Page 103 of My Ruthless Husband

“I have to stop.”

“Why?” It comes out as a whine.

“Because if I don’t, every kiss would end with you flat on your back and we both know exactly what that means.”

I’m too stunned to speak.

Damian clasps my hand. “Come let’s feed you.”

I pull at it to stop him. “Are we good?”

He turns his head to look at me. His eyes aren’t cold anymore. “Yes.”

“Don’t ever talk about breaking up.”

He comes back then kisses my forehead. “I won’t. I’ll never let you go now, not even if you beg, angel.”

Later that night, when I casually ask about his morning meeting, he replies with a nonchalant, “It fell through.” I wanted to ask more about it because Damian rarely faces setbacks. He is always on top of things. So I wanted to know why he lost that deal, but I sense no visible distress in his tone.

I attempted to address the incident in the home office but he brushed it off, saying he was preoccupied with work and took it out on me. He apologized for it and promised to never let his professional life affect us.

It wasn’t his cold demeanor that unsettled me—it was the crippling fear of him leaving me. But as I walked out of the mansion, his vow to never let me go wrapped around me like a shield, calming my nerves and making me feel more connected to him than ever.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Present

It’s been three days since Damian left for Dubai. Two days since I began volunteering at the community center. And in those two days, I’ve found I no longer need sleeping pills.

I have struggled with insomnia. And it is directly linked to Damian.

It all began in the early days of our marriage. The times when his business trips turned our bed into a cold, empty space. I was already grieving the loss of my relationship with my father. I remember being so scared and so alone. And Damian wasn’t there either.

When I needed him the most, he just wasn’t there. The mansion, the place I once called my safe haven turned into a haunted house. The silence felt louder, and the ache of missing him echoed in every tick of the clock.

Each night without him was a struggle, and sleep slipped away like a fleeting promise.

The longer he stayed away, the more desperate I became. I counted the hours until his return, craving the warmth of his body to fill the emptiness. Because he wasn’t just the cause of my restless nights; he was also the cure.

The moment I had him back, I slept like a baby. His heartbeat was my lullaby. It was in his arms that my mind used to effortlessly fall into a soothing silence. The constant riot of thoughts didn’t pester me when he was with me. But then before I could settle, he used to leave again. And the cycle continued. That’s how I began relying on sleeping pills.

But I noticed something different this time around.

When he left unannounced three days ago, fear gripped me because I knew sleep would turn its back on me again.

Yet, to my astonishment, it wasn’t the case. The history didn’t repeat itself because sleep, rather than snubbing me, embraced me in its comforting arms.

This was possible because of my newfound solace. Volunteering at the community center. Engaging in this purposeful work gave my restless mind something to hold onto, a distraction from the chaos that used to torment me during the lonely nights.

Damian’s back to his old ways, completely ignoring me. He hasn’t bothered calling once. I know he’s getting all the updates he needs through Vicky. It’s clear he doesn’t feel the need to reach out when he has everything he wants to know without doing so.

In the past, his silence would have torn through the fragile walls of my confidence. Each moment without his call would have been a stab, a confirmation of my fears that I was slipping away from his thoughts.

The absence of his words would have echoed louder than any spoken reassurance, leaving me drowning in self-doubt yet again.

It still hurts. I won’t lie. I’m not equipped with a reset button for emotions to just up and erase all the feelings with a single click and move on. It hurts and it will continue to hurt for a while. But because I have something new to focus on, his neglect doesn’t carry the same weight.

The indifference that once shook the foundation of my self-worth, now only managed to hurt me to a degree that I was able to handle.

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