The CEO’S Orphan Wife

“You and your girlfriend always seem to be having disagreements.”

I glanced at my older sister, who had suddenly appeared behind me. I stood on the balcony, trying to regain composure after yet another argument with Maureen. It’s always like this. It feels like just a week ago when we last fought.

A sigh escaped me as I redirected my attention to the garden. I lifted the beer bottle in my hand to take a sip, deciding to remain silent. No words came to mind. What my sister said was true. It’s always like this. Maureen’s immaturity remains consistent; it feels as if she hasn’t experienced any personal growth since we entered into a relationship years ago.

Whenever we argue, I choose to ignore her because I don’t want to say anything hurtful. Besides, the next day, she’ll apologize to me.

We’re already adults, but it feels like she’s still in high school, not maturing at all. But despite that, I love her. Everyone has flaws.

“Think about it while it’s early. She’s not the marrying type, Ivan.”

I grinned and shook my head.

“What?!” my sister slapped my arm in annoyance. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of marrying her!”

Not yet. But if we’re still together in two years, why not marry her?

“You’re going to regret it, Ivan. Your life will just be ruined!”

I didn’t pay much attention to what my sister was saying. My intentions with Maureen are serious; I am not in this relationship to fool around.

“If you’re thinking about marriage, Myla would be a better choice.”

“Are you bluffing?” I laughed. “Myla is just a kid.”

She’s referring to the daughter of our parents’ friends. Her parents died in a plane crash, and since she had no relatives, my mom and dad took her in. I chuckled at my sister because Myla was still so young.

“I’m not a pedophile, Sis.”

“What do you mean, pedophile? Myla is nineteen. And she’s much kinder and more sensible than Maureen, who does nothing but pick fights with you! Have some pity on yourself. The least she could give you is stress because you’re handling a big company.”

“Let it be, Sis. That’s just how Maureen is, but she really loves me.”

My sister let out a frustrated groan.

“Hence, I never envisioned Myla as my wife. She’s too young,” I chuckled, shaking my head.

It wasn’t only my sister who suggested that Myla and I were a good match; numerous others were too. Even my college classmates used to comment on our compatibility. People had taken notice of her even before she moved into our house. Our families used to gather frequently when their parents were still alive.

She’s beautiful, but I didn’t perceive her as a woman; I saw her as a child.

“What do you mean, ‘young’? She’s already an adult. And even Mom and Dad like Myla for you. The girl obviously likes you.”

I bristled at that comment. Did Myla purposefully tell my parents about this so that they would help her convince me about her?

“I don’t want to talk about it, Sis. I have a girlfriend, and I love her.”

The next day, Maureen came to my office. As usual, she was trying to make amends.

“Sorry,” she said, attempting to be affectionate. She brought a lot of food cooked by her mom.

“I told you I’m busy, didn’t I?”

“Fine. I can’t resist you either.”

“I’ll think about whether I’ll accept your apology.”

Maureen initially frowned, but soon a playful smile graced her lips. Rising from her seat, she perched herself on my lap.

“Allow me to help you ponder,” she chuckled, initiating a sensual connection. After a disagreement, makeup sex was the best.

***

“I’m weary of constantly fighting with her.”

I’m at the bar with my friends. Maureen and I had another argument. I’m worn out by her attitude.

“But you love her,” my friends commented. How many times have they consoled me when Maureen and I clashed? Numerous times.

“Just a piece of advice, man. Reflect on it. Maureen might not be the best fit for you. Imagine coming home after a tough day at work-do you really want to deal with a nagging and moody wife? Maybe being single is a better option than having a partner like that, don’t you think?”

I chose to stay quiet and signaled for another set of drinks as my glass approached emptiness.

If we don’t reconcile soon and if Maureen doesn’t change, I’ll take these signs as indications that she’s not meant for me.

My friends dropped me off at our house. I couldn’t drive anymore due to excessive drinking.

I tripped as I entered the house, struggling to make out my surroundings in the dim light.

“Are you okay?” asked a gentle voice. Due to my drunkenness, I didn’t even recognize her.

She tried to help me and supported me even though my body was heavy.

Do we have a new helper? Who is this?

“Alright, take it slow; we might trip.”

Who is she? I attempted to gaze at the woman’s face, but my eyelids were growing heavy.

“We’re almost in your room.”

She shrieked as I tumbled onto the bed, pulling her along with me.

Her aroma was enchanting, and I adored the fragrance she exuded. My awareness of my actions was faint, and I couldn’t determine who initiated the kiss, but that detail no longer held any significance.

But who is this person I’m kissing? Did I bring a girl from the club?

I was about to rouse the woman lying next to me when the full realization of my actions struck me.

Shit! It’s Myla! Myla is here in bed with me. She’s naked. We’re both naked!

I tried to wake her up to guide her out of my room when the door suddenly opened, and my mom entered. Witnessing the scene, she let out a scream and quickly called my dad. In no time, they both reached the consensus that I should marry Myla.

Myla was crying, repeatedly apologizing to my parents. Although she offered multiple apologies to me, I responded with a stern gaze instead.

She orchestrated this; I’m sure of it!

She had the audacity because she was aware of my family’s affection for her. Myla and I tied the knot right away. I couldn’t protest because my parents paid no heed to my objections.

Shit! Maureen. What am I going to do?

“It’s your fault too, buddy,” Angus said.

“I was so drunk! Tsk! You shouldn’t have brought me home.”

They chuckled. “Myla is genuinely kind. She’s wife material.”

“I don’t love her.”

“You’ll eventually learn to love her.”

I doubt it.

