When I Got My Senses Back

“Get off me, you fool!”

In the dim glow of the lantern, the room was filled with drifting incense and sandalwood. Reginald Belmont clung to the woman like a child, his hands groping about in confusion. His mind was clouded and unaware.

Suddenly, a pair of pale hands reached out of nowhere and clamped tightly around his throat.

The woman, breathtaking in beauty yet colder than frost, shoved him onto the bed with a sharp voice, “I am Christine Alexander, so mark my words today. I would rather die than let you defile me!”

Though Reginald was a dimwit, he still wore a wedding ring. A heat surged from his neck downward, but in his heart he knew—even though the woman before him was his wife, she would rather see him dead than lift a finger to help.

Christine finally released him, her gaze still as icy as before. Since their marriage, she had never kissed him, never spoken a gentle word. Even now, with both of them on the same bed, her eyes showed no hint of affection; only disgust.

Beneath the flickering light, her figure glowed with elegance, curves hidden and revealed like a goddess of legend. She rose from the bed, towering over the man still on the bed.

Reginald quickly himself curled into a corner, trembling. Ever since he lost his mind eleven years ago, he had feared the world, but none more than this wife of his, whose presence sent chills to his soul.

He trembled as he put on his clothes he had earlier taken off because of the heat, now trying to cover the bruises and marks on his body, grimacing in old wound pain.

“So hot… my body, it’s burning… you…” he spoke like a dimwit—incoherently.

“You think it’s me? What, you think I drugged you?” Christine sneered, suddenly grabbing his thin wrist with such force it nearly snapped. “You! You really think I’d drug you, dimwit? For what? You know what I think? Someone, probably a business rival, used you to drug me! Because me too, I'm starting to feel hot. You’re so easy to manipulate. I never thought you’d actually let them use you to get to me!”

Reginald stood frozen. He didn’t understand much, but one thing was clear: ‘Ma’am Christine,’ as he used to call her, was furious.

The room was unbearably hot and thick with heat. Sweat dotted Christine’s forehead. Her dress hung loosely on her frame, unable to hide her striking curves. Yet even in such disarray, she stood tall like a goddess of death, her cold gaze cutting through him like a blade.

“Reginald Belmont, did you really think sleeping with me would make me accept you as my husband? You let my enemies use you to drug me, trying to cause a scandal. You will never be accepted by me!”

Suddenly, the heat in Reginald’s body began to fade. His mind immediately cleared. He abruptly stood straight, shocked by his surroundings, and by the childish clothes he wore. But even more shocking was the tiny woman in front of him, ranting incomprehensibly. Who the hell was she?

He stared at her, stunned. Everything she said sounded like madness. Rivals? Drugs? He didn’t understand a thing about this situation. But the pain in his body was real, and it reminded him of one thing: he had to call the police on this woman! What were these bruises?!

He quickly grabbed the phone from the nightstand, not caring whose it was. One swipe—it unlocked. Eureka!

Just as he was about to dial, Christine’s hand smacked the back of his head and yanked him toward her.

What the hell?! Had he gotten so skinny that even a woman could grope his neck like that?

At this close distance, her sharp, mocking face was unbearable.

“You just tried to call 911 on my phone? I knew it! You’re no fool, you’ve just been pretending all these years to be a fool just to be my husband and steal all of Christine Alexander’s wealth. My wealth!”

“Husband?!”

Reginald was utterly stunned.

Last he remembered, he was a newly minted adult, and very much single. Now he was a husband? Trying to rob a woman of her wealth?

Wait a minute… the name she just said—

Christine Alexander?!

Damn it. Wasn’t that his junior from college?!

Christine completely ignored the shock on Reginald’s face, not caring in the slightest why he looked so stunned. A cold sneer curled on her lips as she snapped her fingers lightly.

“I never imagined you could be so cunning, even fooling your entire Belmont Family that you were stupid,” she said with biting sarcasm. “But hear this… whether you’ve drugged me before or not, it won’t matter! I will purge every trace of you from my body!”

A maid entered timidly, trembling as she carried a bowl of dark, steaming medicine.

“Ma’am, this medicine is very strong, and your health is fragile. This…” the maid began, but Christine snatched the bowl without hesitation and strode toward the bed.

She grabbed Reginald’s chin roughly. His face was still blank with confusion and shock but she didnr mind. Her expression was ice-cold and devoid of emotion.

“He, Reginald Belmont, is not worthy of being the father of my child,” she declared without a flicker of hesitation.

Reginald was frail, nearly skeletal, and had no strength to resist. Yet under the grip of this small woman, he felt utterly powerless and humiliated. He watched her tip her head back and drink the entire bowl of medicine, and though she held his face as she did it, her message was clear: ‘Look carefully, I’m erasing every trace of you from my life.’

The shame burned through him like fire. Reginald clenched his fists.

From what he could remember of himself, never before had he been so thoroughly humiliated. His fingernails dug into his palms from the force of his anger.

“You don’t love me, yet you humiliate me just because you think I’m beneath you,” he muttered bitterly. “You call me a fool, but you’re the real fool; keeping me around like a curse instead of letting me go.”

Christine frowned. “What do you mean by letting you go?”

“Divorce!”