My Useless Mute Beta Wife Is A Big Shot!

My expression falters.

The teasing. The satisfaction. The petty little punishment. It all vanishes in an instant, replaced by something tight and unfamiliar in my chest.

My eyes widen. Just slightly.

He’s crying.

For a long moment, I don’t move.

I just watch him—this quiet, stubborn boy who came back to me with flowers and endless patience, who sat beside me in suffocating silence and waited for me to speak, who accepted every cruel word I threw at him without a single complaint.

All he did was wait for me to speak. And when I finally did...

I broke him instead.

I only wanted to tease him.

A little push. A gentle reminder that his absence had weight. That disappearing without a word left a mark.

I never thought he would take it all so deeply.

My voice comes out softer than I intended, barely more than a breath in the heavy silence.

"Silas..."

He doesn’t look at me.

His head remains lowered, his shoulders trembling with silent sobs, every uneven breath betraying the tears he’s trying so desperately to hide.

"Silas," I call again, even softer. "Look at me."

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even acknowledge my voice. The tears continue to fall, silent and relentless, tracing slow paths down his cheeks.

I feel it then—the full weight of what I’ve done. My fists clench on my lap.

Ellis...

You pushed too far.

Slowly—carefully, like I’m approaching something fragile—I reach for his hand. My fingers find his, gently prying them away from the pencil he’s gripping far too tightly. He resists at first, stubborn even now, his fingers refusing to let go. But after a long moment, his grip loosens. The pencil slips from his hand and falls onto the floor of the car with a soft clatter that sounds impossibly loud in the heavy silence.

I hold his hand. It’s cold. Trembling.

My voice comes out low and gentle, as though I’m trying to soothe a frightened animal.

"Stop crying."

I give his hand a gentle tug.

"Come inside with me."

He shakes his head. A small, stubborn refusal. Tears continue to slip down his cheeks. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, bitten red as he struggles to keep the sobs trapped inside.

I look at him—really look at him—and something in my chest gives way. Cracks. Softens.

He’s not just sad.

He’s hurt.

And I’m the one who hurt him.

A faint smile touches my lips despite myself—not teasing, not mocking, but quiet and apologetic.

My stubborn little puppy...

I step out of the car, the cold night air brushing against my face, and walk around to his side. I open the passenger door and, before he can react, slide one arm beneath his legs and the other around his waist. I lift him into my arms in one smooth motion, holding him carefully against my chest as though he’s something precious.

His breath catches, a small, startled sound escaping him, barely louder than the whisper of the wind.

I start toward the house, my steps slow and steady over the gravel path. The night air is cold, but the warmth of him in my arms chases it away, and without thinking, I pull him a little closer.

"You’re so stubborn, my little puppy."

He squirms weakly in my arms—a silent protest, more instinct than determination. Like a stubborn little puppy pretending he wants to get down while secretly seeking the comfort of being held.

A smile tugs at my lips despite the ache in my chest.

"If you keep squirming like that, we’re both going to fall."

He stops instantly.

The door unlocks with a soft click, and I step inside. The familiar warmth of the house wraps around us, chasing away the night’s chill. My gaze stays forward.

When I speak, there’s no teasing left in my voice. Only the truth.

"The day you left..." I pause, searching for words I’ve never had to say before. "This house felt strange to me. Empty. Cold. Even though it’s my most peaceful place... the only place where I can truly breathe... without you, it didn’t feel like home anymore."

He freezes in my arms.

I feel the sudden stillness, the sharp catch of his breath, the way his body goes rigid before slowly relaxing again.

I glance down.

His eyes are wide, filled with disbelief, as though he never expected to hear those words from me. As though he never believed he meant that much to me.

I carry him to the couch and lower him down carefully. The cushions dip beneath his weight. His brown hair fans across the fabric, and the tear tracks on his flushed cheeks still glisten beneath the warm light.

I lean over him, my thumb brushing gently across the corner of his eye, wiping away another tear.

"I was lying."

My voice is barely above a whisper. "Everything I said in the car..." A small pause. "It was all a lie."

He stares up at me. Unmoving. Unblinking.

His lips part ever so slightly, his warm breath mingling with mine. I feel the faint tremble running through his body, and in his tear-filled eyes, I see the question he can’t bring himself to ask.

"I just wanted to tease you." My voice softens into little more than a whisper. "I never thought you’d take my words so seriously."

He blinks slowly, the movement heavy with exhaustion and emotion. A tear clings to his lashes before slipping free, tracing a silver path down his cheek. My thumb catches it before it can fall any farther.

"I missed you too."

My hand cups his face, cradling his jaw with quiet tenderness. I lean closer until only a breath separates us.

"I missed you terribly..."

A faint smile touches my lips.

"My little cherry tomato."

Before he can react, I close the distance and press my lips to his.

His eyes drift shut, and his hands rise hesitantly before finding my shoulders, then the fabric of my shirt. His fingers curl into it with quiet desperation, holding on as though he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.

I kiss him slowly.

Gently.

I pour everything I couldn’t put into words into that single kiss—the worry, the anger, the fear, the loneliness, the overwhelming relief of having him back.

Everything feels right again.

Complete.

Like a missing piece of me has finally found its way home.

I draw back just enough to look at him. His eyes open slowly, still glistening with tears, the rims flushed red. But the hurt in them has softened, replaced by something quieter.

Hope.

"Don’t leave me like that again." My voice is low but steady. "Or I’ll really be angry with you."

He shakes his head quickly.

No. I won’t.

I lean down and wrap my arms around him, burying my face in the curve of his neck. His warmth surrounds me, and I breathe him in as though I’ve been deprived of it for far too long.

My lips brush lightly against his skin as I whisper, barely louder than a breath,

"Don’t leave me alone again."