Chapter 25

▫️ Christian's pov...

She started unpacking her stuff after I gave her an empty wardrobe, and here I was, leaning against the doorframe, grinding my teeth like an idiot, watching her move around. She was just tossing things into my wardrobe like she owned the damn place. I couldn’t stop staring. I mean, what else was I supposed to do?

She caught me in the act, of course, and shot me a look. "Why are you being a pervert and peeking at me?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

I smirked, completely unbothered. "Well, as you so proudly pointed out, you’re my wife. And now you’re turning my wardrobe into your personal closet. I think I’m allowed to look at my wife." I checked her out from top to bottom, giving her a slow, exaggerated once-over before meeting her eyes.

Her face went red, and without missing a beat, she threw one of her heels in my direction. "Pervert."

I chuckled, stepping back just enough to avoid the shoe. "You can throw all the heels you want, but you're still my wife, and that gives me a free pass."

She just gave me side eye and started doing her work again.

Later she finished with my wardrobe, she moved on to another closet, opening it to put her empty trolleys. Stella opened the wardrobe, her eyes widened, and her mouth hung open in shock. She stared at it for a second, then at me, like she’d just discovered a crime scene. I could feel the panic rising in me. What did she see? Did they… did they put them there? No. Fuck no. Chris, you're doomed.

I rushed over and slammed the wardrobe door shut. "Shit," I muttered under my breath, ready to come up with any excuse, but she was faster. Before I could even say anything, Stella shot me a look and asked, "Are you not straight? Do you wear them?"

I froze. "No, that’s not it," I stammered, trying to play it cool, but she wasn’t buying it. She laughed—laughed—like she had just won the lottery. "You'll look hot in lingerie," she teased with a smirk.

I raised an eyebrow, shocked, then I couldn’t hold it back anymore. "Showtime," I grinned, grabbing her by the waist and twirling her until her back hit the wardrobe and she was facing me. "They’re for you, my dear wifey," I said, patting her cheek. "Aren’t these things common in a couple’s room, baby? And you are already shifting in my room. So they are for different days, moods..."

I was about to say more, but then—boom—she kicked me straight in the balls. I went down like a sack of potatoes. "There’s no way I’m doing any sexual activity with you," she said, hands on her hips, looking down at me like I was a joke.

I groaned, clutching my crotch. "You idiot bitch."

I gasped, "What if my mom barges in here one day?" still trying to recover. "My mom, Stella. The one who loves poking her nose into my business—especially my bedroom."

She looked at me, skeptical. "Are you telling the truth? Then why the fuck you teased me showing your unholy intentions."

I pushed myself up from the floor, trying to stand tall. "You’ll see it when she shows up. Until then, don’t even think I’m interested in you. And don’t you dare touch that fucking wardrobe, got it?"

She raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Just one last question," she said, almost casually. "So, did you put them in here? I mean you...uhm...selected them at store , checked lingerie with your own hands,  looked at them?"

I was thrown off completely. "I… I asked the helpers to buy them and put them here," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck, feeling the weight of the situation.

She sighed dramatically, looking irritated. "So, that means they talk about us...you tearing up lingerie daily?" she asked, crossing her arms.

“Maybe us,” I muttered, “But it’s normal. Every couple does this stuff.”

She nodded.

Then she patted my shoulder lightly and said "Sorry, I didn't meant to kick you."

I chuckled despite the lingering pain. "This isn’t where you kicked me earlier," I teased.

She rolled her eyes and playfully slapped my shoulder. "Put the bags away, idiot. I can't stand you anymore." she ordered, marching out of the room like she owned the place.

I called, " Then sit my love." But she ignored me.

I stood there for a moment, just watching her go. As much as she got under my skin, I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe we were dysfunctional, but somehow, it felt like we were working our way through it.

But ahhh this bitch shouldn't have kicked that hard. It really hurt.