Chapter 312: _ The Hurricane I Married
Half an hour after I broke down in tears, I was wrapped in a velvet robe, lying across the velvet chaise in my private dressing room while Lila brought over my comfiest slippers and Carmen set up an array of comfort remedies like I was recovering from a war wound.
"I’ll warm the lavender eye masks," Lila said solemnly, like she was preparing armor.
"And I’ll fetch the emergency wine bottle. The one we hide behind the sewing kit," Carmen added.
I let them. I let them fuss and arrange pillows and light candles that smelled like expensive orchards. I let them drag the speaker over and play music low enough not to disturb the rest of the estate, but loud enough to drown my thoughts.
"You think he’ll come knocking?" I asked quietly.
Carmen raised an eyebrow. "Would he dare?"
I laughed again. Bittersweet. "I thought he would. I hoped. But no."
Lila pulled a sequin wrap from the closet. "Then we shall entertain ourselves in the meantime. Try this one, Señora. You’ll look like revenge dressed in couture."
"Let him knock," Carmen said, adjusting the volume. "Let him knock and hear you laughing without him."
They let me wallow for five minutes. Only five.
Because then Carmen straightened and smoothed my hair back with that fire in her eyes. "No. You will not end this night with tears, mi niña. If the wolf forgets your worth, remind him."
Lila put down the sequin wrap.
"Put this on. We’re doing this. You’re not going to beg for love. You’re going to demand it."
"I..." I was stuttering, my voice small. "What if he doesn’t come back?"
"Then you stand in that doorway in red lace," Carmen said, "and you decide when the story changes."
I chuckled. The sting was still there. But their strength... it was contagious. I stood. Lila handed me the thong and my silk robe. Carmen handed me a little perfume bottle.
"His favorite. Behind the ears. On the thighs."
They began fixing my hair as if I were heading to war.
And in a way, I was. Not to seduce him. But to show him that I was still me. And I wasn’t going down quietly.
I closed my eyes and leaned back when they were done. The wine was warm in my belly. The music curled in the air like silk. The pain hadn’t vanished, but it had dulled to something quieter. Something bearable.
I had just finished a dramatic sigh—one of those long, indulgent ones that sounded like a telenovela death scene when Carmen and Lila burst out laughing.
"¡Dios mío, Señora! You sounded like the ghost of a betrayed opera singer," Lila cackled, clutching her side.
I rolled my eyes. "I feel like the ghost of a betrayed opera singer."
"You sound like you’ve been wronged in a three-act tragedy," Carmen said, wiping a tear. "All that’s missing is the sword and a violin."
I groaned and threw a pillow at her, missing on purpose. She was already ducking before it even left my hand.
We were ridiculous. Sitting in my dressing room like witches around a cauldron of broken dreams and expensive skincare. Carmen had just poured us the third glass of "emergency wine," and Lila had found some honey-covered almonds that she claimed were "aphrodisiacal," but honestly tasted like regret.
But it worked. I laughed. I laughed so hard I felt my ribs complain.
And then...
A bang.
It wasn’t a polite knock or a tap. It was a bang at the door. The laughter died in our throats like someone had pressed mute.
Carmen and Lila froze. I blinked, heart skipping.
Then the door flew open, slamming against the wall, and in stormed the hurricane I’d married.
Axel.
In sweatpants and a tight black shirt, hair tousled like he’d been tearing at it, eyes bloodshot and jaw clenched.
"Is there something I should know?" he asked, voice sharp enough to cut bone.
I stood up slowly, wine glass still in hand. "What are you talking about?"
He looked around the room. "What’s so funny that it had you giggling like a schoolgirl at midnight? Who’s here?"
"What?"
"Don’t play innocent," he barked, stepping closer. "Are you with someone?"
WHAT THE HELL?
I stared hard... Like he’d just asked if I was hiding a marching band under my robe.
"I—what?! What?! Are you implying I’m with a man?
"He looked between Carmen and Lila as if one of them might be in disguise. Carmen crossed her arms. Lila raised an eyebrow so high it almost reached the goddess.
"They’re my maids," I barked, my voice rising, "or did you forget that too?"
He didn’t answer. Just turned to them and said, low and grim, "Leave us."
Lila looked at me like she was ready to throw down.
Carmen, however, just patted my shoulder, whispered, "If he says anything wicked, scream," and marched out like she was already sharpening a rolling pin.
She whispered it but knew damn well he’d hear her. That was how bold Carmen was. Too bold for a maid.
Then it was just Axel and I.
The music was still playing. It was some sad, instrumental version of a romantic ballad—and the candles flickered dramatically, like they too knew we were seconds away from an emotional explosion.
I put the wine glass down, turned, and walked slowly to him.
"Why," I asked, "would you immediately assume I was with a man?"
He didn’t meet my eyes. "Don’t twist my words."
I folded my arms. "I didn’t twist anything. You came storming in here like some jealous ex, not my husband, and demanded to know if I had company. Male company."
He let out a sharp exhale. "I was speaking from experience."
That stopped me cold. Experience he said?
What sort of crazy experience could make a married man accuse his wife of such? What...
... oh wait. I hope it wasn’t what I was currently thinking?
My heart combusted, and not in a romantic way. "What experience, Axel?"