My Useless Mute Beta Wife Is A Big Shot!

The room holds its breath.

Not the gentle kind—the one that settles over a house when everyone is asleep, when the world has tucked itself in and gone still. Not the one I used to like.

No. This is different. A waiting silence.

The kind that presses against the walls like something alive. Something listening.

Moonlight filters through the floor-to-ceiling glass, casting long shadows across the polished floor. Pale gold, slipping past the heavy curtains like fingers reaching for something they cannot touch.

I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

My room has always been big—too big, really. High ceilings that swallow sound. Walls that have heard every argument, every slammed door.

I used to rattle around in it like a marble in an empty box, bouncing off walls that never pushed back.

But tonight— Tonight it feels smaller. Tighter.

Because the person I don’t want to see is only a few steps away.

Silas lies on the couch. His head rests on a decorative cushion—firm, structured, never meant for sleep. Anyone with sense would be uncomfortable there. Tossing. Turning. Complaining.

But Silas doesn’t move.

His face is calm. Almost peaceful. The soft curve of his cheek pressed against the fabric. His lips slightly parted, breath slow and even.

And his eyes—

They shine.

Even in the dim light, they catch something. Reflect something. Like there’s a quiet fire behind them that never goes out. Like he’s achieved something greater than this room can hold.

I don’t think he cares whether he’s comfortable or not.

I glance at him.

Just a glance. Quick. Casual—the way you look at something familiar, not because you want to, but because it’s there.

His eyes are on me.

The moment I look—he looks away. Quick. His gaze snaps to the ceiling, fixed like it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. Like he hasn’t been watching me this whole time.

Why the hell is he staring at me?

The question lands in my chest like a stone dropped into still water. The ripples spread—disturbing things I’d rather leave undisturbed.

I’m getting sick of this.

Is he even human? Doesn’t he get tired?

He stood outside my door for hours—stubborn, unmoving. Notes pushed under the door, one after another.

Dinner I didn’t ask for. Waiting I didn’t allow. And after all that— he still watches me while I’m trying to sleep?

I push the thought away. Close my eyes. Command my body to sleep.

Why is he still on my mind?

My breath steadies. I force it slow, even—the way you calm something wild.

I stay like this. Still. Quiet. Pretending. I squeeze my eyes shut until colors flare behind my lids.

Why won’t sleep come?

What the hell is wrong with me?

I’ve never struggled like this. Not even during my rut—when my body burned, my mind screamed, every nerve on fire.

Never this restless. Never this aware.

I open my eyes. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Silas’s eyes are still on me.

Brown.

But not the same as before. There’s something different in them now. Sharper. More present.

On me.

I blink.

My voice comes out before I can stop it. Cold. Sharp. A blade wrapped in silk. "Why are you staring at me?"

The words hang between us. "If you’re not sleeping, get out of my room."

He closes his eyes quickly.

Too quickly.

Like a child caught sneaking something he shouldn’t, shutting the cupboard before anyone sees.

His hands clutch the blanket to his chest—tight. White-knuckled. As if I might reach across the room and take it from him.

I turn my face away. Anger rises in my chest—sharp, contained.

This beta is getting on my nerves.

Obedient. Silent. Uncomplaining.

And still— still so annoying.

I close my eyes. Force myself to sleep. Ellis. Just sleep.

***********

The sunlight wakes me.

Not all at once—slowly, the way light has always arrived in this room. First, a pale glow behind the heavy curtains. Hesitant. Almost shy. Then gold, slipping past the edges of the heavy curtains, stretching across the floor like something waking from a long sleep.

Then brightness. Warmth. The kind of morning that promises nothing and asks for nothing in return.

I move slowly. My body stretches, remembering itself.

Something presses against my chest.

Soft. So soft it barely feels like anything at all.

My eyes stay closed. I don’t want to open them yet. I stay there—in that quiet space between sleeping and waking, where nothing hurts and nothing is expected of me.

My hand rests on something soft too. A curve beneath my palm. Warm. Alive.

My fingers tighten around it. On their own. Curious.

What is it?

Soft.

Too soft.

Like a teddy bear. Like something I used to hold when I was small—before I learned that holding things meant losing them.

I pull it closer. Hold it against my chest. A faint smile touches my lips.

Comfortable.

Then—

Warm breath. Against my chest.

Warm.

My eyes open.

I look down.

Silas.

His head rests against my chest.

My bathrobe has fallen open in my sleep—the fabric loose, untied, exposing skin. His cheek presses against me, warm. Soft. His breath rises and falls against my chest in slow, steady waves.

His hand is curled near my shoulder. Fingers loose, relaxed—like he fell asleep reaching for me and never let go.

My hand rests on his waist. Holding him close.

What the hell is this?

The thought hits like ice water.

This is him.

This— is what I thought was a bear.

My body reacts before my mind catches up.

I push his face away—quick, rough—then shove him back, putting space between us.

Harder than I mean to. Harder than necessary.

Silas falls.

His body hits the floor with a muted thud. Limbs tangled in the blanket. The cushion slides after him.

I sit up with a jerk. My heart slams against my ribs. My breath comes fast.

Silas sits up too. Quick. Startled.

His eyes are wide—brown and unfocused, still soft with sleep. His hair falls across his forehead in loose, tangled strands. He looks at me like he doesn’t understand what’s happening.

I shout. The words tear out of me. "What the hell are you doing on my bed?"

He blinks. Still in shock. Still processing.

"I told you to stay away from me!"

Silas doesn’t move. No defense. No explanation. Just stillness.

His eyes lock on mine.

Then—

Blood.

Dripping from his temple. Red and bright in the morning light. Sliding down his skin, catching the sun as it falls from his jaw.

His eyes shine.

Tears slip down his cheeks.

Silently.

No sound. No sob. No whimper. Just tears—falling, steady, unstoppable.

My face stills.

The anger drains out of me. Not slowly—all at once. Like water from a cracked glass.

He’s hurt.