Between Love and Obligation

Chapter 1

"Mr. Langley, I've prepared the documents you requested," said Henry Caldwell, Marcus Langley's trusted assistant, as he handed over two copies of the divorce agreement. He hesitated, searching for the right words. "Um, when do you plan to present this to Mrs. Langley?"
As Marcus’s personal aide, Henry was acutely aware that the marriage between Marcus and Edmund Fairfax was a mere formality—a family arrangement rather than a passionate union. Their wedding had been nothing more than a response to Lord Jonathan Langley’s desperate wishes. Facing a terminal illness, Lord Langley had forcefully used the family fortune as leverage, compelling Marcus to comply.
Being dictated to was something Marcus despised most, particularly about his marriage. Long before he had wed Edmund, he had already set his heart on someone else—a woman who had gone abroad to pursue her studies. After she left, Marcus rejected all coupling proposals and matchmaking endeavors laid out by his family, holding out hope that his first love would return.
As fate would have it, rather than welcoming his true love back to his arms, Marcus was confronted with an unexpected marriage certificate and a mandatory marriage to Edmund Fairfax, son of the influential Fairfax family. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
If it hadn’t been for Edmund’s remarkable ability to manage the household and keep the Langley family affairs in order, Marcus would have long since sought an out from this surreal arrangement. However, now, with the prospect of his white moonlight (his ideal woman) returning to the city, he sensed an opportunity for closure.
Eagerly, he instructed Henry to finalize the divorce papers. The agreement mirrored their initial understanding: if the marriage dissolved, Edmund would walk away empty-handed.
Over the years, the volatility of their relationship had simmered down. Edmund had taken remarkable care of Marcus, genuinely striving to fulfill the role of a devoted husband. Despite his privileges as a once-fortunate child, Edmund had humbled himself to provide stability for Marcus, running their lives seamlessly.
Their relationship had lacked romantic love, but it had fostered a bond of friendship, a kinship even. The thought of pushing Edmund out of his life without any consideration felt excessively harsh.
“Wait,” Marcus paused, his fingers lingering over the document. “Let’s make a change.”
Henry looked up, surprised. “What would you like to change?”
“Transfer ownership of our current home, The Willow Cottage, and Edmund’s Artisan's Studio, to him,” Marcus replied.
In the years of their unconventional companionship, Edmund had relentlessly devoted himself to Marcus’s needs, a gesture he couldn’t dismiss lightly. Had it not been for the return of his true love, Marcus believed he could have tolerated spending a lifetime with Edmund.
Yet, time and again, what he felt for his lost love far outweighed his appreciation for Edmund's unwavering support and caring demeanor. Now that Isabella Hargrove was coming back, the thrill of unrequited love resurfaced, prompting him to take the leap toward divorce.
He reasoned that it was time to conclude the agreement they had forged, as they had entered the union through convenience, not through love. Even if Edmund protested, he couldn’t simply change his course of action now.
“Keep this under wraps for now, Henry. I have my plans,” he instructed, knowing the timing of their anniversary was crucial. Edmund had been eagerly prompting him to celebrate their connection for the past month.
Marcus decided he would take the opportunity to navigate through that last celebration with Edmund as a form of closure before he revealed his intentions.
Henry misread Marcus's caution as a desire to avoid receiving any unsolicited pushback and assured him, “Don’t worry, sir; this stays between us until you choose to tell him. No one will learn a thing.”
Satisfied with Henry’s loyalty, Marcus placed the divorce agreements inside his briefcase, glancing at the clock. He prepared to gather his belongings for an early departure.
“Mr. Langley, are you leaving already?” Henry noticed the time, just shy of their usual end of workday.
“That’s the plan.” Marcus adjusted his collar and took a deep breath, bracing himself for what awaited him outside those office doors.

