[BL] A Marriage Ruled by Family, Saved by Desire-Chapter 37: The Mother-in-Law’s Watchful Eyes

Chapter 37: Chapter 37: The Mother-in-Law’s Watchful Eyes

~Alistair’s POV~

But today, I felt nothing but a cold, hard resolve. I didn’t feel bad for being harsh. If anything, he should be grateful I was still in this house at all.

I moved through the room like a ghost, ignoring the way Alex hovered near the doorway, watching my every move with the desperate eyes of a man seeking a pardon. I didn’t want to make this easy for him.

I began to undress with agonizing slowness, letting my robe slide down my arms and pool at my feet. I stood there, completely naked in the center of the room, feeling the weight of his gaze like a physical touch. I turned slightly, catching his reflection in the mirror; his eyes were fixed on my body. The second our eyes met through the glass, he jerked his head away, flushing a deep crimson, and retreated.

I stepped into the bathroom, taking my time. The steam curled around me as the warm water rinsed away the remnants of last night. When I finally stepped out, I was soaked from head to toe. I deliberately ignored the towel rack, letting the droplets trace slow paths down my skin as I made my way back into the bedroom.

The instant Alex saw me, his expression froze, like he’d been hit. He snatched a towel and rushed over, moving with a mix of urgency and caution. "Babe, you’ll catch a cold," he murmured, pressing it into my hands.

I took it from him slowly, my fingers brushing his as I dried my skin with lazy, deliberate motions. When I reached for the hair dryer, Alex was there in a heartbeat, gently taking it from my hands. I sat down in the chair by the mirror, letting him take over.

He dried my hair with a tenderness that almost made me crumble, his fingers stroking through my damp strands as if I were made of glass.

Once I was dry, I stood up and took my time with my skincare, layering on my creams while Alex watched me, his breath hitching every time I leaned forward. Finally, I reached for the clothes he had laid out for me.

"Alis?" he murmured, his voice cracking as I reached for my belt. "Do you... Do you want me to help you?"

"No," I said quietly. "I can handle it." My voice was as cold and distant as the morning air.

By the time we stepped out of the house, the tension between us had thickened to an almost unbearable level.

The driver was already waiting. We slid into the backseat, the stretch of leather between us feeling wider than it was, like an ocean neither of us knew how to cross. Alex kept shifting beside me, his leg brushing mine now and then by accident, but each time it happened, I edged closer to the window, putting as much distance between us as the seat would allow.

The driver kept his eyes fixed on the road, no doubt aware of the charged tension crackling between us in the backseat.

Whenever Alex opened his mouth to try to break the silence, I stared out the window, acting as if he were a ghost I couldn’t hear. Eventually, he gave up, his shoulders slumping as we turned onto the long private road leading to his parents’ estate.

As the iron gates creaked open and the car came to a smooth stop in the driveway, I reached for the door handle.

"Alistair." Alex’s voice stopped me, thin and worn at the edges. "I promise... I’ll follow every step of the plan. I’ll do exactly what you asked. But please... can you ease up on me just a little? If I’m too afraid to even meet your eyes, how are we supposed to face the truth together?"

I turned my head slowly, meeting his desperate gaze with eyes that felt like flint. "Why are you scared now, Alex? You weren’t afraid when you went behind my back and dragged us into this disaster. You didn’t fear me then, so don’t use that as an excuse now."

He opened his mouth to plead his case, but I raised a sharp hand, cutting the air between us.

"Focus on why we’re here," I said, my voice dropping to a low, warning chill. "Don’t waste your time thinking I’m going to soften for you. Until every lie is stripped away and the truth is laid out, don’t even think about it."

Without waiting for his response, I pushed the door open and stepped out into the crisp air of the estate, leaving him to scramble after me.

I marched toward the house, my heels clicking sharply against the stone, the sound of his hurried footsteps echoing behind me. Before we could even reach for the handle, the door swung open; the maid had been waiting.

We stepped into the grand foyer, and I kept my head high as the driver brought our bags in behind us.

