"Did you go into my office?" Her voice is eerily calm, each word precisely formed and dripping with ice.
My mouth goes dry. My brain screams at me to lie, to deny everything, but my tongue feels paralyzed. "Uhh... uh..."
Emily drops her briefcase and purse to the floor with a heavy thud. They land forgotten as she strides toward me with purposeful steps, her heels clicking against the hardwood like a countdown to execution.
"Answer me." It's not a request. It's a command, issued with such authority that I physically flinch.
Before I can form a coherent response, her hand shoots out, wrapping around my throat. Her grip is shockingly strong, fingers digging into my flesh with precise pressure. I instinctively grab her wrist, trying to loosen her hold, but it's like trying to bend steel.
"Yes," I gasp, the word barely squeezing past her constricting fingers. "I'm sorry. I'm a terrible husband."
Something flashes in her eyes, disappointment, betrayal, or something darker I can't name. Her grip tightens for one terrifying second, then releases as she shoves me backward.
I stumble, losing my balance completely. My back hits the floor hard enough to knock the wind from my lungs. I stare up at her, shock written across my face as I struggle to process what just happened.
Emily towers over me, her tall frame silhouetted against the ceiling light. For a moment, she looks like a stranger, someone I've never met before.
Dread floods my system as I look up at her. My mind can't place why, but my body knows, every cell in me recognizes the danger standing over me. It's like muscle memory taking over, a primal fear response I can't explain but can't ignore.
"I asked you to do one thing, Charles," Emily says, her voice deadly quiet. "One simple thing."
I scramble backward, trying to get to my feet. My palms slip against the hardwood as I push myself up.
"Emily, I’m sorry…”
"HOW COULD YOU BETRAY THE ONLY THING I ASKED OF YOU, CHARLES?" she screams, her voice shattering the air between us.
Before I can fully stand, she lunges forward. Her hand palms the front of my head, fingers tangling painfully in my hair as she whips my head downward.
I twist as I fall, and instead of hitting the floor, my temple slams into the corner of the wall with a sickening crack.
Pain explodes through my skull. The room spins violently as I crumple to the ground. Warm wetness trickles down the side of my face. I blink, trying to focus through the spinning haze.
Emily's face transforms instantly. The rage vanishes, replaced by pure horror. Her hands fly to her mouth, eyes widening with shock.
"Oh my god," she whispers, her voice suddenly small. "Charles? CHARLES!"
She drops to her knees beside me, hands hovering over my body like she's afraid to touch me. Her eyes fill with tears that spill down her cheeks in messy streams, ruining her perfect makeup.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she sobs, finally reaching for me with trembling hands. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Please, baby, I'm sorry."
Her arms wrap around me, pulling my head to her chest. The world swims in a haze of pain as I feel her body shaking with sobs against mine. Something warm and sticky is spreading across my temple, and I can smell the metallic scent of blood mixing with her expensive perfume.
"I'm so sorry, baby, I'm so sorry," Emily wails, rocking me back and forth. Her fingers stroke my hair, carefully avoiding the wound. "I was just so scared when I saw you'd been in there. I never meant to hurt you."
I try to speak, but my tongue feels too big for my mouth. The room won't stop spinning.
"Why did you make me do this?" she whispers, her voice cracking. "I asked you for one thing, just one boundary. Why couldn't you respect that?" Despite her accusations, her arms tighten around me protectively, contradicting her words. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I overreacted. I just... when I saw you in the office..."
I feel her tears dropping onto my face, mingling with the blood. The contrast is jarring, her anger from moments ago transformed into this desperate tenderness.
"Let me see," she says, gently tilting my head to examine the wound. Her sharp intake of breath tells me it's bad. "Oh god, Charles. I need to get you cleaned up."
I can feel her heartbeat racing, the silk of her blouse now sticking to my skin with my own blood. The room finally stops spinning as I blink hard, trying to clear my vision.
The pain is sharp but localized, probably just a cut rather than anything serious. My fingers reach up tentatively to touch my temple, and Emily intercepts them, squeezing my hand in hers.
"Don't touch it," she whispers, her voice raw. "Let me take care of you."
I'm suddenly struck by something she said during her panicked apologies. She mentioned seeing me in her office. Not suspecting, not guessing, seeing. My stomach drops as realization hits me. There must be cameras. That's how she knew exactly what I'd done.
I don't even want to think about that right now. My brain feels foggy, and opening that particular can of worms right now seems like a terrible idea.
"I think it's just bleeding," I say, trying to sound calmer than I feel. "Head wounds always bleed a lot, right? It probably looks worse than it is."
Emily pulls back slightly, examining my face with tear-streaked eyes. The mascara running down her cheeks makes her look vulnerable in a way I've rarely seen.
