A Good Wife (COMPLETE)

The chill of a soft rain mirrored the emptiness in Charles's heart. He walked the street, a tattered bag of clothes clutched tight, the sting of Paul’s final words echoing in his mind. "Shut up!"

It wasn't the first time. Every relationship ended the same way. They saw a handsome top, but all he ever wanted was to be a good wife. He sighed, watching people scatter for cover, a sudden skid of tires piercing the downpour. A child, too young to see the danger, darted into the street.

Instinct took over. He flung his bag, a silent prayer on his lips, and launched himself forward. A sharp kick, a final, fading thought for the child’s survival, then darkness.

He blinked, the world swimming back into focus, and saw him. The most beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on. Then, a sharp pain, blood, and confusion. “Young Master!” servants rushed in, a chorus of worried voices. He was in a lavish room now, clean clothes on his body, a warm meal before him.

"Excuse me," Charles said, trying a friendly smile. "My head got bashed a lot. I don't understand what you’re saying." The servants exchanged wide-eyed glances. "Young Master forgot who he was?"

“No… not much. Just confused. Fill me in.”

“You are our Young Master. Your father is the country's prime minister. You have three older brothers. You are the youngest son.”

“And who was that man before?”

“Your wife.”

Charles choked on air. His… wife? Such a beautiful man. But why did he look at him with such disgust and anger?