Devoted Love, Mr. Hayes’ Darling Wife

Nico started being cold and violent, staying out at night, coming home smelling of alcohol and full of hostility.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

But Micaela doesn’t argue, doesn’t pursue, doesn’t ask questions, and when she comes home, she puts the bath water on and gets the laundry from home.

Like an ordinary gentle wife, she took care of her upbringing, without asking or saying anything.

As if nothing had happened, she was still the brilliant mistress of the place.

But heart attacks and disconnections, when they slowly build up to a certain point, explode more viciously.

The marriage certificate was left in disarray on the floor, even stepped on by Nico, who had previously treasured it in a safe.

Micaela carefully picked up the two marriage certificates and reached out to clean them, but the stains on them seemed to never come out, as she did.

She rubbed harder and harder, on the verge of crumpling and rubbing the marriage certificate paper.

Tears, one by one, hit the marriage certificate.

Nico came out of the shower and looked at her coldly squatting on the floor cleaning her marriage certificate, he laughed and sneered at her, “How can you clean something when it’s dirty?”.

Micaela still stubbornly morbid to rub it in.

Nico frowned, and finally shouted impatiently, “Stop scrubbing it!”.

He took the marriage certificate in his split hand and held it out to Micaelain his hand, “Do you know how you can clean them?”.

Nico picked up the lighter from the side of the table and clicked it, the flames of the fire against the corner of the marriage certificate, burning, the warm firelight reflecting off his face, but his face was cold and eerie, as if he couldn’t melt, and he said, expressionless, “Now this, when they burn to ashes, to be clean.”

As Micaela watched, Nico burned his marriage certificate with his bare hands.

Finally, burning until there was a corner left, Nico discarded them in an ashtray in disgust.

Micaela didn’t cry, she even gave him a forced smile and said, as if nothing had happened, “I’m going to get your pajamas.”

Nico finally couldn’t seem to take it anymore and pulled her back by her slender wrists, shouting angrily at her, “You think you’re still qualified to be the mistress of this place?”

Micaela’s averted eyes flickered for a moment.

She, really, isn’t qualified?

She dared not question, perhaps, as Nico had said, she really had no dignity or standing to speak.

She wants Nico to be happy.

But now that she’s at Nico’s side, it seems that instead of making him happy, it makes them both more miserable.

Micaela is not sure if her stubbornness and persistence are still right or not.

These days, she is in constant denial and insistence, conflicted and on the verge of tearing two people apart.

She’s going crazy, and so is Nico.

Micaela’s face hung slightly, her voice was muffled and dry with a hint of choking, she opened her lips and her throat swallowed several times before slowly squeezing the words out of her, “Either … or forget it.”

He knew they couldn’t go back.

That barrier, like a heavenly rift, stood between them, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t cross it.

Nico wouldn’t think so much of her anymore.

Forget it, divorce is the best option.

Micaela also wanted to relieve him.

“Forget it, Micaela, what do you take me for?” Nico sneered, “Even if you disgust me, disgust, hate the filth in you, I won’t let you go, in this life, you’ll never let me half a step!”.

From now on, she would mean as little to him as venting.

Nico tugged on Micaela’s arm and dragged her violently toward the small attic at the back of the villa.

Micaela didn’t know what she was going to do, Nico had already picked her up and dropped her on the cot in the small loft.

Nico’s eyes were red with anger and he looked at her through gritted teeth and said, “Forget it? I’m telling you Micaela, between us there is only death.”

Nico is mad with hatred and jealousy, jealous that Dario was his first love, jealous that Dario knew her before him, jealous that Dario was the mark of vermilion on his heart, and he hates to tear out Micaela’s heart and rebuild it, so violently that he feels it growing in his blood and he can never get rid of it.

“Micaela, tell me, am I not good enough for you? You’ve become my wife, you’ve married me, so why do you want to mess with Darius! Why are you giving Darius the chance to see you?”

“Do you know how much I want to tear this dirty skin off you? Tell me why you betrayed me and why you gave someone the chance to take advantage of it. What didn’t I do to you to make you do this to me? You tell me, Micaela…”

Nico hissed under his breath, his voice mournful and full of vicious hatred.

Micaela’s cold tears slid from the corners of her eyes to the temples of her hair as she stared at the tiny chandelier in the small attic, the corners of her mouth tightening slightly, pulling up a bitter smile as she said softly, “If torturing me like this makes you feel better, then let’s go … To death. ”

…

After all, Christmas Eve this year has come and gone.

As it turns out, the sky is not falling.

Everywhere, amidst its hubbub, Christmas Eve was being celebrated.

Micaela sits by the small attic window, watching the lights, the buzz of a million fireworks none of her business.

After Nico confined her to this little attic, he never saw her again, aside from sending a maid to bring her food and drink every day.

Tonight she won’t be there either, I suppose.

On the other side of the window, not far away, flaming silver fireworks blossomed in the sky, illuminating the small, dark attic.

Micaela tilted her head to look out the window at the fireworks, her lips slowly smiling.

The sound of the fireworks, so close to her and seemingly so far away.

Suddenly she remembered that long, long ago, joy was the pretty fireworks she loved, and love was the money she never lacked in her hand to buy candy.

Back then, I always thought that happiness could accumulate and pile up, and that time could wait, but I never thought that some people, like fireworks, are fleeting, and that now even having them is a luxury.

She sat alone in the dark attic, silently watching the moment when the dark room was filled with light from the colorful fireworks in the windows.

Nico told her, “Be good, when I get home I’ll set off fireworks for you.”

But the fireworks he was talking about could not be expected after all.

His home is gone, too.