My Husband, My Ruin

ESMELRALDA P.O.V. I got ready in a red tight dress. I packed my long hair into a messy bun and kept my makeup minimal-just the way I liked it. I am never a fan of heavy makeup. I always say, "keep it simple." Once I was done, I stepped out of our room and saw Damien, my devilishly handsome husband, sitting on the couch in a black Armani suit. My heart skipped a beat. We shared soft smiles as we walked to the car and got in. I was gazing out of the window when Damien gently took my hands in his. He brought them to his lips and kissed my knuckles. A blush crept onto my cheeks. Still holding my hand, with eyes on the road while driving, he said, "When I bought this dress for you, I never imagined it would look this stunning on you. I'm not letting you out of my sight tonight. Who knows who might try to steal my pretty wife?" I giggled. "Oh, so Mr. Husband is feeling insecure? And what do you mean 'the dress is looking'? Am I not looking beautiful?" I pouted my lips at him playfully. He glanced at me with a mock glare. "Esmelrada, stop doing that... Can't you see I'm driving? Just wait until my hands are free. Then I will show you just how beautiful you are." I couldn't help but giggle. I leaned my head on his shoulder and smiled as I looked at him. These moments were rare. Damien was always so busy, and we hardly got time to be close like this. I cherished every second of it. He focused back on the road and asked softly, "What is going on in my baby's little head?" I watched Damien as he focused on driving, and I couldn't help but smile. He glanced at me, curiosity in his eyes. "What's going on in that little brain of yours? Why are you smiling like that?" he asked. I smacked his arm playfully. "I don't have a little brain, okay? I'm smiling because I was just thinking about how far we have both come. Who would have thought, a year ago, that we would be sitting here like this, enjoying our married life? Things were so different back then." He leaned over and kissed my forehead, his touch was gentle. "Yeah, I completely agree with you," he said. "You used to be such a shy baby back then. You'd always stay so aloof from everyone. And remember how you ran away after seeing me? I always wondered what it was about my face that made you so nervous." I nodded, memories rushing back. "I remember. But at that time, we just met, and I was yet to understand my feelings for you. Every time you came near me, my heart would beat so fast, and I'd blush without even realizing it. It must have looked so suspicious to most people at the cafe . I thought you wouldn't love me because I'm not from a rich family. I thought you would go for a girl who was beautiful, popular, classy, and even studied abroad. That's why, no matter how many times you asked, I couldn't make our relationship official even after three months." "And when you told me that you might relocate to another continent, I became so worried. I was scared that I might get hurt. You had been showering me with a lot of love, and that was like enough evidence to prove you loved me despite my background. I didn't want to lose you to any girl either, so the thought of you relocating scared me. That word alone made me accept your proposal." I glanced at Damien as he turned off the car and looked at me warmly. He smiled at me warmly. "I know, baby," he said. "But let's give this topic a little break and get out of the car. Mr. Watson must be waiting for us." I nodded, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves. We walked inside the party hall together, hand in hand, and were greeted by a young pair-Mr. Watson and his beautiful wife, Perry Watson Damien shook his head slightly, smiling as he greeted Mr. Watson. "Good evening, Mr. Watson. I must say you have made really nice arrangements." The man smiled, and then his gaze shifted to me, where I stood talking to his wife. "And I must say," he said with a sly smile, "you have a very pretty wife. Won't you introduce me to her?" Damien turned to me with a small grin. "Yeah, sure, why not?" he said. Then, looking directly at me, he added, "Baby, this is my new business partner, Mr. watson. He's investing a great sum in my project. And Mr. Watson, she is my wife, Esmelrada." Mr. Watson's eyes lingered on me with an unsettling smirk as he extended his hand. I took it hesitantly, but to my shock, he lifted my hand and planted a kiss on my knuckles before pulling me into a tight hug. He pressed his hand on my bare waist and rubbed it slightly. I immediately pushed him away, feeling disgusted, and turned to see Damien talking casually with Perry, his hand resting lightly on her waist. He looked at me and smiled, as if everything were perfectly normal. I felt my chest tighten. "Damien... I want to talk to you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. He turned his head slightly, still keeping his hand on Perry's waist. "Yeah, Esmeralda?" he replied, sounding so casual that it made my heart ache. I met his eyes and raised my hand insistently. "I want to talk to you-alone," I said, pressing the word alone so that he would understand how serious I was. I tried to sound firm, even though my voice was trembling. Damien removed his hand from Perry's waist and turned to look at me, a frown creasing his forehead. " Esmeralda" he said, his tone a mix of irritation and disbelief, "say it here, or if you want to talk to me alone, then I think you can wait until we both reach home. We are here to enjoy the party, right? We can talk at home too. So just have some patience until we get there." Before I could protest, Watson stepped in with a polite smile. "No, Mr. Damien, it's completely alright," he said, glancing between us. "You both may have your privacy talk. Until then, Perry and I will greet the other guests. So you two carry on. Please, feel comfortable. We will see you around." He left with Perry, leaving me and Damien standing there. I looked down at my hands, feeling his intense gaze on me. He grabbed my arm tightly and dragged me into a corner. "Now tell me, Esmelrada," he hissed in an angry whisper. "What was so important that you just had to talk about it now? What was that so-called important talk that made you so restless that you embarrassed me in front of my business partner? Couldn't you just wait until we left or got home?" Tears pooled in my eyes as I met his glare. "Damien, please, first listen to me," I pleaded. "It was important. I... I don't know how you will react after hearing this, but I'm not feeling good about Mr. Watson. He was behaving very strangely with me, you know? He kissed my hand and even hugged me without my permission." Damien's expression turned cold, disinterested. "So?" he said flatly. "That's all you want to say, Esmelrada? I just can't believe this. You are making a fuss about this small thing. Why are you acting like he was trying to force himself on you?" I couldn't believe how cold he sounded. "Come on, Esmeralda, grow up. Someone once said it right-even if a poor person starts wearing expensive clothes and lives in luxurious houses, the only thing that changes is their status. That wretched mindset still stays the same. This isn't some function from your poor background. Here, people greet each other this way. So please stop making a scene over nothing." He turned to walk away, but then his eyes landed on Perry, who was standing nearby, smiling at us. I quickly wiped my tears and forced a smile, pretending everything was fine. Perry walked over, still smiling. "So, I think everything is sorted out between this beautiful couple?" she said cheerfully. Damien spoke before I could even breathe. "Mrs. Watson, please don't mind. My wife is just a little immature, that's all. Please don't take her behavior seriously." Perry placed her hand gently on his shoulder. "It's okay, Damien. And please, call me Perry." She turned slightly to me and added, "I actually came to ask you for a dance. It's my birthday today, and I want to dance with the most handsome man at this party." She smiled at me, her voice dripping with charm. "I hope you don't mind, Esmeralda, if I steal your hot husband for a few moments." I clenched my fists so tightly I thought my nails might pierce my skin. Still, I forced a fake smile. What else could I do? To be continued