"Okay," she says, sniffling and wiping at her face, which only smears the makeup more. "Let's get you to a bathroom."
She helps me to my feet, one arm wrapped firmly around my waist as if afraid I might collapse at any moment. The room tilts briefly when I stand, but steadies after a few deep breaths. Emily guides me toward the master bathroom, her grip never loosening.
"I'm so sorry," she whispers again as we make our slow progress down the hallway. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I would never want to hurt you."
The bathroom lights flick on automatically as we enter, harsh and bright against my throbbing head. Emily sits me down on the closed toilet lid, then immediately starts rummaging through cabinets.
"Where's the first aid kit?" she mutters, frantically opening drawers. "I know it's in here somewhere."
I watch her panic, wondering how many times we've been through this before. The thought sends a chill down my spine.
"Found it!" She pulls out a surprisingly comprehensive medical kit from under the sink.
Emily kneels in front of me, her fingers trembling slightly as she opens an antiseptic wipe. "This might sting," she warns, then gently dabs at the wound.
I wince as the alcohol burns against raw flesh. Emily's face crumples at my reaction.
"I'm sorry," she says again, her voice small. "I'm so, so sorry."
Every touch sends pain radiating through my skull, but I barely notice it anymore. I'm too busy watching Emily's face, the genuine anguish in her eyes, the shake in her lower lip, the careful way she tends to my wound.
My stomach churns with conflicting emotions. Part of me is horrified by what just happened, the sudden explosion of violence that seemed to come out of nowhere. The memory of her hand around my throat, the crack of my head against the wall, it makes me feel sick.
But there's another part of me that's almost... enjoying this. The tenderness in her touch now, the desperate way she's trying to make it better. Like I'm precious to her. Like she can't bear the thought of me being hurt.
"Did you do this to me a lot?" The question slips out before I can stop it. "Before I lost my memories, I mean."
Emily's hands freeze. The bloody antiseptic wipe hovers inches from my temple as she stares at me, something complicated happening behind her eyes.
She sighs deeply, her shoulders slumping as she resumes cleaning my wound. "I did what I needed to do to make sure my husband was secure," she says quietly, not meeting my gaze. "To make sure we were together."
The careful phrasing makes my skin crawl.
"Emily, I'm sorry I went through your office. I shouldn't have broken your trust like that. But that level of violence... It's scary."
She finishes with the bandage and looks at me directly for the first time since we entered the bathroom. Her eyes are red-rimmed, mascara streaked down her cheeks in black rivers. Something in her expression shifts, crumbles.
"You can't leave me, Charles," she whispers, her whole body beginning to shake. "You can't, okay? Not this version of you." Her voice cracks as she grabs my hands, squeezing them with desperate strength. "You actually love me again. Please, please, please…"
Her words dissolve into frantic, gasping breaths. She's hyperventilating, tears streaming down her face as she clutches my hands like I'm about to evaporate. The panic in her eyes is real and raw, a terror so profound it makes my heart ache despite everything.
"Hey, hey, relax," I pull her trembling body against mine, wrapping my arms around her as she continues to shake. "I'm not going anywhere, okay?"
Her sobs slow as I hold her, her face buried against my chest. I can feel her tears soaking through my shirt, mixing with the blood that's already there. The bathroom lights seem too harsh for this moment, highlighting every smudge of mascara on her face, every drop of my blood on her silk blouse.
"You promise?" she whispers against my chest, her voice small and broken. "You won't leave me?"
I stroke her hair, feeling the silky strands between my fingers. Part of me is screaming to run, to get as far away from this woman as possible. But the larger part, the part that's been growing stronger every day I've spent with her, can't bear to see her like this.
"I promise," I say, and I'm surprised by how much I mean it.
Emily pulls back just enough to look at my face, her eyes searching mine for any hint of deception. Whatever she sees seems to satisfy her, because her body relaxes slightly against mine.
"I'm so sorry," she says again, reaching up to gently touch the bandage on my temple. "I've never... I didn't mean to..."
"I promise I'll never hurt you again," she whispers, her voice cracking with emotion. "I swear, Charles. Never again."
I look into those tear-streaked green eyes, watching her lips form the promise with such conviction. I don’t believe her.
The memory of her fingers around my throat is too fresh, the strength in her grip too real.
Emily towers over me both in height and physical power. Those hours in the gym have given her a strength I couldn't match even if I tried. If she decides to hurt me again, I don't think I could stop her.
Yet as I look at her before me, my heart aches in a way I can't explain. It's pulling me toward her despite every rational thought screaming to run. This feeling, whatever it is, isn't something I can simply walk away from.
"Alright, I believe you," I say softly, the word hanging between us like a fragile thread.
You can read early chapters here.
https://subscribestar.adult/astrolust
And a link to my Discord
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