183: 57 A Lucky Husband

57 A Lucky Husband

Nuri’s POV

On the sixth day of vacation, one quiet afternoon, I held Sibyl's hand and taught her to write a love poem.

This love poem was written for my mother by my father when he was courting her. My mother loved it, wrote it on their marriage certificate and treasured it.

When I was young, my mother held me in her arms. I sat on her lap, smelling her perfume, listening to her softly recite this poem:

For glance beget ogles,

ogles sighs,

sighs wishes,

wishes words,

and words a letter.

At first, I didn't know the meaning of the poem, but I thought its rhythm was beautiful. Every time my mother read this poem, she would smile gently, as if immersed in some kind of happy memory. My father would repeat the poem with her in a low voice, and they would look at each other and feel their love with just one look.

As I grew up, I came to understand the poem.

It contains the love story of my parents.

Thirty years ago, New Year's Day finally arrived, and the whole capital was filled with cheers and parades in the streets and squares. My father and mother were in the crowd, enjoying the fireworks and feeling the happy atmosphere of the New Year.

As they passed, my mother's handkerchief caught the wind and fell on my father's face. My father picked up the handkerchief and his nose was filled with its scent. They looked back at each other, then their eyes were surprised and shy.

But the crowd was so crowded that they couldn't stop and could only be pushed forward.

My father kept looking back at my mother until she disappeared into the crowd, leaving him holding her handkerchief.

My father seemed to have lost his soul, and every night he thought about the way my mother looked back. He tossed and turned, sighing at the loss of opportunity, but his hopes and misses grew at the same time.

Then they met again at a party. My father was so excited that he wrote down his feelings on a piece of paper and gave it to my mother with her handkerchief. My mother read his letter and understood his heart.

What happened next was like a romantic story. They date, hold hands and kiss. My father came to my mother's house with an expensive gift and asked her to marry him. My mother said yes with tears in her eyes. So, they got married in the spring.

After they got married, my father kept his promise. He loved my mother with all his heart, without concubines, without deceit, without quarrels or complaints. They take care of each other and treat each other as the most important people in their lives.

They are the best couple I have ever seen. My brother and I have lived happily ever since. Were it not for the tragedy of 5 years ago, we would be the happiest family in the whole capital.

Now that I have a family and a loving wife, I read this poem to her in the hope that we will become an enviable couple like my parents.

For glance beget ogles,

ogles sighs,

sighs wishes,

wishes words,

and words a letter.

I finished the poem with her hand in mine, and Sibyl read it softly. Her voice was gentle and pleasant, like a cuckoo after a spring rain.

“I love this poem,” Sibyl looked at me.

I kissed her on the lips. “I knew you'd like it.”

“Your father was a good husband.”

“He's a real hero. He once told me that if a man can't love his wife and family, then he's a real man.”

“I should thank him for teaching you to be a responsible man.”

“I thought of this poem the first time I saw you, and then I understood how my father felt when he saw my mother.”

“The first time? You mean the first time we met at the banquet? I remember you very roughly pulling off my veil. I was extremely scared... could it be that you fell in love with me from that day on?”

I kissed her on the lips, preventing her from asking any more questions.

I can't say when I first fell in love with her, but she has left a deep impression on me since the first time we met. Although she was only a timid princess that day, I was always attracted to her, peeking at her and dreaming about her at night.

That's the attraction. I was destined to fall in love with her when we met.

Just as we were making out, there came three knocks on the door.

Damn it!

I moved my lips from hers and gasped, “My soldiers are here. They may have something to report to me.”

She looked at me with wet eyes and nodded.

I kissed her again, then straightened my clothes and went into the drawing room.

Wayde saluted me.

I sat in my chair. “What happened?”

“Manolo is back. He came to Rodriguez Castle last night and said he had news about Princess Sibyl's mother. He said it was important and he had to tell her in person.”

Something important?

I frowned. My gut tells me not to let them meet.

But I nodded. “Invite him to our garden palace. Sibyl and I will wait for him here. Shae is here too.”

I don't like Manolo, but Sibyl has the right to know about her mother in the first place.

“I'll send a soldier to pick him up. He'll be here tonight at dusk.”

I turned to my servant and said, “I have guests tonight. Please prepare more dinner.”

“Yes，sir.”

The servant left, and Wayde and I went out of the house.

Wayde followed him with five soldiers. They were standing in the doorway. As we passed them, I felt something was wrong. I stopped and saw a bloody mark on a soldier's face.

“Fighting is forbidden in my army.” I frowned.

“Sir, I didn't fight with anyone,” the soldier said with his head down.

“Then how did you hurt your face?” I said sternly. I hated it when my soldiers lied to me.

“I. . . I. . .”

“Say!”

“This is from my wife. We had a fight last night.” With that, the soldier's face turned red with shame. 1

His face is somewhat familiar. I must have seen him before.

Oh, I remember. This is Armstrong. He's the one who suggested I get the kitten as a present.

My attitude softened a little. “I remember you got married two months ago. Why did you fight?”

“Nothing,” Armstrong said, blushing even more, “My friends and I were drinking last night. A friend of mine called a woman to sing to us. I got home late, and I was wearing some woman's perfume, so... ... So my wife got angry.”

I nodded, and if I came home in the middle of the night smelling like a woman's perfume, Sibyl would probably be angry, too.

“And you fought? You're a soldier. How can you bully a woman?”

I have a rule in my Army: soldiers cannot bully the elderly, children and women.

“I didn't...” Armstrong bit his lip, not knowing what to say.

Wayde pulled me aside and whispered, “He didn't bully his wife. His wife bullied him.”

“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow.

Wayde looked back at the soldiers and said in a quieter voice, “I heard yesterday his wife hit him with a big spoon made of wood and scratched his face. But Armstrong did do something wrong. He shouldn't have been drinking with the hostess at night.”

It's true that a married man can't drink with a woman in the middle of the night, but Armstrong's wife is too... ? ... is too much?

Wayde went on. “It's nothing special. Some women have a hot temper, so they break things or 'hit' their husbands when they are angry. But they are not hurting their husbands. After all, fighting is part of marriage. Armstrong's wife was so angry last night, she couldn't control her strength... ...”

“Are they going to get divorced?” I remember Armstrong loving his wife.

“Oh, they won't,” said Wayde with a smile. “A lot of couples fight like this. They'll get back together soon.”

Well, then, I needn't worry too much about my soldier's marriage.

I turned and went to the study, where my wife was waiting for me.

It turns out that not all wives are as gentle as Sibyl. Although she would be angry with me, she would never“fight” with me. She'd just look at me with red eyes and whisper that she was upset. Even if she loses her temper, she is lovely. All I have to do is hold her and kiss her, and she will be a thoughtful wife again.

Oh, poor Armstrong. Thanks to him, today I know I am such a lucky husband.

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