My Useless Mute Beta Wife Is A Big Shot!

The dinner table is set like a painting.

Every fork aligned. Every glass catching the dim light. The café lamps have been turned low—only this table still glows, a small island of warmth in the growing darkness. Beyond the windows, the garden has faded into night. Only shadows remain.

Alara and her husband sit across from me. Their hands touch across the table. Their eyes meet. They smile at each other like there’s no one else in the room—speaking softly about things I don’t bother to hear.

I sit back, tired. The kind of tired sleep doesn’t fix.

I check my watch. Almost midnight.

I should be home. In bed. Alone.

I sip my wine, letting it rest on my tongue before I swallow.

Silas sits beside me, nodding at something Sum is saying. Across the table, Sum leans forward, hands moving as he talks—some story, some joke, something that probably doesn’t matter.

He’s been talking for an hour. Maybe more.

I glance at Silas.

He looks the same as when we arrived. Still fresh. Still patient. The smile hasn’t left his lips—like he doesn’t know how to put it away. Like he forgot people get tired.

But his cheeks are red now. Faint. A flush beneath his pale skin. Maybe the wine. Maybe the heat. Maybe something else.

Everyone else is gone. The party is over. The guests drifted out into the night, their laughter fading down the street.

But Alara insisted we stay. Eat something, she said. You can’t leave without dinner.

So here we are.

Alara looks at me—then at the plate in front of me. Still full. Untouched.

"Ellis." Her voice is gentle. "Why aren’t you eating? Don’t you like it?"

"I’m not hungry." A pause. "Alara, thank you for dinner. I’m feeling sleepy."

I start to rise—

"Ellis."

Sum lifts a hand.

"Wait."

He glances at Alara.

"You were going to tell us something." His tone is teasing, but there’s curiosity beneath it. "You never said why you held this party. Every time I asked, you said you’d tell us at dinner."

He sighs—dramatic, exaggerated, pure Sum. "It’s almost midnight. I can’t wait anymore."

Alara’s smile widens. She stands. Slowly. Like she’s been waiting for this moment all night.

"Fine. I’ll tell."

She looks at her husband. Jane sits beside her, hands folded on the table, shoulders slightly hunched. Nervous. Or shy. Or both.

"The reason I held this party..." She pauses. Lets the silence stretch.

"Jane is pregnant."

Jane looks down. His cheeks bloom red—deep and sudden, spreading to his ears. He smiles, small and shy. Like he’s still getting used to the idea.

Alara’s smile softens. "Soon... we’re going to be parents."

Sum’s expression changes. His mouth opens. His eyes widen.

I lean back in my chair. Calm. No shock.

So they finally talked. Cleared whatever silence had been growing between them.

Alara reaches for Jane’s hand, holding it in both of hers.

"I wanted to share this news with everyone. But Jane stopped me." She glances at him. "He’s a little embarrassed. Uncomfortable."

Her voice softens. "So I decided to share this happiness only with you. In private."

For a moment, no one speaks.

Then Sum’s face breaks into a grin—wide, genuine. "Wow." He looks at Jane. "I’m going to be an uncle."

His voice drops, softer now. "Congratulations. To both of you."

Jane lifts his head. Smiles.

"Thank you, Sum."

Sum stands. Raises his glass. The wine catches the light—deep red, almost black. "Let’s celebrate this happiness."

My voice is calm. Not excited. Just... present. "Congrats, Alara. Jane."

Alara smiles at me. "Thank you, Ellis."

Sum drains his glass in one long swallow. Pours more for himself—then leans across the table, filling Silas’s glass. Generous. Careless. The wine swirls dark.

"Bottoms up."

Silas looks down at the glass. Hesitates. His fingers curl around the stem—but he doesn’t lift it.

"Come on," Sum grins. "Just one."

Silas raises the glass. Drinks. All of it.

Sum drinks his too. Sets the glass down with a satisfied clink. "Wow."

Alara shakes her head, laughing softly. "Hey, stop. You’re going to make him drunk."

Sum waves a hand, dismissive. "We only had a little. He’ll be fine."

I look at Silas.

His cheeks are darker now—red across the bridge of his nose, flushed beneath his eyes. His gaze is soft. Unfocused.

His hand grips the edge of the table, fingers tightening against the wood—like the room isn’t steady beneath him.

Alara’s voice softens. "Silas, are you okay?"

He nods. Light. Too light.

I stand. "I’m heading out."

Alara rises too. Concern flickers across her face. "Ellis, are you sure you can drive? Maybe you should call your driver."

"I’m fine." A pause. "I didn’t drink much."

Silas stands.

He grips the edge of the table. His knuckles turn white against the wood. His steps are uneven—like the floor won’t stay still beneath him.

Alara smiles at him. Warm. Genuine. "Silas, it was nice to meet you. Visit my cafe again."

Silas nods. Gives her a soft smile—the same one he’s worn all night. But looser now. Less controlled. Like the wine has undone whatever was holding him together.

He steps away from the table. His leg buckles. Just a little. Just for a moment. But enough.

Sum moves quickly—reaching for him, steadying him by the arm. "Careful."

"Silas, are you sure you’re okay?" Guilt edges his voice. "I’m sorry—I didn’t know you’d get drunk from just one glass."

Silas pushes his hand away. Shakes his head. A small reassurance.

Sum hesitates—hands hovering, still ready to catch him if he falls.

Alara looks at me. "Ellis. Give him a hand. What if he falls?"

I look at Silas. My gaze is cold.

Who told him to drink?

"He can walk." Without waiting for a reply, I turn and walk toward the door.

Behind me, I hear his footsteps. Unsteady. Stumbling into things.

My steps are quick. Sharp. Each one a small escape.

I want to sleep. Rest. Be alone in a room where no one needs anything from me.

His hand reaches out. Fingers catch the sleeve of my shirt—light. Almost hesitant.

My steps stop. I turn back.

"What are you—"

Before I finish—

He falls.

Not fast. Not dramatic. Just... folds. Like something inside him gives way. Like the floor pulls him down.

Before he hits the ground, I move.

My arm slides around his waist. Catches him. Holds him against me. His head lolls against my shoulder, breath warm at my neck.

I stare at his face.

What the hell is this?

He passed out. From one glass?

My gaze snaps to Sum. A hard stare.

Sum hesitates. His smile fades. "I’m sorry..." He swallows. "I didn’t know your wifey was such a lightweight."

Alara’s voice comes from behind me, soft. "Don’t worry. After some rest, he’ll be fine."

Before I can think, I slide my other arm beneath his legs.

Lift him.

His weight settles against me. His head finds my shoulder. His face rests against my chest—peaceful. Unconscious. Unaware.

I glare at Sum one last time.

I’ll deal with you later.

Because of you, I’m carrying him.

I turn. Walk toward the door. The night air hits my face—cool. Sharp.

Silas doesn’t stir.

I should’ve left him.