[BL] A Marriage Ruled by Family, Saved by Desire-Chapter 55: No Distance Between Us

~Alistair’s POV~

Would he look at me with the same coldness I had shown him, realizing I never truly trusted him? Would he lose his love for me because I hadn’t been his anchor when he needed it most?

I leaned in, my breath hitching, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against his lips.

"I hope you understand," I whispered into the dark, my voice breaking. "I was like this because I loved you too much to share you. I was like this because I was terrified of losing you."

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling his heavy, sleeping frame against my chest, and closed my eyes, letting the distant sounds of his mother’s screaming fade into the night.

****

I woke before him, the pale morning light filtering through the curtains, but I had no intention of moving. Instead, I tightened my grip, burying my face in the crook of his neck. The heavy, sharp anger of the day before had been replaced by a quiet, desperate need to be near him, even if he didn’t know it yet.

Alex began to stir, a low groan escaping his lips as the inevitable hangover made its debut. He shifted, trying to roll onto his back, but I went with him, my arms locked around his waist like a human vise. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, breathing steadily to mimic deep sleep.

I felt him freeze. His heart began to thud a little faster against my chest. Slowly, tentatively, he tried to peel my fingers back, but I only let out a soft, sleepy mumble and clung tighter, throwing a leg over his for good measure.

Every time he tried to inch toward the edge of the bed to create some "safe" distance, I simply shimmed along with him. He moved an inch; I moved an inch. He tried to slide upward; I hooked my chin over his shoulder and pulled him back down. I could almost hear the frantic, confused gears turning in his head. Why is he so close? Is he still mad? Does he realize he’s holding me like I’m the last lifeboat on the Titanic?

After a few minutes of this silent tug-of-war, I decided he had suffered enough. I let out a long, dramatic yawn, stretching my limbs and slowly fluttering my eyes open as if I were just surfacing from the deepest slumber of my life.

I looked up, and for a split second, I caught him. He was staring down at me with an expression so raw, so filled with longing and bewilderment, that it nearly broke my heart. His eyes were wide, tracing the line of my jaw as if he were trying to memorize a face he thought he had lost forever.

The moment he realized I was actually awake, he panicked. He snapped his head away so fast I was surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash, staring intently at the wardrobe on the far side of the room as if it were the most fascinating object on earth.

"Good morning," I murmured, my voice husky with sleep.

"Good... morning, baby," he rasped, his back still turned to me, his shoulders hunched as he tried to process the fact that I hadn’t pushed him out of bed the moment I opened my eyes.

I watched him for a moment, a small, secret smile tugging at my lips. He had no idea that the world had changed overnight. He had no idea that the nightmare was ending.

Alex sat up, rubbing his temples with a wince. As the whiskey haze lifted, I watched his features harden. Whatever softness had lingered a moment ago dissolved, replaced by a tight, guarded misery. The memories of our argument, and my coldness, were clearly flooding back. He rose and paced to the far side of the room, carefully avoiding my eyes, as if even a glance might spark the fight all over again.

Just then, a soft knock sounded at the door.

"Sir Alexander, Sir Alistair, breakfast is ready," the maid called from the other side.

Alex didn’t say a word. He went into the bathroom. A few minutes later, he stepped back into the bedroom, water still clinging to his skin. He dressed quickly, his movements efficient and distant.

I watched him from the bed, a sharp spike of panic piercing my chest.

If he goes down there alone, he’ll walk straight into the fallout.

The realization hit me hard, if Alex hears about Sarah’s lies from his mother first, he might not just be hurt. He might be furious. And worse, he might turn that anger on me for ever doubting him.

I had to be there. I couldn’t let him face that den of vipers without me.

As he reached for the doorknob, he muttered, "I’ll head down first. Join me when you’re ready."

"Wait!" I blurted, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. I forced a teasing lilt into my voice, trying to mask the panic clawing up my throat. "Oh, so that’s how it is? You shower without me, and now you’re going to breakfast without me too?"

Alex went still, his hand lingering on the knob. Slowly, he turned back, disbelief widening his eyes as he searched my face, as if trying to decide whether he’d heard me wrong.

He stared at me in a long, weighted silence, like a man waiting for the punchline to a joke that never came.

"Wait for me," I said, softer this time.

The tension in his shoulders dropped an inch. "Okay... baby," he rasped, the endearment sounding hesitant, like he was testing a bridge to see if it would hold his weight.

I reached out, offering my hand in a quiet plea.

For a heartbeat, he hesitated. Then he stepped forward and took it, pulling me gently from the bed. There was no bright, effortless smile, no easy charm to soften the moment. The hurt was still too raw for that.

But his grip was firm. And he didn’t let go right away.

I hurried through my morning routine, splashing cold water on my face and quickly applying a few drops of serum. I dressed with steady hands, and soon, we were ready to leave the room. We weren’t tangled together like we used to be, the air between us was still as fragile as thin glass, but the icy, cavernous distance of the past few days had finally begun to thaw.

We walked side by side, close enough that our shoulders almost brushed, the rhythm of our footsteps echoing through the hallway as we headed downstairs.

When we reached the dining room, Alex’s mother was sitting alone at the head of the table. Sarah was nowhere to be seen. The grand room felt strangely empty, devoid of the smug tension that usually filled it. We greeted her, and she whispered a reply, her voice sounding hollow and drained of its usual bite.

As we sat down, Alex leaned forward, his brow furrowed with genuine concern. "Mom? What’s wrong? You look like you haven’t slept at all."

"It’s nothing, Alex," she said, her gaze fixed on her tea, refusing to meet his eyes.

I played my part perfectly, maintaining a mask of innocent curiosity. "Mom, where’s Sarah? She’s usually right here with you. Is she still sleeping?"

His mother let out a long, weary sigh, her shoulders sagging. "Sarah went back to her parents’ house early this morning. Apparently, her mother isn’t feeling well and needed her."

"Oh, I see," I replied smoothly, taking a sip of juice. "I hope she recovers quickly."

Leaning slightly toward her, I offered a careful, apologetic smile. "I’m sorry we didn’t come back down to talk last night, Mom. Alex and I were both exhausted. Maybe once we’ve finished breakfast, we can have that discussion you wanted?"

She flinched slightly at the mention of the "discussion." "It’s fine, Alistair. Truly. I’m not feeling quite like myself this morning. I think I’ll go back to my room to rest. We can talk... later in the day. Or not at all."

"Are you sure you’re okay?" Alex pressed, half-rising from his chair.

She simply nodded, stood up without another word, and disappeared into the depths of the house. Alex watched her go, his face etched with worry, but the moment she was out of sight, I reached over and gently touched his arm.

"Don’t worry so much, Alex," I said softly. "I think she’s just overstressed with everything that’s been going on."

He didn’t look convinced. Instead, he turned his attention back to me, his voice low. "So... when were you planning to head to your parents’ house? I can drive you there whenever you’re ready to leave."

I opened my mouth to answer, but for a second, the words caught in my throat. I looked at him and saw the man who had been through hell alongside me, even if we were on opposite sides of the flame.

"I’ve changed my mind," I said finally.

Alex blinked, his expression guarded. "Changed your mind? Did you decide to go somewhere else?"

"Yes," I told him, holding his gaze until he couldn’t look away. "I’ve decided to stay. Right here. With my husband."

Alex froze, his fork hovering in mid-air as he stared at me...