My marriage with Iris was nothing more than an arrangement made by our parents. Before this, I only knew her because she crash my car, panicked, and ran away and somehow, she eventually became my wife. From the start, our marriage never held any love, only irritation and quiet hatred. I never shared anything with her, not even money.

I knew Iris was a villager, poor and simple, so in my eyes this marriage was already her reward. I made sure she earned her own money, even though she had me, her CEO wife. Iris worked constantly, rarely came home early, and even when she did, I never bothered to care.

Until the accident happened.

One night, Iris got into a motorbike accident on her way home. She ended up in a coma for two years, and during those two silent years, I finally understood what it meant to lose someone. Even though we didn’t love each other, something inside me broke when I saw her lying unconscious on that hospital bed.

Since the day she woke up, everything in me shifted. I became protective… possessive even. I couldn’t stop worrying whenever she wanted to go out alone. I refused to let her ride her motorbike again. Her body was still weak, her organs not fully healed, especially her lungs after the pneumothorax. Sometimes she coughed up blood, and every time I saw it, terror clawed its way through me.

One morning, I saw Iris getting ready for work, her first day returning after three long years. As she reached for her helmet, I stepped forward and grabbed her hand, my tone firm.

"Nope. Not this. I have some rules for you before you start going back to work."

I didn’t want to be too controlling, but the fear of losing her again haunted me constantly. I bought her a new car just so she would be safer, and I secretly added money to her credit card to stop her from taking overtime like before… even though I had never given her a cent throughout our marriage.