Devoted Love, Mr. Hayes’ Darling Wife

Micaela soaked in the bathtub full of hot water for who knows how long, her skin almost losing the pain, her eyes frozen and numb in the air.

The physical images tangled in her head made her feel humiliated, uncomfortable and disgusted.

He assumed Mrs. Micaela’s identity and blatantly physically cheated on her in their marriage.

Micaela hates him so much she wants to die.

If she had not driven to the police station to pick up Dario that night, wouldn’t the perpetrator have had the opportunity to take advantage of her?

If she had received a call from Dario that day and missed the appointment, none of this would have happened.

She and Darius, have long been in the crosshairs of that evil dragon of darkness, and someone has been following them and investigating them, otherwise they would not have timed it so precisely and counted her and Darius together in the abyss.

It was quite a coincidence that it was her and Darius.

If it had been anyone else, between her and Nico, it might not have been over so completely.

But Dario, from the beginning, was a thorn in Nico’s side.

Over the years, every time Dario got involved in their relationship, Nico’s jealousy would flare. Micaela knew that in Nico’s mind, Dario had always been the one who first knew his heart when he was young and ignorant, and then came between them for years, and that Dario’s identity was too sensitive and special for Nico.

But a heartbeat is not love. The person he has always favored is Nico.

But now, how could she face him with this dirty, ragged body?

This thing, whoever the evil dragon behind it was, had really happened, the images of her and Dario cheating on each other haunted her mind with nightmare-like startling clarity, and those were real, there was no escaping them.

She had told Nico that she hated people who cheated, especially people who cheated in marriage, but now, what was the difference between her and someone like Beltran?

“Ho-hum…”

Micaela laughed bitterly with pale self-deprecation, tears sliding down her cheeks in big, big gobs.

She slowly looked down at the body, rubbed red to the point of bleeding, which seemed to be crawling with foul maggots, slowly eating away at her life expectancy.

Micaela’s body sank into the tub, the hot water, slowly over her head, the suffocating sensation of extinction, surprisingly, could produce a slight sense of pleasure/calmness in such a humiliatingly imminent moment.

He closed his eyes and tried to cross himself with death.

But in the back of his mind were all the images and fragments of the seven years he had spent with Nico.

On Grape Island, they enjoyed the sun together, basked in the sea breeze, kissed passionately in the sunlight and moonlight along the bay path, walked together on the long golden sands and he said, “Micaela, you are my wife and your body and soul belong to me alone.

In the cold winter of the scattered moon, they held hands and walked together through the four deserted streets, at the end of the long street, recklessly intimate.

Under the snowy acacia, they sat on the swing and swung and swung as if they would swing into eternity.

On the wild seashore of Q City, he set off fireworks for her, and came through the flickering fireworks, more beautiful than fireworks, and asked her if she liked him or fireworks, and she smiled and said she liked both.

Fireworks … He said he was going to set off fireworks for her when he got home.

How she was going to die before those fireworks, which had not yet been expected.

Micaela struggled violently to get out of the water, splashing all over the ground, Micaela’s mouth open like a dying fish, breathing hard.

The corners of her eyes are scarlet.

She still wants to live, and is still attached to it, and its day and night.

At the moment of restoration, he said that, henceforth, she too could walk to him.

Retreating, a wedding gift to him, she thought, fading away to wash her hands.

The look of a gentle wife, and he got it.

M icaela’s eyes, unable to stop the tears, flowed as if to dry.

But this nightmare, when will she wake up?

M icaela raised her hand and turned off the shower faucet.

The world, a silence returned.

The water in the bathtub is hot and gradually getting colder.

Micaela faintly heard the sound of a car engine in the yard.

It’s Nico back.

Is he finally willing to come back and face her?

Micaela got up from the bathroom, covered in blood and somewhat bloodstained.

She dried off and put on the most conservative pajama outfit with a long top and pants that covered her entire body.

Micaela somehow managed to muster up the courage to stand in front of Nico with a good mental buildup.

He plopped down on the soft leather sofa, ignoring her, and from the cigarette case on the small table, he took out a cigarette, lit it straight and smoked it in his mouth, smoking one after the other, the butts were thrown into the ashtray in pieces, some out, the smoker, no longer patient or calm enough to speak.

Soon the house was filled with the smell of smoke.

Only when Micaela finally spoke with a dry throat, she said, “If … if you calm down, let’s talk, okay?”.

Calm down?

Which is cool.

She was cool for not killing Dario, she was cool for not strangling her on the spot, what else would be cool?

Nico looked at Micaela, who stood far away from him, with a cold strangeness in his eyes, the scarlet in the corners of his eyes was anger, and he was looking at her with such a frightening coldness that it made Micaela feel weak.

She had betrayed him, so she could not bear such a tortured and stern look from him, and her weakness was unavoidable.

“Nico, I’ve been set up. Someone kidnapped me and I…”Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

Nico kicked the coffee table in front of him and lost patience with her explanation, his eyebrows were full of impetuous hostility, staring at her with a deep, sinister look of contempt, “Design? Tell me, what could be the reason for your willingness to meet Darius?”.

