My Husband Sold Me To The Dragon

"Husband? May we talk?"

Luke is smiling when he looks up to meet her gaze, and Sophie envies whatever it is in the letter he's holding that made him look so content. He hides it behind his back before she can see who it came from.

It isn't her who wrote it, that's for sure.

"Ah. It's a bit late, no?" Luke says. "And I'm exhausted from all the mingling I did the entire day. The other lords were being insufferable."

She almost relents, but the determined voice inside her head rings louder than any sympathy she can muster for her husband. She'd spared him her own time whenever he had his complaints, after all, even when their conversations were held late into the night and in the first hours of the morning thanks to Luke's workaholic tendencies.

Sophie was no pushover. She knew when reciprocated efforts were due.

"I know, but we can keep it short. I just wanted to discuss a few things."

"I really can't right now, Sophie." His brows were furrowed, voice strained and joyless. No more love. No more wife either. Just Sophie.

Whoever said women were confusing was lying. Men's personalities were built entirely on mind games. Luke was no exception, Sophie learned much too late into their marriage.

"Oh, so you have the energy to talk to Miss Gabriella but not to your own wife? Really?"

Luke grimaced. Her words seemed to have struck deep. He looked genuinely pissed, in a way he'd never been in the span of their marriage, not even when Luke was still courting her. She didn't mean to respond with something so tactless, but it had been building up since that morning, maybe even before that.

"Are you jealous of my childhood friend, Sophie? That is rather childish of you."

"Who wouldn't be jealous, husband? You seem to prefer her presence over mine."

She reminded herself to practice self-control after she finished the discussion with her husband—her running mouth might cause more trouble than necessary.

Luke placed his quill down on his desk and looked his wife straight in the eye. "Fine. You wish to discuss things, let's discuss."

She allowed a glimpse of sadness to reflect on her face and it seemed to melt through her husband's anger. He was somber by the time she spoke.

"Did I do something wrong, my dearest husband?"

The silence that followed spoke volumes and, at the same time, told Sophie nothing at all. Something was wrong, that was for sure, Luke's lack of response and clear look of comprehension communicated that. But what? What was wrong? When did it start?

"No."

"Look me in the eye, Luke. Look me in the eye when you say that."

He swallowed down the saliva collecting in his mouth, lifting his head to meet his wife's gaze. "No, you did nothing wrong, Sophie."

"Then why?" Her voice cracked and both of them winced, unfamiliar with the Duchess being in a state so pathetic.

"Why what, love?" Luke cooed in that pacifying tone of his. But it didn't make her feel better, couldn't, it only confused Sophie.

One moment he was warm, loving, the perfect husband, and then he was as cold as everyone made him out to be.

"Why? You haven't touched me in months, husband! You don't answer when I ask about your day. You flinch whenever I hold you. You pretend as if I haven't been initiating intimacy with you and say you're too tired. In fact, you're always too tired. Too tired to even notice my gifts, too tired to say something more than thanks, too tired to talk to me beyond five words a day."

Luke remained still, silent, painfully so. It only motivated Sophie to say even more, even when she knew she was overstepping.

Wives were in no position to voice their troubles to their husbands as stated by the rules of high society and although Sophie never believed in that, she recognized that she was losing control over her volume, over her words.

She couldn't stop herself as it was happening, however, as he was human first and foremost.

"And then suddenly I run into you being all cozy with Miss Gabriella. What am I supposed to think when all those years ago you said you were repulsed by touch except mine? When you said you wouldn't be caught dead holding someone who isn't me?"

The taste of salt invaded her tongue, the liquid falling from her eyes posing a challenge to her coherency. She had so much to say, so much she wanted him to feel back, but she could only stumble on her words.

"Did I do something wrong? Are you punishing me? Is it work? I can always find more ways to help, I want to solve this with you, I want to make it up to you. Just say something, just talk to me."

"Stop it. Stop this nonsense."

She wished she wasn't heaving, she wished her nightgown wasn't so damp from her tears because Luke looked so indifferent, as if her feelings had been an inconvenience, a measly thorn on his side.

"Don't burden yourself with more responsibilities for me. You haven't done anything wrong. As a matter of fact, nothing is wrong. I'm just not feeling like it these days. I am a busy man, can't you understand that?"

She wasn't satisfied with that. After months of nothing but apathy from his side, she could barely be satisfied by anything. She needed a real answer. And for a moment she considered that maybe she was looking at it from the wrong angle.

"You do not act as if nothing is wrong. I don't understand. Did something happen? Did someone hurt you? You promised to tell me if something happened."

"Why are you being so difficult?! You are usually so simple-minded! You have a roof over your head, new dresses every full moon, and enough free time to chat about trivial things with your friends! I gave you the perfect life! Are you not satisfied with that?!"

Sophie's jaw fell on the floor. Luke never raised his voice at her. He had never looked and sounded as threatening as he did now.

She didn't know what to do but to return the attitude, hands trembling at her side as more hurting escaped the bounds of her heart.

"So what if I have those things?! They are meaningless to me if I cannot even talk to the man I love without being met with coldness!"

"You do not love me, Sophie! There is no need to pretend any longer. You love that you are the duchess. You love that you are no longer the lowly Lady Sophie."

Forest green never looked so full of resentment, never lacked the warmth Sophie's soul seeked until now. Pissed was an understatement, Luke was enraged, as if his wife's presence in the room was outrageous all on its own.

"You do not mean that. You do not believe that I am using you. We married out of love. Luke, I love you..."

For a second time since the night of their anniversary, Luke walked out without another word. This time, the slam of the door filled their home with its resounding echoes but Sophie remained unmoving.