Six Years of Sexless Marriage, My Devout Husband's Hidden Family

Kierra's POV

I didn’t look up.

Francis paused for a beat, his voice heavy with guilt. But I wasn’t buying it.

“Probably some occult group kidnapped him,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless. “I heard they starved him for three days before he passed. When I found him, vultures had already picked him apart, and his bones... were treated like some ritual offering.”

He finished speaking and handed me a small, weathered photo of Percy taken before he died.

“Please accept my condolences,” he added, his voice too smooth, like it was rehearsed.

I calmly looked up at him. There were fresh, suspicious red marks on his neck, like a cruel joke reminding me just how foolish I was.

The mockery felt like a slap to my face.

For six years, I had played the dutiful wife, accepting a marriage without intimacy to stay close to him.

Every night, he claimed to be lost in worship, kneeling and praying for his 'supreme higher being,' but all I could think was that he was probably with Natasha.

Last night, he didn’t come home.

Of course, he didn’t. He had stayed in Silverstone with her.

He had no clue. No clue that I had already cremated Percy, his ashes quietly resting in my hands now, a painful reminder of everything I’d lost.

For days, I had been losing my mind.

I called the police, hired private investigators, and threw money at the problem as if it could bring him back. Exhausted and delirious, my body finally gave out, burning with fever.

And that was the day I was admitted to the hospital…

This was the first time Francis showed me the first flicker of tenderness I'd ever seen from him.

“Why don't you take a rest first, Kierra?” Francis asked in feigned concern, his words almost foreign to me. “I’ll take care of everything. I’ll find Percy. I’ll bring him home.”

But now? He handed me a broken photo of Percy as if somehow it would replace my son.

I wanted to laugh, but the tears burned my eyes.

“Francis, did you really treat Percy like your own child?” My voice cracked, but I couldn’t stop myself.

He froze for a moment, then nodded, convinced of his lies. "Certainly. We've maintained a celibate marriage, and Percy is our sole child.”

I laughed, though it wasn’t a sound of joy. It was bitter and cold.

He never even wanted to touch me.

So, how could he have had children with me?

We’d spent six years together, Francis in his world of spiritual rituals, while I desperately tried to win his affection. I racked my brain, thinking of ways to strengthen our marriage.

But Francis? He wasn’t worried about us. He was thinking about Natasha, about getting her back.

I trembled as I took the photo and said cynically, “You really worked hard, didn’t you?”

He thought I believed him.

Right then, Francis retreated to his study, calling Natasha in a voice that wasn’t quite as careful as it should’ve been.

“Natasha, Kierra believes it. She’s upset now, but she’ll come around in a few days. After that, I’ll bring Ella and Noah back.” His voice dropped lower, but there was an unmistakable spark of anticipation. “In three months at most, we’ll be a family. I’ll finally be able to be with you openly.”

I didn’t want to hear it, but the words cut through me, anyway.

The child we had raised together for five years, my son, was dead, and Francis hadn’t shed a single tear.

Instead, he was already planning the next steps as if nothing had happened.

I stood there, leaning against the wall, my body shaking as I laughed bitterly through my tears.

What was I doing?

What was I holding on to for six years?

Why had I stayed with him, compromising every part of myself?

It all came back to that moment ten years ago, at a party, when I saw Francis with such compassion save an injured bird.

I couldn’t let go of that image, that feeling. That secret crush slowly consumed me until I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.

Back then, my best friend had caught on and warned me with a serious look. “You really like him, don’t you? You’d better not, Kierra. Everyone knows Francis is not into women. Even if you were the most beautiful girl on the planet, he wouldn’t even look at you.”

But I didn’t listen. I didn’t believe it.

I chased him for ten years. I used every trick, played every game, and tried everything I could think of to get him to notice me. But he still ignored me.

Francis never smiled, never even looked my way.

I was ready to give up, to walk away. I cut up all the pictures of him, buried my secret crush diary, and promised my family I would settle for the marriage they arranged for me.