When we entered the living room, Alex’s mother and Sarah were already seated, arranged like a portrait of perfect innocence. I slipped on a mask of calm, feigning ignorance of the storm simmering beneath the surface. Alex’s mother rose at once, her face brightening with a sweetness so polished it felt rehearsed.

"Son, you’re here!" she chirped, pulling me into a tight hug before doing the same to Alex. She turned back to me, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "How was the journey? Come, sit by me, Alis."

She patted the spot beside her on the sofa, playing the role of the doting mother-in-law with practiced ease. As she fussed over me, the maid stepped forward to carry our luggage upstairs. Alex gripped his laptop bag, ready to follow, when his mother abruptly shifted her attention to Sarah.

"Sarah, dear, why don’t you help Alex carry that to the room?" she suggested, her eyes gleaming with a hidden agenda.

"No, Mom, I’ve got it," Alex said quickly, his voice stiff.

His mother insisted, her tone sharpening slightly under the guise of being helpful, but Alex didn’t budge. He stood his ground, his hands tightening on the strap of his bag, fingers tense as he held firm. "I’ll go up later, when Alis is ready to settle in."

Seeing his resistance, she finally let it go, waving us off so we could "refresh ourselves" before dinner.

Once we were alone in the hallway on our way to the room, Alex leaned close, his words low and cautious. "My father won’t be back until tomorrow." I gave a small nod, my thoughts already racing far ahead.

We remained in our room until the maid returned to announce that dinner was ready. Reluctantly, we went downstairs. The meal was nothing short of torture. Sitting at the table with Sarah and Alex’s mother, the subtle manipulations started almost immediately.

"Sarah, put some of that fish on Alex’s plate," his mother commanded. "Sarah, make sure Alex tries the soup, he looks so thin."

Sarah obeyed with a smug, proprietary smile, piling food onto Alex’s plate as if she were already the lady of his house. Alex didn’t touch a single bite she served him. Eventually, he pushed his chair back, the screech of wood against the floor punctuating the tension.

"I’m full," he snapped, standing up and walking away from the table without a backward glance.

The silence that followed was heavy. Alex’s mother watched him leave, then slowly turned her gaze toward me. Her expression shifted, becoming grave and unnervingly serious.

"Alistair, son," she said softly, setting her linen napkin down. "After we are finished here, I have something very important to discuss with you."

I met her gaze, my face a perfect, unreadable mask. "Okay, Mom."

The meal ended in a heavy, suffocating silence. I was the first to rise from the table, moving toward the lounge to find Alex, but the room was empty. I climbed the stairs, and the moment I pushed our bedroom door open, there he was. Alex flinched and quickly turned away, hastily wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, clearly having sought refuge here just to let himself break.

He stood up the second he saw me, his voice thick. "Babe? Do you... do you need anything?"

"What are you doing up here, Alex?" I asked, my voice level.

"I just... I came to pick up my..." He tried to find a lie, his eyes darting around the room, but the words died in his throat. He fell silent, looking utterly defeated.

"Let’s go downstairs," I told him, stepping aside to let him pass. "Your mother said she has something to tell me, and I want you there to hear every word of it."

Alex nodded, his face drained of color, and trailed behind me. In the living room, Sarah was seated on the sofa beside my mother-in-law, a faint, victorious smirk tugging at her lips. "Perfect timing, Alex," Alex’s mom said smoothly."

We took our seats across from them. Alex’s mother leaned forward, her face carefully composed in a mask of maternal concern. "Alistair," she began, her tone measured, "there are things you need to know tonight. Everything I’m about to say comes from a place of wanting only what’s best for Alex. I hope, by the end of this, you’ll understand that."

Beside me, Alex trembled, his panic radiating through the space between us. His hand, resting on the cushion, shook uncontrollably. He looked like a man watching his world teeter on the edge of a cliff, waiting for his mother to deliver the final push. Each breath came in short, uneven gasps, his gaze glued to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to witness the unraveling of his home.

I couldn’t help it. Despite my anger, despite the distance I had kept, I reached out and laced my fingers with his, squeezing firmly. I turned to him for a split second, a silent command for him to stay grounded, to stay calm.

Alex’s mother noticed the movement, her eyes flickering down to our joined hands with a flash of irritation before she smoothed her features.