Not Your Weak Wife Anymore

“Mom!”

The familiar voice cut through the storm. Strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me close, shielding me from the pounding rain. I felt the sudden shift of air as he held something above us—an umbrella, maybe, though I could not see it. All I knew was the warmth of his embrace and the relief of a voice that still called me mother.

“Why are you out here? It’s pouring!” Sebastian’s voice was bright with concern, the kind I had been starving for inside that cold mansion. His hug was firm, almost desperate, as if afraid I might vanish if he let go.

For the first time in days, my trembling eased. “Sebastian…” My lips quivered.

Sebastian. My son. Emily’s twin brother.

Where Emily had stayed glued to her father’s side, dressed in silks and pearls, groomed to inherit Carlisle’s world, Sebastian had always been different. He was reckless, wild, the boy who came home with bruises and busted lips from street fights. Carlisle despised him for it. I still remembered the day Carlisle expelled him from that prestigious boarding school with dormitories, saying he wasn’t worth the Huxley name.

But he was worth everything to me.

“Come on, Mom. Let’s get you out of the rain.” He tucked me against him, guiding me carefully down the slippery street. His grip was strong, steady. My hand brushed against the cold handle of the suitcase, and he carried it for me without a word.

He led me into a coffee shop, its door creaking as warmth wrapped around me. The hum of chatter, clinking cups, and the sharp aroma of roasted beans greeted us. He found us a corner seat and ordered something—I could smell the bitter steam of coffee when it arrived.

“Why would you wander outside in the rain like that?” Sebastian’s voice was edged with worry as he pushed the warm cup toward me. “You’ll get sick, Mom.”

I cupped the mug, letting the heat seep into my frozen fingers. For the first time in so long, I felt cared for. “I… I didn’t know where else to go.”

He sighed. Then, hesitantly, he cleared his throat. “Oh, by the way, Mom… could you give me my allowance in advance this week? Dad finally went insane—he even cut off my credit card. I’m stuck.”

My chest tightened. “Sebastian…” I hesitated. “I do have some money, but we should budget carefully. Things aren’t the same anymore.”

He waved off my worry, his tone light. “Don’t stress, Mom. Maybe next month he’ll restore it. It’s just temporary.”

I forced a smile, but unease gnawed at me.

Then his voice shifted, curious. “By the way, why do you have a suitcase with you? Are you going somewhere?”

The warmth of the mug turned heavy in my hands. “I… was kicked out of the house.”

Sebastian chuckled faintly. “What, another one of Dad’s phases?”

I shook my head. My throat tightened until the words scraped out, raw and painful. “No. We’re divorced now, Sebastian.”

Silence. Then a sharp intake of breath. “W-What…?”

“And your father…” I steadied myself, though my voice cracked. “He’s getting remarried. Soon.”

I waited for comfort, for the embrace of my son. Instead, his voice exploded across the table. “No! What about my money then?!”

The words stabbed me, sharper than any knife.

“Mom, you can’t just accept this! You should beg! Do something!”

“B-Beg...?” My voice trembled, the anger rising with my grief. “How many times do you want me to beg, Sebastian? I begged your father, his parents, even you children. I’m so tired already!”

But he didn’t stop. His voice turned desperate, urgent. “I don’t care. Mom, I need money! My life depends on it! I’m begging you—just this once—”

“Enough!” My palm slammed against the table, rattling the cup. My whole body shook. “Get out!”

“Mom—”

“I said get the hell out!” Tears streamed down my face. “I thought you were different, Sebastian. I was the only one on your side. I helped you when no one else would. I believed in you… But I overestimated you. You’re just like the rest of them.”

His voice cracked, small. “M-Mom—”

“I don’t want to hear you anymore. Leave me alone.”

A cough ripped through me, shaking my chest. He reached to steady me, but I slapped his hand away.

“Go. While I still have an ounce of patience left.”

For the first time, Sebastian was silent. Truly silent.

Then his footsteps faded, and I was alone again.

I left the café, dragging my suitcase behind me. The world outside blurred in rain and grief. My chest felt torn open, every step heavier than the last. I had no strength left.

What had I expected from Sebastian? He was still Carlisle’s son. A Huxley by blood.

I stumbled across the street, deaf to the blaring horns. Tires screeched, voices cursed, but I barely flinched. My body moved on its own, numb and broken.

Until suddenly, my fingers brushed emptiness.

The ground beneath me shifted—the edge of a bridge. My palms gripped the cold metal rail, slick with rain. I leaned forward. The void called to me, a dark whisper.

Maybe it would be easier.

Maybe the world would be better without me.

Then—hands seized me, dragging me back.

“Are you insane?!” a man’s voice shouted.

I let out a broken laugh, my lips trembling. “I wish I were.”

I struggled against his grip, my suitcase slipping from my fingers. “Let me go. I don’t want to live anymore. I have nothing left.”

“There’s so much left in life, lady,” he said firmly, breathless from holding me.

“Fuck that life,” I spat, my voice breaking. “There’s no life for blind people like me!”

Desperation surged. I bit his arm, hard, tasting blood. His grip faltered. I tore free, stumbling toward the edge.

But before I could take another step, something slammed against the back of my neck. A sharp blow.

“I’m sorry… but I can’t let you do this.”

Pain flared—then nothing.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

I woke to a voice. Low. Smooth. Dripping with foreign warmth.

“Por fin despiertas, mi amor.”

My breath hitched. Mi amor??

It was a Spanish word I’d only ever heard on TV. It meant my love.

Where the hell was I? And why was I hearing Spanish?

And more importantly, why was someone calling me my love?