt. “I… I like it when a girl… sucks my dick. It usually… arouses me.”

My skin crawled at his words. Damn liar. He never wanted a child with me. That was obvious. He should drop the act. And as I’d said before, he needed to be treated before I’d even think of doing anything with him.

“Remember,” I said, my voice low and sharp, “I’m ovulating next week. You need to get yourself treated.”

He frowned, pressing a hand to his jaw, suspicion flickering across his face. “Why are you insisting on this? I’m already clean,” he said, eyes scanning mine like he was searching for a glimpse of the truth.

Fear crept in, but I forced my face to be calm. There was no way I would let him know I knew about his mistress—everything would spiral out of control if he suspected.

I took a deep breath, my eyes fixed on his. “Because I always go for my check-ups every month… but you don’t,” I pressed, keeping my tone steady.

He sighed, his expression casual. “I’m sorry, Alma. Even during the week of your ovulation, I have a business trip to London,” he said, as if it were nothing.

My chest tightened. "But I—"

“We should talk later. I’m late,” he added, cutting me off. Before I could react, he quickly rushed downstairs, grabbed an apple on the dining table, and strode out.

I sighed, slowly stepping inside and shutting the door behind me. I collapsed into the bed and pressed my palms to my face, heart hammering with a wild mix of happiness, fear, and confusion.

Happy I was finally going to see my father. But a nagging thought twisted in my chest: What if I can’t get pregnant before three months?

And yet… I still didn’t want Luis to touch me. I feel so trapped. What am I supposed to do?

My phone buzzed suddenly. I grabbed it up. My heart dropped, Sebastian. I swallowed hard, taking a deep, steadying breath before answering.

“Hello, dear patient. Remember—you have an appointment on Friday,” he whispered, his voice low and professional.

A soft laugh escaped me before I could stop it. I shook my head, warmth creeping up my cheeks at his voice.

“Okay… I’ll be there,” I said, my voice trembling. I hung up quickly, before he could hear just how shaken I was.

I groaned and tossed my phone on the bed. Oh heavens… How am I going to survive all this?

I'm caught between marital obligations, the urgent need to save my father, and… the impossible pull toward my husband’s best friend, "my gynecologist." How am I supposed to get through this without losing myself?