I'm Lucky Enough

Sienna paused, the bright smile freezing on her face for a fraction of a second. She registered my subtle defiance, the firm line I just drew in the sand regarding the milk, but she recovered in the blink of an eye. Instead of snapping back or showing her irritation, she immediately changed her tactic. Her delicate fingers tightened their grip on the crisp fabric of Damian’s shirt. She leaned into him, burying her face slightly into his shoulder, her voice trembling with manufactured distress.

"Brother Damian," she pleaded softly, her tone laced with thick, saccharine guilt. "I was too reckless last night. Can you ask Sis Adeline to stay and have breakfast with us as my apology?"

It took one orchestrated sentence. Just a handful of fragile, honeyed words. Damian, who had treated me like thin air since I walked into the kitchen, finally shifted his gaze. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and the gentle warmth he had just shown Sienna vanished.

"Stay and eat with us!" he ordered, his voice brooking no argument.

It was a harsh, authoritative command meant for a subordinate, not a wife. Did the commanding tone hurt? I gripped the edge of the counter, my fingernails biting into my own palms. The sad truth was that I was used to this treatment by now. Damian was the man I had loved fiercely at first sight. He was the gravity in my world, and the act of fully letting go remained a bitter, agonizing struggle within my heart.

Masking my profound pain, I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced the corners of my mouth up into a compliant smile. I nodded slowly. "Well, thank you."

I walked over and pulled out a chair, taking a seat at the polished dining table. Soon, a plate rested in front of me. I found myself quietly eating warm toast and fried eggs prepared by Damian’s own hands. It felt like a rare, almost unimaginable luxury. These hands were meant to sign multimillion-dollar contracts and dictate others' lives in the corporate world, yet here he was, standing over a stove.

But Sienna was quick to brutally shatter any fleeting, pathetic illusion I might hold about this domestic moment.

With a bright, beaming smile, she lifted her fork and deliberately slid another fried egg onto my plate.

"You should try it," she bragged softly, her sweet tone acting like poisoned honey. "He always cooks for me when we’re together."

The toast in my mouth turned to ash. She wanted to ensure I knew this meal was not special. It was routine for her. I was just the unwanted guest crashing their morning.

Sienna then turned her attention back to the man beside her. "Brother Damian, you promised to accompany me to sightsee around Ridgeton today. Don’t break your promise."

Damian sliced into his food, his posture relaxed and graceful. He looked at her, his stern features softening. "Okay!" he replied softly.

He effortlessly granted her every frivolous wish. Across the table, Simon stood silently in the background. He chewed his food slowly, watching the bizarre dynamic unfold like an absolute outsider. He knew better than to interfere.

I lowered my gaze to my plate, a heavy, deeply concerned frown creasing my forehead. My chest tightened until breathing became a chore. Today was not just any normal day. Today was his grandfather’s official funeral. Master Ashford had passed away, and the entire Ashford residence was plunged into mourning. If Damian abandoned his sacred familial duties for a trivial sightseeing trip with Sienna, what would become of the family’s reputation?

Losing my appetite entirely, I set my spoon down on the ceramic plate with a dull clink.

Damian finished his coffee and announced he needed to get dressed for the day. He pushed his chair back and strode out of the kitchen. I stood up and silently followed his tall figure down the hallway, trailing him into the master bedroom.

Hearing my footsteps brush against the thick carpet, Damian paused. He casually stripped off his shirt, pulling it over his head. His bare, muscular back was exposed to the cool morning air.

"Anything?" he asked with chilling indifference.

I instinctively spun around, turning my back to his exposed figure to maintain whatever shattered composure I had left. My heart pounded against my ribs. "Today’s your grandfather’s funeral!" I urged, my voice tight with desperation.

A quiet rustling of clothes filled the heavy silence of the bedroom, followed by the sharp pull of a zipper cutting through the air.

"You go then," his emotionless voice hit the air.

I scowled, genuinely horrified. I turned my head just enough to look at him over my shoulder. "Damian, he’s your grandfather."

How could he brush off such a crucial duty? The patriarch of the Ashford family was dead, and the eldest grandson and heir wanted to go play tourist.

"I already have Leo to settle the funeral, so talk to him if there’s anything else," Damian dismissed coldly, refusing to even spare me a glance as he adjusted his cuffs.

Unable to contain the raw ache in my chest any longer, my voice rose in genuine sorrow and frustration.

"Damian, aside from Sienna, is everybody replaceable to you?" I asked, my voice trembling with unshed tears. "What's your family to you?"

He immediately stopped getting dressed. Slowly, he turned around to glare at me, his dark eyes dangerously narrowed. The temperature in the room plummeted.

"Our family business is none of your concern," he sneered, his tone lethal.

He paused, letting the silence stretch for a painful second before delivering a devastating, mocking blow.

"You’re not fit to do so!"

The cruel words crashed over me like a heavy bucket of ice water, chilling me straight to the bone. I stood frozen in place as he brushed past me without a second glance. His heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, fading away into the massive, empty house.

I stood alone in the quiet bedroom, staring at the empty space he left behind. I couldn't help but laugh bitterly to myself, the broken sound echoing softly off the cold walls.

*I am not fit.*

Even after two long, agonizing years of marriage, I realized I still could not warm a heart that was as cold as ice. The despair settled deep in my stomach, heavy and rotting, bringing with it a horrific realization of my utter insignificance in this marriage. I was nothing to him. A mere placeholder in his life.

Just as I took a shaky breath to process his brutal rejection, a sinister voice echoed from behind.

"I thought you’re just shameless, yet I never imagined that you’re a busybody too," the voice sneered.

I stiffened, looking back toward the doorway.

Sienna was casually leaning against the bedroom doorframe, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. The cute, innocent facade she wore in the kitchen was stripped away. There were no wide eyes. No trembling lips. Without Damian present in the room to play an audience to her act, the mask slipped, leaving only pure, unadulterated wickedness in its wake.