Marry me 99 more times

"Hello?" Sophia answered the phone, trying to sound calm, though a slight hitch in her voice betrayed her. "Are you okay?" Ethan's voice was low and steady as always-impossible to read. "Mild concussion and some cuts from glass. It's all been taken care of," she answered factually. "Sorry." Just one word-polite, distant. It landed like a pin in her heart. Since when did "sorry" become the default between husband and wife? In the past six months, they had treated each other with courtesy, never raising their voices. She had once mistaken that for harmony. Now she realized-it was the vast distance between them in disguise. "You didn't come home last night?" "Mm. Overtime," he said briefly, offering no further explanation. She was used to it. Ethan's world was full of endless projects and social obligations. "There's a company dinner tonight. Want to come?" The silence that followed was entirely expected. She could picture him now-probably with one hand braced against the desk, brows furrowed, thinking of a tactful way to say no. As expected. "I have an important dinner meeting tonight." "Got it." She hung up, unsurprised. They rarely interfered with each other's social lives or work. That evening, the team dinner was held at an upscale restaurant. Everyone came in pairs-she was the only one alone. After using the restroom, her phone rang. It was Lily Carter. "Babe, I've got a date tomorrow!" "Oh? Who's the lucky man this time?" Sophia leaned against the hallway wall, her voice tinged with a tired smile. Sophia had always envied Lily. Lily believed in love sparked by chemistry and spiritual connection. She idealized that slow-burning, Platonic kind of romance-something that felt like fiction to Sophia, who had rushed into marriage for the sake of "compatibility." Sophia and Ethan had met during a sudden downpour. He didn't have an umbrella, and she had nowhere to go. A week later, they registered their marriage. There was no grand wedding, no romantic proposal, not even deep understanding-just two adults who thought the other seemed "good enough." They hadn't married for love. Peace at home was a blessing already. She told herself she shouldn't expect more. After chatting with Lily for a bit, Sophia returned to the table. Everyone was already seated. "Where's your mysterious husband, Sophia?" Emily Parker, arm-in-arm with her boyfriend, asked with teasing curiosity. "He's got an important dinner tonight," Sophia replied with a smile, then lowered her head, pretending to study the menu, desperately wishing the evening would end. At some point, someone suggested a game of Truth or Dare. Her luck was awful-she lost several rounds. This time, the punishment was: go to the private room next door and confess your love to a man. Amid the rowdy cheers, she pushed open the door. Inside were several well-dressed men. She froze, at a loss for what to do-until her eyes met a pair of familiar, deep-set ones in the corner. Ethan. He wore a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled casually above his elbows, languidly leaning back in his chair with a glass of red wine in hand. He was watching her quietly. So this was the "important dinner meeting." "Hey, beautiful! Confess to me!" A handsome, roguish-looking man waved at her, his smile full of mischief. Sophia quickly took a step back, avoiding his outstretched hand, her voice cold. "It's just a game. No need to take it seriously." Thankfully, Noah Hughes rushed in, placing himself in front of her and whisking her away. The dinner ended awkwardly. As she stepped out of the restaurant, she saw Ethan's car waiting at the entrance. He rolled down the window, his eyes calm as he looked at her. She got in the passenger seat, her expression stubborn. He leaned over, his familiar clean scent enveloping her as he gently fastened her seatbelt. His movements were elegant and unhurried. Then, his warm lips brushed hers in a kiss-light as a feather. "Does it hurt?" he asked gently, brushing back her bangs to check the scab on her forehead. His touch was tender, his eyes full of the concern she knew so well. "It doesn't hurt anymore after you kissed it," she whispered, not realizing the note of dependence in her voice. His gentleness had a way of melting her defenses. "Fool." He chuckled softly and pulled her into his arms. Resting against his firm chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, all her earlier doubts and unhappiness seemed to fade in his warm embrace. But just as he pulled her slightly closer, as if to offer more comfort, a scent suddenly hit her-an unfamiliar, rich perfume, distinctly feminine, and completely at odds with his usual crisp cologne. Her body stiffened slightly. Nowhere in their marriage agreement had it said she needed to get used to another woman's scent on her husband.