[BL] A Marriage Ruled by Family, Saved by Desire-Chapter 34: A Marriage on Trial

~Alistair’s POV~

She paused, her tone turning firm yet maternal. "Go back to your room, Alis. Don’t sleep apart. Go back, sit down with your husband, and talk until there are no more secrets. Show his mother that your bond isn’t a thread she can just snip away. Make it an iron chain. Be patient. Confirm the truth with your own eyes, not through the lens of your anger."

I wiped my face, her words settling into my chest. "You think I should go back?"

"I think you should fight for your home," she said. "Don’t let a woman like that define your happiness. Go take care of your marriage with patience, my son. Love is work, and right now, it’s your turn to do the work."

"Okay, Mom," I murmured, feeling a spark of resolve return to my heart. "Thank you so much."

"You are welcome, son. I love you."

After she ended the call, the silence of the guest room didn’t feel quite so heavy. I stayed on the edge of the bed for a few more minutes, breathing through the lingering ache in my chest. She was right. Leaving would be easy, it was the coward’s exit. But staying and fighting for the truth, even when it hurt, was the only way to truly win.

His mother wanted me gone. She wanted me to tuck my tail and run, to clear the way for Sarah to take my place. Staying in this room would have been handing her exactly what she wanted.

I stood, smoothed my robe, and wiped the last of the dampness from my cheeks. Taking a deep breath, I centered myself and stepped back into the cold, dark hallway.

When I reached our bedroom door, I didn’t hesitate. I turned the handle and stepped inside.

Alex hadn’t moved. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the headboard with a pillow clutched to his stomach like a shield. His hands rested limply on it, trembling. He looked at me, eyes swollen and raw from crying, but said nothing. He looked like a man waiting for a sentence.

I stepped closer, stopping just a few feet away. My eyes locked on his, the silence stretching, heavy and unbearable. Then I let out a ragged sigh, and everything came spilling out the anger, the hurt, the exhaustion I’d been holding at bay. I didn’t hold anything back.

"You knew exactly who your mother was, Alex!" I shouted, my voice trembling with the weight of my frustration. "You’ve lived with her poison your whole life, yet you still chose to walk right into her trap. You lied to me for days. You let me doubt my own mind while you played these games with her and Sarah. Do you have any idea how it feels to realize my husband would rather hide in a web of lies than trust me with the truth?"

Alex didn’t interrupt. He sat there and took every word, his head bowed, only speaking to whisper a broken "I’m sorry" whenever I paused for breath. When my voice finally failed me and I fell silent, I sank onto the edge of the bed, physically drained.

Alex moved then, sliding closer until he was within reach. "I am so sorry, Alis," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I was just trying to protect us. I thought I could handle her. I thought I could keep the filth away from our home."

"You should have told me," I said, my eyes fixed on the wall. "The moment any of this happened, you could have trusted me, told me the truth before she started threatening you. You should have told me, Alex."

"I know," he choked out. "I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry."

I turned to him, my gaze hard and cold. "Listen carefully, Alex. We will find out the truth. We will dig until we know exactly what happened that night. But hear me now, if it turns out you actually slept with her, if you let her into our marriage like that, you need to be ready for the consequences. I am done with your mother’s drama. If she’s willing to go this far already, the worst is still ahead and I don’t know if I have the strength for more. I hope this really is the truth, Alex, because if it’s not..."

I didn’t wait for a reply. I turned my back to him and drew the covers around my shoulders. Lying there in the dark, I could feel his gaze pressing down on me. He said nothing, remaining a silent, haunted presence in the shadows, while I closed my eyes, chasing a sleep that stubbornly refused to come.

When I woke the next morning, the space beside me was empty and cold. Alex was gone. I sat up, the weight of last night pressing down on me, my thoughts a jumbled mess. I showered and dressed in silence, moving almost on autopilot. By the time I made it downstairs, he wasn’t in the living room. Instead, I found him in the dining area, carefully arranging the table and placing breakfast with the maid’s assistance, every movement precise and deliberate.

The moment he saw me, his expression tightened, a flicker of hope mixed with anxiety crossing his features. "Good morning, babe," he said, his voice cautious.

He pulled out my chair, gesturing for me to sit. I sat down without a word. The maid stayed back, sensing the frost in the air. In the past, I would have praised his effort, kissed his cheek, and told him how delicious everything looked. Today, I just picked up my fork. We ate in a stifling, heavy silence, the only sound the clink of silverware against porcelain.

The second I finished, I stood up. I didn’t thank him. I didn’t linger. I walked straight to the living room, sank into the sofa, and began scrolling through my phone, losing myself in the digital world to avoid the real one.

After a few moments, I felt the sofa shift as Alex eased down beside me. He stayed quiet at first, his presence heavy and tense. "Alis... I’m so sorry," he said, his voice barely above a murmur. "About everything. Please... Talk to me."

I didn’t look up. I didn’t even blink. I just kept staring at my screen, my thumb rhythmically swiping past images I wasn’t even seeing.

The rest of the day dragged on in a torturous rhythm. Alex moved like a ghost through the house silent, tense, and desperate for any sign of my attention. Whenever he tried to speak, I responded with nothing more than short, clipped answers. My mind raced like a war room, planning where to start unraveling the truth and bracing for how much of it I could bear.

When night fell, I slipped into bed and positioned a long, firm pillow across the center of the mattress a clear barrier between us. I didn’t say goodnight. I didn’t glance at him. I simply turned my back to the space dividing us and closed my eyes.

For the next two days, the house felt like a frozen battlefield. I offered him nothing, no touch, no lingering looks, no soft words. I was a stranger under his roof. Alex tried to reach me the only way he knew how: he cooked every meal himself, setting them before me like fragile peace offerings. I ate, but the flavors never reached me, and I never thanked him.

The silence was deafening, a constant reminder that until the truth came to light, there was no "us" left to save.

*****

The next evening, I perched alone on the bedroom balcony, the cool night air nipping at my skin. I nursed a drink, my gaze lost in the darkness, when my phone buzzed against the table. My chest tightened at the sight of the caller ID: Alex’s mother.

I stared at the screen, torn between flinging the phone over the railing and heeding my mother’s counsel to stay calm. Slowly, I answered.

After the initial greeting, she wasted no time getting to the point. Her voice was smooth, chillingly polite. "Don’t forget, Alis," she said. "I expect you here tomorrow. We have much to discuss regarding Alex’s future."

I wanted to scream, to tell her to stay away from my husband and my home, but I forced the anger down, keeping it cold and controlled. I still needed the truth. The silence stretched, heavy and agonizing, before I finally spoke.

"I’ll be there, Mom," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "I haven’t forgotten."

After the call ended, I stayed there for a long time, the cold condensation from my glass sliding down onto my fingers. I was done staying silent. It was time to act.

I picked up my phone and sent a short, blunt text to Alex, who was only a few feet away inside the bedroom.

[Come out here. Let’s talk.]

It didn’t take five seconds for the glass door to slide open. Alex stepped onto the balcony, his eyes wide, almost panicked. He looked awful. The past few days of silence had worn him down, leaving dark shadows beneath his eyes and sharp lines of exhaustion across his face. It was obvious he hadn’t been sleeping.

"Sit down," I commanded, gesturing to the chair across from me.

He sat immediately...