My Useless Mute Beta Wife Is A Big Shot!

The afternoon light spills through the glass wall in slow, golden ribbons—thick and warm, like honey poured from some invisible jar.

I sit on the couch, one hand draped over the armrest, fingers curled loosely against the velvet fabric. Outside, I am calm. Inside, my heart is not my own. It races. It stumbles. It remembers.

My face burns with a warmth I cannot blame on the sunlight spilling across the floor. And no matter how many times I tell myself to stop, the memory returns.

Again. And again.

The whisper of a touch.

The soft brush of lips that almost were.

Beside me, Silas sits at a careful distance—close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his skin, far enough to pretend there is nothing between us but air and empty space. His eyes are lowered, fixed on some invisible point on the polished marble.

His face is red. Not the pale pink of morning chill or the flush of embarrassment I’ve seen before. This is deeper. A burn that spreads from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, creeping down his neck like wildfire he can’t contain.

His fingers fumble with each other on his lap. Nervous. Restless. Twisting, untwisting, finding no rest.

Across from us, my parents sit like spectators at a theater they were never invited to. Their eyes are fixed on us, and neither of them is doing a particularly good job of hiding their amusement.

I refuse to look at them.

My gaze settles on the glass wall instead, where the garden stretches beyond, bathed in afternoon sunlight. The white roses sway gently in a breeze I cannot feel from here.

My fists clench against the arm of the couch.

What is happening to me?

I almost kissed him.

If they hadn’t walked in—

I glance at them. Just once.

Mom has one hand raised to her lips, as though she’s trying—and failing—to hide her smile.

Dad sits with an air of practiced calm, his posture perfect, his expression unreadable. But the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth betrays him completely.

I look away. Back to the glass. Back to the garden. Back to anything that isn’t their faces.

Mom’s voice arrives like a breeze through an open window—soft, sweet, finally breaking the silence.

"We’re really sorry to interrupt you both like this."

Silas looks up at her. A fragile smile touches his lips—polite, forced, trembling at the edges. He shakes his head.

No need to apologize.

But his cheeks are still burning, and he looks down again almost immediately, as if he can’t bear the attention.

My father’s gaze settles on me. Heavy. Knowing. I feel it pressing against me.

"I find myself quite surprised today," he says, his voice quiet but laced with unmistakable satisfaction. "Someone’s complaints never ceased after my decision. Endless protests. Relentless objections. I thought they might never end."

He pauses, watching me.

"But now..." Another pause. "It seems he has grown rather comfortable with the arrangement."

My gaze shifts to him. Against my will. Against every instinct telling me to look away. His eyes meet mine.

The smirk on his lips deepens.

"It seems someone is stepping back from his words." He lets the words hang in the air, savoring them like fine wine. "Not that I mind. It is a welcome development. A pleasant surprise."

My jaw clenches so tightly I feel the ache radiating through my temples. I tear my eyes away, fixing them on the glass wall, on the garden, on anything but his smug, knowing expression.

"Why are you two suddenly here?"

My voice comes out flat.

Mom’s expression softens. "We miss you. You never come to the mansion anymore. We wanted to see if you’re both doing well."

"Without telling us?"

"We wanted to surprise you."

She hides her smile again behind her delicate fingers. But it escapes anyway.

"We just didn’t expect to interrupt a sweet, lovey-dovey couple’s private moment."

Lovey-dovey.

My gaze snaps to them.

Dad turns to Mom, his smirk softening into something almost fond. "Levi, I was thinking the same thing."

Mom looks at Dad. "Elias... seeing them like this reminds me of our early days. Don’t you think?"

Dad nods slowly, his gaze drifting somewhere far away. "Yes. Young and in love."

He looks at Mom, and something softens in his face. "When we were newly married... do you remember?"

Mom nods. A shy smile curves her lips.

"I remember."

They look at each other for a long moment, smiling like they’ve forgotten we’re even in the room.

I watch them. Unimpressed.

Seriously?

A quiet sigh slips from my lips—frustrated, exhausted, barely audible in the soft hum of the afternoon.

My gaze drifts to Silas.

His eyes are still downcast. His fingers are still twisting together in his lap, restless and uncertain.

His face is still red. He looks like a cherry tomato. Like a boy who has never been caught doing anything wrong in his entire life.

My frustration fades. Just a little.

Why does he look so nervous?

His fingers won’t stop moving.

Why is he—

Before I can think, my hand moves. My fingers find his.

His skin is cold. Too cold. A small shiver runs through him beneath the touch.

Is he okay?

His fingers stop moving. He looks up at me quickly—startled, caught off guard.

My eyes stay on him. He looks tense. Fragile. Like he’s waiting for something.

Across from us, my father clears his throat.

"Ahm... ahm..."

I blink and look at them.

My father’s brows are raised high on his forehead. His gaze drops pointedly to our joined hands before lifting back to my face, amusement dancing in his eyes.

I pull back. Quickly. Too quickly. As if his skin burned me.

I look away. Back to the glass wall. Back to the light streaming through the window, warm and indifferent.

Mom’s voice reaches for Silas, soft and warm.

"Son... thank you. For everything." A pause. "I cannot describe the sweetness you have brought into our family by coming here. By becoming part of us."

She looks at me.

"Especially into Ellis’s life." Her voice softens, becoming something almost fragile. "You have changed him. In ways I did not think possible."

Another pause. Longer this time.

"After so long..." She says it slowly. "Today, I saw him smiling. Really smiling. Carefree. Genuine."

Her voice trembles at the edges.

"Like my little Ellis."

I stare at my reflection in the glass wall.

Smiling.