Your Wife? Mine! - Chapter 3

Her logic had failed her once again. Jealousy and resentment threatened to swallow Shen Xi whole. It wasn’t until the villa completely vanished from her rearview mirror that she managed to suppress the boiling emotions and regain her usual clinical composure.

The tires crunched over the gravel driveway as the car pulled into the main courtyard of the estate. The vehicle came to a smooth halt; Shen Xi pushed the door open and stepped out, throwing her arms wide to embrace her grandmother, Shen Qiongfang, who was already waiting in the garden.

“Grandma!”

Shen Qiongfang sat in a wheelchair, her silver hair styled meticulously. Despite her advanced age, her back remained ramrod straight. Hearing the call, her clouded eyes brightened for a moment, only to be shrouded by a sudden confusion.

She stared fixedly at Shen Xi as the younger woman hurried toward her. Suddenly, her face hardened, and she spoke with a sharp, scolding tone: “You brat! You finally decided to come home? Done playing with that rock-and-roll of yours?”

The smile on Shen Xi’s face stiffened. Her footsteps faltered.

Shen Zhao, catching up quickly, leaned in to whisper an explanation: “Grandma’s memory has been failing lately. She often mistakes people for Mother.”

The “Mother” Shen Zhao referred to was their Omega parent, the old lady’s youngest daughter, Shen Liuguang.

Understanding dawned on Shen Xi. She knelt before her grandmother, taking the withered, bony hands in hers. Mimicking her mother’s tone from her childhood memories, she said with a bright smile, “Mom… I’m listening. I’m done playing around. I’ll stay by your side from now on.”

Shen Zhao’s eyes widened, her mouth opening to scold Shen Xi for such nonsense. But when she saw the frost melt from the old lady’s face and the shimmer of tears in her eyes, even Shen Zhao couldn’t help but let her own lips curl into a soft smile.

“Good. That’s more like it.” Shen Qiongfang patted Shen Xi’s hand. “It’s good to have you back. Don’t go running off again.”

Shen Xi took the opportunity to sit with her grandmother on a stone bench in the courtyard, listening to her ramble about the past and offering occasional responses. The sunlight filtered through the branches of the magnolia trees, bathing them in a warm, gentle glow.

Later that evening, the butler came to announce that the banquet was about to begin. Shen Xi helped her grandmother toward the main manor’s grand hall.

To celebrate the matriarch’s ninety-fifth birthday, the entire clan had gathered. As Shen Xi guided her grandmother into the foyer, they were met with a wall of noise. The old lady loved a lively atmosphere; since building the estate, she had invited every relative, no matter how distant, to live within the grounds.

Scanning the foyer, Shen Xi estimated there were over a thousand people bustling about. The booming voices of Alphas engaged in debate, the soft laughter of Omegas, and the shrieks of playing children wove together a picture of perfect family reunion.

Subconsciously, her eyes began to pace through the crowd, searching. She couldn’t find that one specific figure.

Her heart sank slightly, only to be replaced by a sharper, more searing sense of anticipation.

Such an occasion meant Meng Xiyao would definitely be there.

But before their eyes could meet, Shen Xi needed to prepare. Since the age of two, her glandular abnormality had rendered the pheromones of almost every Omega repulsive to her, with the sole exception of Meng Xiyao. Even so, being in a space crowded with Omegas remained a physical ordeal. She refused to let a physiological failure rob her of this chance.

Reaching into her pocket, Shen Xi pulled out her anti-allergy medication and swallowed it with a gulp of lukewarm water from a passing waiter’s tray.

Making an excuse about needing air, she slipped away to the entrance of the banquet hall. As the night deepened, the evening breeze carried the lingering scent of magnolia, tugging at the stray hairs near her temples. She removed her hearing aids; the clamor inside was instantly severed, reduced to a faint, rhythmic vibration.

Leaning against the cold doorframe, her gaze locked onto the stone path leading from the main courtyard. Her heart hammered against her ribs, faster and faster.

She waited a long time, long enough for the wind to chill her fingertips, long enough for the voices inside to turn urgent until finally, the silhouette she had pined for appeared.

Meng Xiyao had arrived.

She walked slowly, her arm linked with Gu Hai’s. A moon-white velvet gown traced her slender, graceful figure. Her hair was swept up into an elegant chignon, revealing a smooth forehead and a delicate neckline. The pearl studs at her ears shimmered softly under the moonlight. She looked like a night-blooming cereus opening in the mist; cool, gentle, and distant.

In an instant, the rest of the world vanished.

The noise of the hall, the sighing wind, the distant chirp of crickets. It all fell away. There was only Shen Xi and the woman drawing closer. Her heart beat so violently it felt like it would shatter her eardrums. She held her breath, her eyes greedily tracing every detail: the soft curve of Xiyao’s brows, the slight press of her lips, and finally, her arm entwined with Gu Hai’s.

With every second, the obsession in her heart grew an inch deeper, accompanied by a sharp, needle-like sting.

Xiyao had matured. She was fuller now, the girlish innocence replaced by a sophisticated, womanly charm. She was exactly as Shen Xi had pictured her in a thousand restless dreams. Looking at her, Shen Xi felt as though her chest were stuffed with damp, sour cotton, swollen and agonizing. Her nose prickled; her eyes grew hot.

As they stepped closer, Xiyao seemed to sense the intensity of the stare and looked up.

When their eyes met, Shen Xi’s breath stopped. Her blood turned to ice. Xiyao’s gaze was quiet—no shock, no turmoil, only a perfectly measured layer of polite recognition. She gave a slight nod and offered a faint smile. It was the same gentle expression as before, but it was wrapped in a frost-like distance that kept everyone at arm’s length.

