Trash Husband, I'm the Top novel Chapter 21

She tried to get up and leave, but Daniel held her back.

“Daniel?” Aurora’s confusion was plain.

They had just spent the day at each other’s throats—how could he expect closeness now?

She couldn’t accept it. Not like this.

She tried to rise again, only for Daniel to pull her back, this time more forcefully. She tumbled against his chest, their bodies tangled in an intimate, ambiguous pose.

His broad hand pressed firmly against her waist, making it impossible for her to break free.

Annoyance flickered in Aurora’s eyes as she looked up at her husband, her voice cool and distant. “Is this supposed to be fun for you?”

Daniel bent down and kissed her, slow and lingering, full of longing.

Aurora neither resisted nor responded.

His interest quickly waned, and he broke the kiss with a sigh, tilting his head back.

He brushed his fingers through her hair, his voice low and rough-edged, still heavy with emotion. “Aurora, what’s so wrong with being the lady of the house? I can give you everything—status, wealth, comfort. All I ask is that you play your part.”

She lowered her gaze, closing the book in her hands. The title—*The Art of Fragrance*—stared back at her, stark and familiar.

If she’d ever truly wanted to be a dutiful, ornamental wife, she would have stepped back two years ago, when Daniel claimed the family inheritance amid a crowd of uncles and illegitimate sons.

Three years of living side by side, and he still didn’t understand her.

Or maybe he’d never cared enough to try.

He didn’t know how much she loved creating perfumes, nor how fascinated she was by the alchemy of blending scents—how new fragrances emerged from the fusion, each one a small miracle.

With deliberate care, Aurora straightened up, slipped her pale fingers through her dark hair, and smoothed it out.

“Daniel, if you want to support Eleanor, that’s your business,” she said quietly, her tone calm, her face serene.

It was just like when they’d first married three years ago: two strangers, suddenly bound by the closest tie the law could offer.

She had always been this way—gentle voice, soft smiles, yet always keeping her distance.

Daniel’s face set in a hard, blank mask. The warm orange light faded from the room, replaced by a heavy, stifling anger.

The warmth of friendship settled in Aurora’s chest, easing the ache a little.

She put down her phone and soon drifted into sleep.

***

In the dead of night, Aurora woke with a start.

A flash of lightning tore through the darkness, followed by a shuddering clap of thunder.

She clenched the blanket in her fists, face pale in the dim room. A clammy dampness seemed to seep from the walls, growing thicker, stifling her breath.

The thunder grew louder. Pain flickered in her bones, spreading through every limb.

Aurora curled up, clutching her belly, biting her lip so hard it turned white.

It was as if she’d been thrown back to that night.

“My baby,” she whispered in agony, her whole body trembling. “Please—save my baby.”