I stormed up to my room after tearing him a new one without holding back.
"How did I end up being a wife to a guy like this? Son of a bitch. Total loser! Does he think I'm his slave? I'm your wife, you jerk! To hell with being a Minister. I'm done! If you want a new wife, go find one!" I cursed and ranted while shoving clothes into my suitcase. I knew he couldn't hear me, but hey, at least I was still being 'polite' by not saying it to his face.
Knock, knock, knock.
I bolted upright and looked at the door. Is he coming for revenge already? This is bad. I packed at lightning speed, my mind racing for an escape route. Ah, blankets! The ultimate tool for a second-story getaway. I tied them into knots and secured them to the window frame. I peeked down—it was pretty high. But hey, I'm not scared. When I lived with my grandma as a kid, we used to play tag in the trees. Anything is better than staying here and being a 'horned beast' for him to insult.
"I promise we'll talk reasonably. I-Tim, open the door for me."
Huh? Is that guy actually trying to make up with me? My ears aren't playing tricks on me, are they? At this moment, I was torn. Just hearing him say that made me soften up quite a bit.
"It's a bit too high, isn't it? Not worth dying for," I muttered to myself before closing the window and hiding the suitcase. My eyes darted to the herbal balm on the nightstand. I'd been using it because I wasn't used to sleeping in an air-conditioned room, which had given me a cold for days. The balm was the only thing that helped me breathe clearly.
"Damn, that stings! You idiot!" I cursed myself. Am I stupid or crazy for rubbing herbal balm right under my eyes? I ran to the bathroom to splash water on my face. My plan to fake cry turned into actual sobbing because it burned like hell! Talk about a brilliant plan.
"Why are you crying?" he asked the moment I opened the door.
"I wasn't crying. Soap got in my eyes," I hiccuped, making a sobbing sound. I didn't even have to fake it—just let me cry, it stings so bad!
"You haven't even showered yet. How could soap get in your eyes?" His hand reached out to brush the wet hair from my face. I have to admit, my heart started pounding. Does the Minister actually have a side like this? "Want me to buy you some skincare?"
You jerk! Everything was going so well, and then you insult my face? My skin isn't that bad. But then again, if he's offering... high-end cream is definitely better than the cheap stuff I'm using.
"Don't bother playing the nice guy with me. Aside from the car, I won't ask for anything else from you," I said, brushing his hand off. "And stay out of my business. I just want to live my life—just make sure those women of yours don't bother me. That's enough."
"Oh..."
"I want to be alone. Get out."
"I was in a bad mood because of work. Just forget about it." Forget? Is he crazy?
"I'm not good at forgetting. You're the Minister of Education—can't you control your emotions better than this? I understand you're stressed and carrying the weight of the entire country, but this is a home. You shouldn't dump your trash here. It stinks, and nobody likes it."
"I'll try. Now, let's go eat. I've already bought some food." His voice softened, sounding much more pleasant like it had a few days ago. Hearing that tone made me feel a little better.
"Wait... are you actually trying to make up with me?" He didn't answer directly but pivoted to talking about having a baby. Like, how did we even get there?
"It's quite simple. I'll make sure you're always ready. Like right now."
He moved so fast. My brain went blank for a second. By the time I realized what was happening, his hand was already sliding under my clothes, touching my 'precious cargo.' That was when I realized my mistake—I'd let him in, and I was actually starting to get swept away by his heat.
This won't do! I can't let him use this to assert his dominance. If I give in today, I'll be the underdog wife forever!
Thump! Thump! Thump!
I pounded my fists against his back, but the Minister didn't seem to care about the stinging pain. His hands were everywhere, and his lips were so smooth it made the hair on my arms stand up in unison.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
I gave it everything I had. This time, he couldn't take it anymore, no matter how sturdy he was.
"You've got quite a bit of strength, haven't you? Are you satisfied now? If you are, then stop being angry."
"If this is your way of making up with me, let me tell you—I'd much rather rub my foot across your face." You disgusting man! How could you think I'd soften up just because of this? Dream on!
"Watch your langua—"
SLAP!
He closed his eyes. I wasn't sure if he was going to be furious, looking for a way to get back at me, or if he was being enough of a gentleman not to hit a woman back.
"Are you satisfied now?"
Perfect! An opportunity like this doesn't come easy. If I didn't take it now, I might never get the chance again. Consider this punishment for being a cold, rude jerk to your wife!
"Can I do the other side too, Sir?" My hand swung through the air, but the Minister caught it just in time. "Mmmph!" He shut me up so hard I thought my lip was going to bleed.
"You can slap me, but I get a kiss. No, that's not enough. One slap equals one 'session.' I don't think I need to explain what I mean by 'session' in this context."
His eyes were as sharp and steady as a hawk's. I backed away... Dammit! He's so good at playing the 'cool' guy.
"Are we changing the subject? You're just trying to sound good to cover up your mistakes. I still remember you being a petty jerk. Get out! Stay away from me! And let me tell you—there is no way I'm having a baby with you. Even if you sleep with me every day, I'll take an emergency contraceptive every single day. You know that taking those once or twice can risk damaging the uterus, right?" If I can't use force, I'll use this. "Your grandmother would be so disappoint—Hey!"
Suddenly, he dragged me out of the room, through the house, and all the way to the parking lot. He shoved my resisting body into the car and buckled the seatbelt for me.
"Don't say another word. If you say even one more word, I'll take you on a 'honeymoon' upstairs and lock you in until you don't know day from night—and you won't leave until you're pregnant."
He switched back to that harsh, commanding tone again. Does my Minister have a split personality disorder? Can't he just keep his voice consistent? His wife can't keep up with these mood swings, Sir!