Investing in My Crippled Wife: Every Return Makes Me Stronger

Chapter 112: Theory and Practice

’She also said ’to fulfill her role’...’

Not because she wanted to, but because she felt she had to. Just like him back then. That’s exactly why...

’It would be pretty arrogant to assume she’s actually in love with me.’

The realization brought a faint, self-deprecating smile to his lips. He picked up a small pebble from the path and tossed it into the water, shattering his reflection entirely.

As the ripples faded, he shook his head, forcing his thoughts to stop spiraling.

There was no point in overanalyzing it. Whether she was acting out of deep gratitude or a strict sense of marital duty, the reality of their daily life wasn’t going to change overnight. She was still recovering, he was still trying to grow stronger, and they both had a long way to go.

He would just keep doing what he had always done: protecting her, supporting her, and letting whatever was growing between them take its own natural course. He wouldn’t force it, and he wouldn’t let his own sudden realization make things awkward between them.

With his mind finally settled, Soren stood up from the stone bench, stretched his arms, and turned back toward the path.

It was time to head home.

───────

[Some time later.]

The heavy electronic lock released with a soft click. Soren stepped into the quiet foyer, carefully sealing the door behind him before making his way toward the main living area.

As he rounded the corner, Ethea’s gaze shifted smoothly toward the entrance, her eyes locking onto him the exact moment he came into view.

"..."

Soren froze for a fraction of a second, his foot hovering just over the edge of the floor.

The moment his eyes met hers, his brain completely blanked on the casual greeting he had practiced three times on the way up the stairs. His gaze dropped entirely on instinct, tracking the slight movement of her fingers, then darting away before he could accidentally stare at her lips.

A wry chuckle escaped his throat, a breathless sound directed entirely at his own pathetic display.

’...I guess talking and doing is entirely different, huh.’

His resolve hadn’t even survived the walk from the doorway.

It was a complete disaster.

Despite acknowledging his feelings by the pond and firmly deciding not to make things weird, he couldn’t just switch his brain off.

In fact, now that the truth was out in the open, pretending became ten times harder.

Before, his ignorance had acted like a shield; he could blame his racing pulse on situational awareness or adrenaline. Now, every single glance was a conscious choice, and every choice felt heavy.

He couldn’t even look her in the eye without a sudden heat creeping up his neck.

Every natural instinct he possessed had completely abandoned him.

Since casual acting was entirely out of the question, his only choice was to lean heavily into the one persona that always worked when his brain was compromised: absolute, rigid professionalism.

"I’m back," Soren said, his voice coming out a little stiffer than usual.

To keep his hands busy, he immediately set his jacket down, folding it over the back of a nearby chair with unnecessary precision.

"Are you alright?" Ethea asked, perhaps noticing his stiff posture.

Soren paused, his hand still on his jacket. He cleared his throat and offered a quick, strained smile. "No, everything’s okay. Just a little tired from the raid, that’s all."

Ethea looked at him with clear suspicion, but she didn’t press the issue.

Hoping to change the subject, Soren recalled something he arranged in the morning. "Ah, right! Did the dumplings arrive?"

Ethea’s expression softened at the mention of the food, and she nodded gently. "Yes. They were actually very delicious. The wrapper was thin, and the filling was perfectly seasoned."

"Right?" Soren agreed, a more genuine, relaxed smile finally breaking through his rigid mask. "I knew you’d like them. It was actually Ryan’s mother who made sure I took them. She’s really kind."

Before Ethea could respond, the sound of light footsteps approached from the kitchen area. Aunt Clara walked out into the living room, wiping her hands on a small towel as a warm smile lit up her face.

"Welcome back, Soren," Clara greeted him cheerfully. "We were just talking about when you would come back."

"Aunt Clara," Soren greeted her with a small nod, feeling a massive wave of relief at the timely interruption.

Seizing the perfect chance to escape before his composure could slip any further, he pointed toward the hallway. "I’m going to wash up first."

Without waiting for a reply, he quickly took his leave, practically retreating down the wide hallway toward the washroom to get some distance and finally breathe.

Aunt Clara and Ethea exchanged a brief, confused glance as the bathroom door clicked shut down the hall.

"He must be really tired," Aunt Clara remarked, breaking the silence with a soft sigh. Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, she shook her head gently. "He recovered not long ago too."

Ethea looked toward the empty hallway, humming a quiet note of agreement. She didn’t voice her lingering doubts, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that his sudden stiffness had very little to do with physical exhaustion.

Thankfully, a blast of freezing water did exactly what it was supposed to do. By the time he stepped out, dried off, and changed into comfortable indoor clothes, he was much better at handling himself.

He managed to navigate the rest of the evening without a single slip-up. During dinner, he kept his focus on casual, lighthearted topics, successfully maintaining his professional, steady persona through sheer force of will.

The strategy worked perfectly. Right up until this exact moment.

’...’

Soren stood at the edge of the master bedroom, the ambient lighting casting long shadows across the floor did absolutely nothing to ease the sudden tension locking up his joints.

He gulped inwardly, his gaze shifting from the edge of the neatly made bed down to Ethea.

It was time for her to rest, which meant he had to lift her.

His eyes locked onto her slender shoulders, then tracked down to where his hands would have to rest to support her weight properly. A sudden, glaring realization hit him, making his throat feel completely dry.

’...Just how did I do this until now?’