Capítulo 3: END IT
Irene had told Simeon to leave her alone, wanting space, especially since he wouldn't agree to a divorce. Her voice had carried a cold edge as she asked, "Won't you go?" Yet Simeon had stood there in silence, his eyes fixed on her.
His gaze seemed to question her decisions, almost accusing her of making the wrong choice.
Her voice faltered under the weight of his quiet stare. Simeon might have appeared indifferent, but his eyes had always unsettled her, making her feel she couldn't be as willful as she wanted.
He reminded her of a tiger, harmless until provoked. And Irene knew her limits well.
Simeon had eventually slipped his hands into his pockets, his expression unreadable. "This is my room, Irene," he'd said, his voice calm but firm.
"And you were the one clinging to my arms last night after..." He had let the sentence trail off, unwilling to finish. He had known that if he said more, Irene would likely twist his words into a reason to demand a divorce again, and that wasn't what he wanted.
Irene had pouted, her brows furrowing in a way that made her defiance clear. Simeon had stolen a glance at her, quietly afraid she didn't realize just how attractive she was.
"Stop looking at me like that," she'd snapped, disliking how his eyes met hers, always leaving her confused.
She reminded herself that falling in love wasn't her goal. Freedom was the only thing she'd ever wanted.
Simeon, noticing her discomfort, had shifted the topic unintentionally. "Will you shower here?" he'd asked, his eyes trailing over the marks left on her body, "or will you walk down the stairs to your room like that?" His face had remained calm, unreadable.
Though his words had been practical, Irene hadn't taken them kindly. She'd thrown a pillow straight at him.
"Get out, Simeon Kings. Get out," she had said through clenched teeth. "I won't be polite until the day you set me free."
Simeon hadn't seemed offended. Nodding slightly, he looked at her one last time. "Please come down and eat. Don't lock yourself in a room again, hungry."
Irene's eyes had widened at his comment. She'd been stunned. How had he known?
For months, she had hidden her habit of starving herself, grieving over her lack of freedom in their marriage. She'd thought Simeon was cold and indifferent, unaware of her struggles. But this little detail proved he had been paying attention, even when she believed no one else in the house had noticed.
Her heart had skipped a beat at the thought, though she'd forced herself to rationalize it. Simeon was simply a responsible person—it was nothing more than that.
After a moment, she'd nodded. "I'll eat. No one should wait for me. I might come, or I might not."
Her stubbornness wouldn't allow her to give him a direct answer.
Simeon had simply nodded again before leaving, closing the door with a quiet click.
---
Later, Irene had come down the stairs. Her mother-in-law and Simeon's little sister had been sitting at the dining table.
She'd taken a deep breath, steeling herself as she descended, feeling the weight of their eyes. But when she glanced around, she realized no one was paying her any attention except Simeon.
"Please, sit," he'd said, pulling out a chair for her.
Irene had nodded politely, her movements measured. She wouldn't disrespect him in front of his mother. If they'd been alone, she wouldn't have acknowledged his gesture at all.
The room had been quiet despite being full of people.
Everyone had eaten in silence until Simeon's sister had stood up, breaking the tension. "Thanks, Mom. I'm done. Goodbye, bro," she'd said, hugging her mother and Simeon before leaving.
Irene had watched the family dynamic unfold. Simeon's family seemed genuinely loving, and she'd thought to herself that they were good people. Their mistake had simply been marrying her to their son.
Simeon had called her name softly. "Irene?"
She had looked at him, acknowledging him without speaking. He had seemed ready to say something, but his phone had rung, interrupting the moment.
His assistant Jason's worried voice had come through the line. "Boss, there's a big problem. It's about Irene."
Simeon had nodded grimly. "Sure thing. I'll be there."
With that, he had walked away, leaving the table without so much as a goodbye to his mother—or to her.
"Wow," Irene had muttered under her breath. "Back to being cold and indifferent. Yesterday was just an illusion."
Though she'd kept her face neutral, her mother-in-law had noticed her subtle reactions. Mrs. Kings had always been observant.
Finally, she'd broken the silence. "My dear, is everything going well between you and my son?"
Irene had stiffened, caught off guard.
Mrs. Kings had smiled warmly but continued. "I've noticed you two seem closer lately. And I couldn't help but spot that little mark on your neck. Was it my son who gave you that hickey? Have you finally decided to take each other as true husband and wife?"
Panic had surged through Irene. Her mind had raced. How could she explain the hickey wasn't from Simeon but from someone else?
She'd briefly considered telling the truth, hoping it might push her mother-in-law to encourage Simeon to divorce her. But as her gaze had met Mrs. Kings's, she'd thought better of it.
Mrs. Kings might appear calm, but Irene knew she wouldn't take such news lightly.
"Irene?" Mrs. Kings had prompted again, her tone gentle but probing. "Are you alright? Did my son work you out that much last night?"
The words had made Irene's heart leap. Guilt filled her chest as she struggled to find a response, her thoughts spiraling.
Would Simeon be offended if she lied and claimed the hickey was his?
Mrs. Kings had grown more insistent. "What's wrong with you? What are you thinking about so deeply? You've been lost in your thoughts!" Her voice had risen slightly, revealing her growing impatience.
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