“I … Dario DUI and the police department called me to bail me out, I …”

Before Micaela could finish her sentence, Nico was already yelling at her, “Who the fuck are you, Dario? Micaela, is it necessary for me to remind you one more time that you’re Ms.

Nico was so furious that he paced back and forth in front of the fallen coffee table, clenching his brow bone and saying coldly, “Do you know what it means to be Mrs.?”.

Nico snarled at him, the man’s eyes were scarlet, his gaze bloodthirsty as if he wanted to kill.

His voice was so loud he screamed and Micaela’s back shivered unconsciously and she burst into tears, “I know, I’m sorry Nico, I’m sorry… but I really didn’t think this would happen…. Nico… me…”

Explain? She didn’t know how to explain anymore.

How to explain, she’s already dirty.

A thousand words spilled out, but in the end only the last one came out, “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry, Nico, I’m really sorry…”.

It’s all her fault.

Micaela blames herself to no end.

If she had been given another chance, she wouldn’t have gone to see Dario. She thought a gentleman’s friendship was as light as water and she wasn’t afraid of being criticized, so she acted frankly and fearlessly.

But if she had known it would all end like this, she would never have gone to see Darius, he would not have got drunk and driven, she would have returned to England with a slight regret at not seeing her, and none of this would have happened.

But there were no buts and no turning back, and Micaela stood there, covered in ice, unable to do anything but say she was sorry and shed tears.

Even just taking a few steps forward to hold Nico’s hand was not something she dared to do now.

Because he was afraid of him and felt disgusted.

Nico wiped his face hard with both hands, and felt distracted as he watched the tears still streaming down her face.

It hurts to see her cry, but so does the anger, and there is no reason to turn off the anger and hatred that now burns in him.

Nico strides into the checkroom and comes back out pushing a hanger on which, hanging, is a white wedding dress.

Nico looked at it with an expressionless face and said, “Do you know why I’m going to Europe on business this time?”.

Nico reached over to the little table and picked up a cigarette butt that hadn’t quite gone out and a match.

He continued without emotion, “Just to surprise you. This wedding dress, which I auctioned in France for three thousand dollars, is unique in the world because Mrs. Micaela deserves the best.”

Micaela bit her lip and looked at the wedding dress, her heart dripping blood like a knife.

Nico moved the match closer to the glowing scarlet match, the man’s face was cold and seething as he said, “Micaela, do you know how I felt when I came back in this wedding dress only to see you sleeping in the same bed with another man?”

That lit match, slowly approaching the expensive couture wedding dress.

Micaela became alarmed, “Nico, what are you going to do…”

The fire, burning, broke the wedding dress, which, slowly growing, illuminated the entire dimly lit room.

The tears on Micaela’s face were also illuminated by this flame.

In the glow of the fire, Nico threw the match away, stared at her and said, “Now I feel that this wedding dress, it’s over, it’s all over. micaela, you have not only ruined yourself, you have completely and utterly ruined me.”

The emotion on his face, grim and cold and terrible, his gaze, without a trace of warmth, was like that of a shura demon, and Micaela could even see that behind him black wings of sin had opened.

One Nico, as if from the abyss.

“Nico…”

Nico said indifferently and cruelly, “Don’t call me that, you don’t deserve it. This wedding dress, you don’t deserve it either.”

The deepest, most undignified unworthiness.

Micaela seemed to fall into the dust, humble as a grain of sand on the sole of her shoe, to be swept away/thrown away.

Micaela opened her dry, chapped lips to call out to him, but could not. Now, even saying his name would make her feel unimaginably dirty, wouldn’t it?

But what could be done to ease their relationship, now so hard and filled with anger?

Micaela tugged at the corners of her lips and said softly, “Yes, if you don’t want to see me now, I can walk away.”

Until she calmed down.

Stay away.

This sentence, completely infuriated Nico.

The man approaches her in long strides and Micaela unconsciously takes a step back, Nico already has her by the wrist and pulls her body hard towards the edge of the sofa.

Micaela dropped onto the couch.

Nico grabbed her by the neck and questioned her uncontrollably, “Moving out? Tell me, where are you moving to? Micaela, why are you such a bitch?”

Tears, silently welling up from the corners of her eyes, Micaela cried and shook her head, “I didn’t…. Nico… I really didn’t … I didn’t go to Dario.”

Inch by inch, Nico’s five fingers tightened around her slender neck, really wanting to finish her off with his bare hands, and if strangling her was the end of this whole nightmare, he really didn’t mind carrying Micaela’s life on his back.

He had never felt so conflicted, paradoxically, wanting to strangle this woman and intolerant to the extreme.

The force between her neck was increasing, little by little, and Micaela was about to lose the instinct to breathe, the suffocation was unbearable, but Micaela did not resist.

If Nico strangled her now, she would admit it, and maybe she would get a shred of relief from this death.

She slowly closed her eyes, tears spilling from the corners.

Nico finally, sighing and dropping his head on her neck, said in a hoarse, tired, desperate voice, “Micaela, I want to strangle you to death.”

He was on the point of strangling her, but in the end he could not.

What is love and what is hate, Nico no longer knows.