[BL] A Marriage Ruled by Family, Saved by Desire-Chapter 58: Sent Away by My Own Husband

~Alistair’s POV~

"You did nothing wrong, Alis," he said quietly, a trace of pain flickering in his eyes. "Maybe I would have done worse if I were in your place. But I need this. I need time to sort things out in my head. So for now... go."

I nodded, though the ache in my chest made it hard to breathe.

I opened the door and stepped out into the cold night air, the sound of the car door closing behind me feeling like the end of a Chapter I wasn’t ready to finish.

The driver followed behind me, carrying my bags with slow, heavy steps. I stood in front of my parents’ house for a long moment, swallowing the lump in my throat as I forced my expression to steady. Then, gathering what little courage I had left, I raised my hand and knocked on the door.

When the door opened, my mother stood there, her eyes widening in surprise. I quickly forced a bright, practiced smile onto my face.

"Surprise!" I said lightly, though even to my own ears, my voice sounded thin.

"Alistair!" she exclaimed, rushing forward and pulling me into a tight hug. "You didn’t even tell me you were coming. What a wonderful surprise!"

"I wanted to see your face," I lied, the guilt gnawing at my stomach.

She ushered me inside, and the driver followed, setting my luggage down with a respectful bow before slipping back out into the night. As the front door clicked shut, the reality of my exile settled over me. My mother led me to the sofa, clutching my hand as we sat.

"I’ve missed you so much, darling," she said, her eyes searching mine.

"Don’t worry, Mom," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I’m not rushing back this time. I’m going to spend a lot more time with you."

She laughed softly, a knowing glint in her eyes. "That’s what you always say. Then, tomorrow morning, Alex will call and you’ll be at the door saying, ’Mom, I have to go, my husband needs me...’"

"No, Mother," I interrupted, perhaps a bit too quickly. "I’m staying here for a while. Truly."

The laughter died in her eyes, replaced by a flicker of maternal intuition. She tilted her head, her gaze becoming focused. "Is everything... alright between you and Alex?"

"Yes," I replied, the word tasting like ash. "Everything is perfectly fine."

She didn’t look convinced. A hint of worry crept into her expression as she patted my hand. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

"Well, if you say so," she said gently. "Go upstairs and freshen up, dear. I’ll set the table so you can have a proper meal."

"No, Mom, I’m not hungry," I said, standing up before she could push further. "I think I just need to rest. I’ll eat in the morning, I promise."

She stood with me, her brow still furrowed. "Are you sure, Alistair? Are you sure you and Alex are okay?"

I forced one last smile, though it felt as if my face might crack from the strain. "Yes, Mom. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m going upstairs to rest."

I turned and headed for my bedroom, feeling her eyes on my back every step of the way. I knew she didn’t believe me, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words out loud: that my husband had sent me away, and I didn’t know if he was ever coming back for me.

Once upstairs, I showered and changed into my nightclothes, but instead of getting into bed, I sat on the edge of it, clutching my phone. I was waiting. Every second felt like an hour as I stared at the screen, praying for a sign that Alex had changed his mind, or that he at least still cared where I was.

Two hours passed in a deafening silence before the screen finally lit up.

Alex: I’m home.

That was it, no "baby," just three cold, distant words. My heart felt as if it were being squeezed in a vise.

Alis: Okay, baby.

Alex: How is your mom?

Alis: She’s fine.

Alex: Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight.

Alis: Goodnight, baby.

The chat ended there. I stared at the word "Goodnight" until the screen slowly dimmed to black.

He hadn’t asked if I’d eaten. He hadn’t asked if I was okay.

The man who used to worry if I skipped even a small snack now couldn’t bring himself to check on me at all.

The night stretched on, and sleep felt like a distant, impossible dream. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the space beside me where Alex should have been. The silence of my room was suffocating. Finally, unable to take it anymore, I typed out a message.

Alis: Are you sleeping?

I waited. One minute turned into five, then ten. No reply. The "Read" receipt didn’t even appear. My anxiety spiked, and before I could talk myself out of it, I pressed the call button.

It rang four times before he finally picked up. The silence on the other end was heavy.

"Baby?" I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears. "I... I really miss having you beside me. The bed feels too big."

I waited for him to soften, for him to tell me he missed me too, but his voice was flat and tired. "Alis, why aren’t you sleeping?"

"I told you... I miss you," I said, a sob catching in my throat.

"Let’s talk tomorrow, Alis," he replied, his tone dismissive. "I want to sleep."

"Okay, baby," I murmured. But before the last word could leave my lips, the line went dead. He had already hung up.

I dropped the phone onto the mattress, shaking my head in disbelief. A bitter realization slowly settled in, I couldn’t keep up this act anymore. Tomorrow, I would have to tell my mother the truth. Even if she blamed me, even if she pointed out every one of my mistakes, I needed a solution before this "space" between us turned into "forever."

I wasn’t the only one at fault. Alex had allowed this chaos into our lives by being too weak to stand up to his mother’s schemes. So why was I the only one suffering now that the truth had finally come out?

I tossed and turned in bed, the silence of my room pressing down on me like a heavy weight, until exhaustion finally pulled me into a restless, uneasy sleep.

The next morning, the sharp trill of my phone jolted me awake. I grabbed it quickly, my heart leaping with the hope that it was Alex calling. But when I looked at the screen, his mother’s name flashed instead.

I slowly sat up in bed and cleared my throat before answering.

"Good morning, Mom," I said, my voice raspy.

"Good morning, son. How was your night?" she asked.

"It was... a night," I replied, unable to bring myself to say I was fine.

"Is Alex there with you? I need to speak with him," she said tentatively.

I took a deep breath. "He isn’t here," I said, then went on to explain. "After we left the house yesterday, Alex drove me straight to my parents’ place. That’s where I am now."

The silence on the other end stretched long and heavy, as if the full weight of what she had done was finally sinking in.

"Oh, Alistair... I’m so sorry," she replied, her voice thick with regret. "I never meant for things to go this far. This is all my fault."

"It’s fine, Mom," I sighed, though it wasn’t. "But right now, all I care about is saving my home. Alex has never been this angry with me. Not in seven years."

"I’ll do something, I promise," she assured me. "If I can’t reach him today, I’ll go to him tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is our seventh anniversary," I reminded her, my chest tightening. "I don’t even know if he’ll celebrate it with me."

"I raised that boy, Alistair," she said gently. "No matter how angry he is, he won’t ignore your anniversary. I’ll talk to him and call you back as soon as I can get through to him."

"Okay, Mom. Thank you."

The moment the call ended, my bedroom door flew open. My mother stood there, her expression a mix of shock and rising anger.

"What did I just hear?" she demanded sharply.

"Mom, please... Calm down—"

"Calm down?" she snapped. "Your husband sent you back to your parents’ house? Do you have any idea what that means, Alistair? The shame of it? The kind of message that sends to people?"

"It’s not all my fault!" I snapped, the stress of the last forty-eight hours finally bubbling over. "Alex is the one to blame for this mess. I don’t even know how it ended up like this, I didn’t do anything wrong, Mom, you have to believe me. He just... sent me away, saying he needed space."

My mother stared at me in disbelief. "What? He sent you back here and you didn’t tell me the moment you arrived?"

"I’m sorry, Mom," I said quietly, lowering my gaze.

My mother walked over and sat heavily on the edge of the bed, her eyes fixed on me with that terrifyingly sharp parental gaze. "Fine," she said, her voice dropping to a low, serious tone. "Then start talking. Tell me exactly what happened. Every word, Alistair. Start now."