[BL] A Marriage Ruled by Family, Saved by Desire-Chapter 51: Moments Between Chaos

~Alistair’s POV~

"No, baby, please—" He reached out, his hand trembling as he tried to bridge the gap between us, his fingers ghosting toward my arm.

"Don’t you dare touch me," I snapped. The words were sharp, hitting him with the force of a physical blow.

He flinched, pulling his hand back as if he’d been burned. He stood there, hovering in the center of the room, looking utterly lost.

"Alis... please," he murmured, his voice breaking. "Don’t leave me. If you go back to your parents’ house... I won’t... I won’t get to see you. I can’t... I can’t fall asleep without you next to me."

"Then maybe you should’ve thought about that before you let Sarah into our lives," I shot back. "Don’t forget, you slept with her, and now she’s carrying your child. I’m sure you’ll be sleeping just fine without me."

He opened his mouth to protest, his face draining of color, but my phone cut him off. Andrew’s name flashed across the screen, and a genuine smile curved my lips. I didn’t hesitate, I answered immediately.

"I’m at the estate gates, Alis," Andrew said, his voice a calm contrast to the chaos in this room.

"I’ll be there in a minute," I replied. "Just hang on."

I grabbed my wallet and slipped into my coat, heading for the door. I was halfway there when Alex’s voice stopped me. "What about our anniversary? It’s in three days, Alis... you can’t..."

I paused, hand on the doorknob, and glanced back at him over my shoulder. I offered a cool, polite nod. "Go ahead and arrange it. Send me the location, and I’ll save it in my calendar. Wouldn’t want to forget."

I watched the hope flicker in his eyes for a split second before I extinguished it.

"I’ll try to create some time in my schedule to show up," I added, my tone making it clear that our anniversary was now just another chore on my list.

With that, I walked out, leaving him standing in the middle of our bedroom, surrounded by the ruins of a marriage he had failed to protect.

When I stepped into the living room, the air felt thick with deceit. Alex’s mother and Sarah were huddled together, but the moment she looked up and saw me hurrying toward the door, she straightened in her seat and spoke.

"Where are you rushing off to, Alistair?" She asked, her voice laced with the sharp maternal authority she so loved to wield.

I forced a tight, polite mask onto my face. "I’m meeting a friend."

"I see," she replied, not even bothering to ask who. She didn’t care about my life; she only cared about the optics. "Well, don’t be back late."

"Alright," I said shortly, swinging the door open and stepping out into the crisp morning air.

As the heavy oak door clicked shut behind me, I paused beneath the grand entrance, half-expecting it to swing open again,

As the heavy oak door clicked shut behind me, a hollow ache settled deep in my chest. I paused beneath the grand entrance, the silence pressing in, half-expecting the door to burst open. I waited for Alex to come running after me, to grab my arm, to plead one last time, to refuse to let me walk away.

But the house stayed quiet.

I glanced down at my phone. No frantic messages. No missed calls.

A chill crept through me, and it had nothing to do with the weather.

Is he giving up on me too?

I lingered there a second longer, staring at the entrance as if it might still change its mind. Then I forced myself to look away.

I walked down the driveway to where Andrew was waiting. We exchanged a brief, warm greeting, and I climbed into the passenger seat. As he pulled away from the estate, I leaned my head against the window, watching the house shrink in the rearview mirror.

I was so lost in the wreckage of my thoughts that I barely heard Andrew speaking. It wasn’t until he gently touched my arm that I snapped back to the present.

"What did you say?" I asked quickly.

He studied me for a moment. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I replied automatically, then frowned slightly. "What were you asking?"

He glanced toward the house before looking back at me. "Was that your family home? Or were you just visiting someone?"

I forced a smile, careful to keep my voice steady. "It’s my family home," I replied. It was easier than admitting I was trapped in a gilded cage, sharing a roof with the man who had broken me.

He seemed poised to ask more, probably curious whether I was staying with my parents or siblings, but the idea felt too cold to entertain. I cut him off swiftly. "Where are we going?"

"Actually, I was hoping you could help me," Andrew said, flashing an easy grin at me. "My mother’s birthday is in three days, and I’m hopeless at shopping. I need to find the perfect gift. Would you mind coming along to help me pick something out?"

Hearing Andrew talk about his mother’s birthday snapped me out of my thoughts. I hadn’t even considered a gift for Alex. Usually, I would have been excited, already planning something special. But now... I felt a strange emptiness, unsure if I even cared enough to think about it at all.

Even so... three days. The very same day as my anniversary with Alex.

"I don’t mind at all," I said, a genuine softness returning to my voice. "It sounds like a perfect distraction."

The shopping trip was exactly what I needed. We spent the afternoon wandering through high-end boutiques, the scent of fine leather and polished glass a welcome relief from the suffocating atmosphere at home. Andrew was attentive, seeking my opinion on everything from silk scarves to gold-embossed stationery. For a brief few hours, I wasn’t a heartbroken husband, I was simply a friend helping another.

Once the gift was finally chosen, a stunning, handcrafted piece that radiated elegance, Andrew turned to me with a respectful smile.

"I don’t mean to take up your whole day," he said softly, "but if you don’t mind, would you come back to my place? I want to wrap this properly before we take it to my mother’s house. I’d appreciate the company."

I paused for a moment. Visiting his home felt like stepping over a boundary I wasn’t ready to cross, but returning to that house, meeting Alex’s pleading eyes and enduring his mother’s sharp tongue, was something I couldn’t bear. I wasn’t ready to face that reality.

"I’d like that," I said. "Let’s go."

As we drove, my mind drifted to my phone, silently hoping for a message from Alex. But there was nothing, no call, no text. I pictured him at the house, pacing, crying, maybe even reaching for a drink. I knew it was risky for his health; the doctor had warned him against alcohol. But the worry that once gnawed at me didn’t surface.

But I didn’t dwell on it. Maybe he wasn’t drinking at all. Maybe he was just sitting there, simmering with jealousy because I had left. The thought passed quickly, and I locked my phone, letting it go. His health was no longer mine to carry. He was at home with his mother, if anything happened, she would take care of him.

When we arrived at Andrew’s house, I was struck by its beauty. A modern architectural marvel, it featured clean lines and floor-to-ceiling glass that welcomed the light. The warmth of the space felt deliberate, and the decor, masculine yet sophisticated, was filled with art that reflected a man confident in who he was.

Andrew was a natural host. He moved through the kitchen with effortless ease, preparing a light meal. We ate together, sharing quiet conversation and laughter, and later wrapped the gift, stumbling over our attempts at perfect bows. With the task done, we set off for his mother’s home.

As we pulled into her neighborhood, a sudden wave of anxiety washed over me. "Andrew... are you sure about this?" I asked, glancing at him. "Is it really okay for me to just show up at your mother’s house like this? Will she be okay with me being there?"

Andrew slowed the car and turned toward me, his expression softening into something quietly reassuring. He reached out, resting a hand over mine for a brief, grounding moment.

"Alistair, look at me," he said, smiling. "My mother is going to like you. She’s always been nice to my friends, and honestly, she’s been asking when I’d finally bring someone interesting around. You don’t need to worry, just be yourself. That’s more than enough."

His reassurance felt like a shield. But as he turned back to the road, a small, curious thought flitted through my mind. Interesting? What did he mean by that? Was it the way we met, or did he see something in me I’d long forgotten? I pushed the thought aside, telling myself he meant he enjoyed my company as a friend. That was enough for now.

A short while later, we pulled up to a charming, elegant house that immediately caught my eye.

"We’re here," Andrew said...