Shen Xi’s pupils contracted. She tried to return the smile, but her facial muscles were as rigid as stone. Her heart felt as though it had been struck by a heavy blow, leaving her barely able to stand.

“You must be Xiao Xi, right?” Gu Hai’s voice shattered the silence.

She let go of Xiyao and stepped forward, carrying the child. She looked Shen Xi up and down with a forced air of surprise. “Long time no see. You’ve grown so tall, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Shen Xi forced her gaze back, suppressing the roiling emotions beneath the surface. She surreptitiously slid her hearing aid back into place behind her dark hair and smiled weakly. “Long time no see, Cousin.”

Her eyes drifted uncontrollably toward the little girl in Gu Hai’s arms—the child from the lawn. Dressed in a pink formal dress, she looked like a porcelain doll, tilting her head to study Shen Xi with curious, dark eyes. Only the eyes reminded Shen Xi of Xiyao; the rest of her features were a mirror image of Gu Hai.

Shen Xi softened her voice, her tone carrying a trace of humble, desperate inquiry. “Is this your daughter? She seems very well-behaved. What’s her name?”

At the mention of her daughter, Gu Hai’s face lit up with pride. She shifted the child, her tone boastful. “This is Wutong. Gu Wutong. Isn’t she adorable?” She tilted the child toward Shen Xi like a prized trophy.

Little Wutong giggled at the movement, her tiny hands patting Gu Hai’s shoulder. “Mama, don’t hold me like that, it tickles!”

“Alright, alright.” Gu Hai doted on her, tapping the girl’s nose with a grin.

Shen Xi nodded. Her throat felt as if it were clogged with hot sand, dry and painful. She squeezed out a single, strained syllable: “Mm.”

Just then, Meng Xiyao walked over. She didn’t look at Shen Xi. Her eyes were fixed solely on her daughter and her wife. She reached out to steady Gu Wutong’s back, a movement that was natural and fiercely protective.

Her voice was soft, yet it carried the quiet authority of the mistress of the house. “Alright, that’s enough playing. Everyone is waiting for us inside. Let’s go in.”

It was the same voice from Shen Xi’s memories, soft as a feather but now it felt like a shard of ice, piercing through Shen Xi’s last shred of hope. From beginning to end, Xiyao had not looked at her once, as if she were merely an inconsequential pillar by the door, a pocket of air not worth noticing.

Gu Hai nodded, carrying Wutong into the hall. Xiyao followed close behind, her moon-white hem cutting a cold arc through the air.

Shen Xi stood frozen.

The world went silent. The wind, the crickets, the laughter from the hall. It all receded like a tide, leaving only the deafening roar of her own pulse. Longing, regret, and the sting of being utterly ignored swirled into a violent vortex in her chest.

She watched Xiyao’s back, saw how she leaned slightly toward Gu Hai, saw their hands brushed together… she saw her pass by without a single hint of hesitation.

It turned out that “the world collapsing” wasn’t just a metaphor. Shen Xi felt the ground cracking beneath her feet and the night sky spinning downward. A wave of vertigo hit her, turning her vision black. She reached out to steady herself, her fingers meeting only the cold, dew-slicked doorframe.

Her heart felt as if an invisible hand had crushed it without mercy. The pain radiated to her very bones, making her fingertips twitch in an uncontrollable spasm. It hurt a thousand times more than the bullet that had torn through her chest.

Under the lights, Gu Hai leaned in to say something to Xiyao, and Xiyao nodded, a faint but genuine smile touching her lips. Little Wutong reached out to hug Xiyao’s neck and kissed her cheek, making Xiyao’s eyes crinkle with warmth. That smile was tender enough to melt water, a world away from the cold indifference she had shown Shen Xi.

The three of them looked harmonious, warm, and… so blindingly happy that Shen Xi’s eyes burned.

In these twelve years, she had lived well. A wife, a daughter, a perfect life.

And Shen Xi? What was her twelve-year obsession worth? Was she just a clown performing for an empty theater?

Perhaps she shouldn’t have come back. It would have been better to die on that battlefield than to be executed by this indifference.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, no doubt Shen Zhao was rushing her. The vibration felt like a needle pricking her fragile composure. Shen Xi slowly pulled her hand away from the doorframe and looked at her trembling fingers.

She took a deep breath, the cold magnolia scent filling her lungs. It didn’t bring clarity; it only brought a chill that seeped into her marrow.

She couldn’t fall here. Surrendering now wasn’t her style. This nightmare had haunted her for twelve years. If she was going to face it, she had to stand tall.

Shen Xi rubbed her stiff cheeks, trying to massage away the localized agony. She looked into the dark, reflective glass of the door, forcing her lips into a curve. The person in the glass was pale, eyes hollow, and the forced smile was more grotesque than a sob.

But she didn’t give up. Stay calm, Shen Xi. Hold it together.

Finally, she fixed a mask of composure onto her face. She stepped forward, moving toward that agonizingly warm “family” scene. Every step felt like walking on blades.

Meng Xiyao, look at you. You have everything beautiful in the world.

I should wish you well. I should be happy for you.

But why… Why can’t I let this go?

The suppressed obsession and resentment grew like vines in the dark, strangling her until she could barely breathe, yet igniting a dim, stubborn flame amidst the ruins. She stared at Xiyao’s retreating back like a vengeful spirit climbing out of the abyss, her desires finally beginning to spill over.

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