My Useless Mute Beta Wife Is A Big Shot!

The café has fallen into a kind of sacred silence.

Chairs tucked beneath tables. The lights dimmed to a soft, golden hum—just enough to see, not enough to chase away the intimacy of closing hour.

The sign on the glass door has been flipped to Closed, its letters facing the street like a quiet farewell.

Sum wipes his face with the back of his hand. A streak of cake cream clings to his cheek. White dust from spilled flour clings to his shirt—settled into the fabric like snow that refused to melt.

He brushes at it, frowning at the mess, but there’s something boyish about the way he does it.

Unbothered. Almost proud.

Alara laughs—a warm, rolling sound that fills the empty spaces. "You’re still a little kid," she says.

Sum’s pout is immediate. Dramatic. "Jane started it."

Jane raises both hands, palms out, eyes wide with exaggerated innocence. "Stop babbling and covering up your mistakes."

Sum winks at him. Playful. A flicker of mischief passing between them like a secret.

I straighten my jacket. Pull the collar close. The leather is cool against my fingers.

"Let’s go."

Sum nods, reaching for his coat draped over the back of a chair.

Alara glances toward the windows—dark now, the glass reflecting our own faces back at us instead of the street beyond.

"It’s already night," she says. "Why don’t you two stay for dinner?"

Sum’s face brightens instantly. "Sounds good—"

"Next time." My voice comes out flat. Unreadable. "Thank you for the company. Good night."

Alara doesn’t push. She just nods, her smile soft and knowing in a way I don’t want to examine.

"I should be the one thanking you. It was nice having you here. Go safely."

Sum looks at me, reluctant, like a child being pulled away from something he wasn’t ready to leave.

"Dude... can’t we stay just a little longer?"

I don’t wait for him. I turn and start walking, my footsteps steady against the wooden floor.

Sum follows—dragging his feet, his reluctance practically humming in the air.

Before I reach the door—

It opens.

The bell rings. Soft. Delicate. A sound like something breaking gently.

Silas steps inside.

His movements are quiet—no rush, no urgency. Just the gentle way he occupies space, like he’s afraid of disturbing the air itself.

My step stops. Immediately. Completely.

Our eyes meet.

I don’t move. Don’t speak. Don’t breathe. I just stand there, frozen in the half-dark, staring at him.

Sum’s smile is immediate—bright, theatrical, the smile of someone who lives for moments like this. "Silas..." He spreads his arms like a showman presenting a miracle. "What perfect timing."

I blink. Look away.

Why did he come?

Silas’s gaze shifts to Sum behind me. That familiar soft smile appears—quiet, almost fragile, like something that could be smudged away with a careless hand.

Alara waves from behind the counter. "Hello, Silas."

He looks at her. Nods once—small, quiet, almost careful. His only kind.

Sum clasps his hands together, eyes sparkling with barely concealed glee. "Are you here to pick up Ellis?"

Silas nods again.

"Thank God you came." Sum gestures toward me with dramatic relief. "You know—your husband’s mood has been ruined all day."

I look at Sum. A smirk spreads across his lips—slow, deliberate, dangerous.

His mind whispers

{I’m not going to stop. Not this time.}

"Without you," Sum continues, savoring each word like candy, "everything’s been bothering him today. Don’t leave him alone like that again."

His smile widens.

"He’s impossible to deal with."

Silas blinks. Surprise flickers across his face—just a shadow, there and gone. Then his smile brightens. Softens. Deepens.

I stare at Sum.

You will pay for this. I will make you pay.

Sum doesn’t stop. He’s enjoying himself too much. "I really can’t handle this lazy kitten and his mood swings anymore."

He looks at me—direct, unflinching, victorious. "Now go with your partner. I’m going to stay here with my sister and brother-in-law a little longer."

I don’t move. My gaze pins him to the spot.

Silas steps forward.

Slowly. Carefully. Like approaching something that might startle.

His hand finds mine—barely touching, just enough to let me know he’s there. His fingers curl around the fabric of my jacket sleeve, barely there, like he’s asking permission with every breath.

Gentle. Asking nothing.

I blink. Look down at his hand. Then at his face.

A soft smile rests on his lips. Patient. Waiting. He tilts his head—just slightly, just enough for me to notice, just enough to ask without words.

Should we go?

He turns, still holding my sleeve, and takes a step toward the door.

Sum pushes me lightly from behind. Enough to break whatever spell has me rooted to the floor.

"Go already."

We step outside.

The glass door closes behind us. The bell rings one last time—soft, final, like a period at the end of a sentence.

The night air hits my face like a slap. Too cold. Too sharp.

The sky above is heavy—bruised purple and charcoal grey, clouds hanging low and swollen with rain. The street is empty.

The world feels like it’s holding its breath.

Silas keeps walking, his fingers still curled around my sleeve as he leads me toward the car.

With a sudden jerk—sharp, almost violent—I pull my sleeve free from his grasp.

I stop.

He stops too. Looks back at me.

My face is cold. My brows knit tightly. Anger coils in my chest—tight, familiar, easier to feel than whatever else is trying to surface.

"I’m not going with you."

Silas just blinks. Calm. Unshaken. Like he expected this.

I take out my phone and unlock it. My fingers move sharply across the screen as I type a message to my driver.

Pick me up from Love&Love Cafe.

His reply comes quickly.

Yes, sir.

I slip the phone back into my pocket, as if that settles anything.

Silas looks up at the dark clouds moving overhead—slow and deliberate, like they have all the time in the world.

He takes out his notebook and pencil. Writes. Then offers the note to me.

I don’t take it.

His expression softens. Something quiet and pleading flickers through his eyes. He tugs lightly at my sleeve—a whisper of pressure, like a child asking for something he knows he shouldn’t want.

His eyes stay on mine.

I sigh—long and slow, the breath leaving my body like something I’ve been holding for too long. I take the note without looking at him.

Please. Let’s go. The rain will come any minute. You’ll get soaked.

I look at him. Cross my arms over my chest. Stubborn.

"No. I’m not going with you."

He looks down. Starts writing another note—

Before he finishes—

The rain begins. Not all at once. Not gently. A single drop lands on my cheek. Cold.

Then another on my hand. Then another on my shoulder. Slow at first—hesitant, like the sky isn’t sure yet.

Then faster. Then harder. Then all at once.

The world dissolves into water. The street shines. The windows blur. The air turns silver and gray and alive.

I don’t move.

Silas lifts the notebook over my head quickly, desperately, as if paper and pencil could stop the rain. His arm stretches above me, his body close enough for his shadow to fall across my face.

My brows loosen. My jaw unclenches.

Our eyes lock.

Rain pours around us, washing the street, the cars, the café, the night itself.

Water runs down his face, dripping from his chin onto his shirt, soaking through the fabric until everything turns dark.

We stand there, staring at each other while the rain pours around us. The notebook still above my head.

Neither of us moves.

Neither of us speaks.