“Come on, you don’t truly love Maureen that much.” I stayed silent regarding Caius’s remarks.

“You’re not that committed to her. You’ve just grown accustomed to her because of the long time you’ve been together, but you don’t love her that deeply.”

“You’re just lamenting the years you’ve shared.”

I do love Maureen. But I comprehend why they’re saying this.

During the numerous times, Maureen and I had heated arguments, there were occasions when I drank excessively. There were times I woke up next to another woman. Yeah, there were moments when I sought comfort in someone else. And I didn’t even feel guilty about it.

***

Maureen was seething with anger upon learning about the situation. I had headaches due to all that was unfolding. Myla was attempting to fulfill her wifely duties, while Maureen had confronted the issue of multiple times. She was extremely upset and cried non-stop. But what else could I do?

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?!”

I genuinely want to console her, but what other options do I have? I’m already married. Moreover, my parents warned me of dire consequences if I were to mistreat Myla.

***

“Maureen, what are you doing here?” Once again, she came to my office, but this time, a smile graced her face, replacing the anger and tears she displayed in the preceding days.

“Were you planning to annul your marriage with Myla someday?”

Maybe. Once the company was transferred to my name or when my parents saw that Myla and I were not meant for each other.

Maureen and I made a deal. I told her to go abroad because if my family discovered that she kept coming to my office, I would lose the company. It took a lot of effort and a lengthy courtship before I convinced her.

I also promised her I would file for an annulment so that I could marry her later on.

***

Every night, I returned home late to find Myla patiently waiting for me in the living room, already asleep.

Whenever she woke up, a smile adorned her face as she inquired about my meal. There was never a trace of complaints regarding my late arrivals, and she never nagged me.

Despite her efforts, I remained indifferent. Our sleeping arrangements were separate-she slept on the sofa, and I claimed the bed as my own. Early each morning, she would rise to prepare my meals, only for me to disregard them. She also took the time to organize my suits and occasionally sent my lunch to the office, leaving it with my secretary since she wasn’t allowed to enter.

Upon my return home, she would inquire with sweetness, “Did you finish the food I prepared for you?”

She wore a genuine smile, wearing a nice dress.

Regrettably, my response was consistent. “No. My secretary ate it.”

She nodded sadly.

“Tss! Didn’t I tell you not to bother cooking for me? Don’t you have anything else to do?!” Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.

“I-I’m sorry, Ivan. I just thought you might be busy with work and could have forgotten to eat, so I sent it to you. Besides, it’s our monthsary today…”

“Monthsary?” I chuckled. “That’s for couples, Myla. It’s not applicable to us because I don’t have feelings for you. We’re not a couple. You’re just a woman desperate to play a role as my wife.”

***

In the morning, Myla was nowhere to be seen, but my clothes were laid out and ready. As I left the house, there was no Myla waiting to remind me to eat breakfast before heading to work.

I didn’t bother searching for her; instead, I went straight inside.

Perhaps she had finally reconsidered things. I hoped she would also approach my parents about annulling our marriage. I believed my parents would be open to hearing her out.

My day was hectic. If Fourth and Huxley hadn’t shown up at five-thirty in the afternoon, I would have continued working without a break. As was our routine, we indulged in some drinks before heading home. There was no urgency to return early, a circumstance that might have been different if Myla and I had a child waiting for me.

What? What the hell?! What am I thinking?

We opted for a newly opened bar and restaurant, avoiding a club to prevent my sister from fetching me.

Upon reaching the venue, I turned off my phone; Maureen’s repetitive and tiresome calls had become too much.

“Is that Myla?” Fourth inquired.

I glanced lazily in the direction of his gaze. Indeed, it was Myla, accompanied by another woman.

“Hmmm. Looks like someone’s wife knows how to party, huh?”

I observed Myla. Her hair looked flawlessly styled as though she had just left the salon specifically for this event and was dressed in a stunning red bodycon dress.

Engaged in conversation with another woman, I couldn’t discern the topic of discussion. I didn’t recognize the woman either. Myla had only a few friends from college, some of whom I knew.

Soon, two men approached. Myla and her companion rose to exchange greetings with them.

Was she here for work?

She wore a smile while conversing, and so did the two men.Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

Had it not been for my friends’ laughter, I might not have realized that I fixed my complete attention on Myla.

“Are you jealous?”

I furrowed my brow. “She’s free to do whatever she wants. It’s good that she goes out. It helps her see that I’m not the only man in the world.”

Myla and her companion left the restaurant earlier. After thirty minutes, my friends also decided to head home.

“Let’s just go home. We have someone here who really wanted to check if his wife was already home.”

I refrained from commenting. I also can’t comprehend why I hurried to get home. Upon arriving, I rushed upstairs to the room, but she wasn’t there. The laundry basket was empty. Hasn’t she returned home yet?

Damn! I descended and fetched a beer from the kitchen. Maybe I shouldn’t have come home so soon. I’m irritated.

As I made my way back to the room, a noise caught my attention, coming from the laundry room.

Has she come back?

I peeked inside and spotted the woman I had been searching for. She had changed into different clothes, sitting by the washing machine, sipping on a beer, and singing a melancholic tune.

“You are free now, you can do everything you want,” she sang.

She wiped away her tears, took a sip from her bottle, and let out a sigh. Not wanting her to notice me, I left immediately.

The following morning, there was no breakfast prepared for me, but my clothes were neatly laid out. She wasn’t home at that time; perhaps she had important matters to attend to, explaining her early leave. I remained clueless about her activities, uncertain about her employment status, and curious about the work she was engaged in.

She didn’t work at my company, even though my parents had suggested it. Despite their recommendation, she declined.