Chapter 2

Marcus Langley was known for being a workaholic, the kind who would stay long after the lights had gone out in the office.
He was a disciplined man, rarely indulging in the kind of "power play" that allowed for early clocking out. So when Henry Caldwell suddenly asked him about it, he felt a tinge of embarrassment.
"Edmund Fairfax said he wanted some steamed buns from Joyful Street today. The line is always crazy, and since I’m leaving early anyway, I figured I’d go grab some before it gets too late. You know how he can be—if I show up late, he'll definitely have something to say about it."
Henry Caldwell paused, his eyes narrowed at the man before him. Here was Marcus, a man who had a divorce agreement still stashed away in his briefcase, but now he was off to stand in line for his estranged wife’s favorite buns. Henry couldn’t help but think that maybe printing that divorce agreement wasn’t such a great idea after all.
Guessing what Henry was mulling over, Marcus earnestly defended his actions, "Don't read too much into this. Just because I'm fetching steamed buns for him doesn't mean I care for him that way."
Their relationship was a balance of mutual giving and receiving; Edmund had always treated Marcus kindly, so when he made a small request, Marcus often found himself obliged to comply.
He tried comforting Henry with, "I’d do this for any roommate or friend, really."
Henry raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Really? You think I haven’t seen you burying me in work since day one here?"
Marcus waved a dismissive hand, "We'll talk about your raise next time."
Ah, the cruel reality of capitalism.
With the difficulty of being a worker bee weighing on him, Henry just offered a polite and awkward smile. "Well, have at it."
And with that, Marcus left work with a bounce in his step, heading to pick up the freshest batch of buns for a woman he didn’t love.
When he finally got his hands on the steaming buns, Marcus recalled how Edmund had specifically asked for them while they were still hot. He rushed home, eager to avoid his wife's inevitable complaints about tardiness.
By the time he reached their place, the buns were still warm in his hands.
As he arrived home, the smart lock on the door recognized his approach, the soft chime announcing, "Please speak your passphrase."
Without missing a beat, Marcus answered nonchalantly, "My wife is the cutest."
Once he spoke the code, the lock engaged its face recognition and fingerprint check to grant him entry.
Originally, the lock only required a fingerprint and a facial scan, but somehow, Edmund had dug up a feature that necessitated a voice password. At first, Marcus was reluctant, but after a few persistent, puppy-eyed requests from Edmund, he relented.
Initially, he felt awkward saying those words, but eventually, it rolled right off his tongue.
Hearing the door click open, Edmund rushed to greet him, but his version of a "greeting" was always unique.
Just as Marcus expected him to leap into his arms, he quickly set the buns aside and caught him in a firm embrace, keeping him safe and steady.
"What’s the frenzy about this time?" Marcus chuckled, running a hand through his hair.
Edmund looked up with wide eyes. "What about my steamed buns?"
Marcus wore an exasperated, surrendering grin and pointed, "On the couch."
The moment he mentioned the buns, Edmund sprang off him and pogoed towards his prize like a child unwrapping a birthday gift.
The steaming buns were still hot, confirming that Marcus had genuinely hurried to bring home fresh pastries for Edmund.
Wiping his mouth post-first-bite, Edmund swiftly kissed Marcus on the cheek.
"This is a reward."
Before Marcus could react, Edmund was off like a playful cat back to his art studio.
With half the buns still remaining, their original creator devoured his fill and scampered away to paint, leaving Marcus to finish the last of the buns in solitude.
Sighing in bemusement, Marcus polished off the remaining buns, then headed to the bathroom for a refreshing shower and a change of clothes before retreating to his home office.
In the three years of their marriage, he and Edmund had always maintained separate bedrooms.
They coexisted in silence, one working late into the night in the den, while the other claimed the master suite as his own.
While they didn’t fulfill the usual roles of husband and wife, spontaneous moments like earlier would occasionally spark a kind of intimacy between them, though they were mostly initiated by Edmund.
Marcus sensed his wife truly cared for him, constantly seeking opportunities to draw closer.
Over the years, he’d thought about embracing their union in the traditional sense, but memories of a past heartache held him back, keeping him at arm's length from this vibrant person he now shared a home with.
There was a knot in his heart that remained tightly wound.
With Isabella Hargrove returning to the country, Marcus felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps this lingering conflict within him could finally unravel.
Years flitted by like smoke in the wind.
Marcus and Isabella had been classmates in high school.
At that time, Isabella was painfully thin, malnourished like a fragile leaf that could blow away with a single gust of wind.
Add to that the trouble with her gambling-addict father, who would lash out at her without warning, and life became unbearable. During their military training, when the blistering sun bore down on them, Isabella fainted outright.
Marcus was the one who carried her to the infirmary that scorching day.
Without feeling any fatigue in his legs, he had simply thought she was too slight to be left in distress.
How could a girl be so unnaturally thin?
From that day forward, he made a point of bringing her extra food from home, sometimes a bottle of milk, sometimes a few dumplings.
Initially resistant, Isabella gradually accepted Marcus's kindness, particularly when he insisted they sit together in class, making themselves familiar enough for her to finally accept his “charitable gifts.”
Gossip spread fast in their class, and from the moment Isabella stepped onto campus, she had become quite the notable figure among their peers.

Chapter 3

What kind of gambler's son gets beaten up and has his mother run away? These are the gossip headlines that everyone in town is buzzing about.
And then there’s Isabella Hargrove, whose story is nothing short of legendary.
With top grades that earned him a full scholarship and living expenses to boot, Isabella had to balance studies and part-time work just to pay off the seemingly bottomless pit of his father's gambling debts.
Such a remarkable backstory naturally evokes both jealousy and pity from his peers.
Pity often comes from a place of arrogance.
Those who extended their "noble" hands to help him often reveled in their ability to look down on him from their financial and family towers, while they covertly undermined him under the guise of charity.
From a young age, Isabella had seen too many of these kinds of people, so he thought Marcus Langley fit neatly into that mold too.
But Marcus proved to be different.
He never flaunted his privilege, nor did he boast about how blissful his family life was. Instead, he quietly stood by Isabella, helping him navigate through the storms of cruelty and being the light in his darkness.
Sometimes, Isabella found it hard to believe that someone could be genuinely altruistic and kind without wanting anything in return.
So, during the summer after their sophomore year, he asked Marcus, “Do you like me?”
Seeing the immediate flush on Marcus’s face, Isabella's heart raced; he felt he understood everything in that moment.
He took off his shirt to reveal a body marred with scars and asked Marcus, “If you want this, take it.”
He didn’t care for his body, but if it brought joy to Marcus, he would gladly give it.
But Marcus was not pleased.
That was the first time Isabella saw Marcus cry.
Isabella had never witnessed Marcus in tears before.
Wiping his own eyes, Marcus slipped Isabella's shirt back on before tenderly tracing his scars and pulling him into an embrace.
And Isabella held him just as tightly.
It felt warm.
His sun.
·
Marcus Langley woke with a start, memories of high school flooding back—those days spent alongside Isabella Hargrove.
They had both agreed to attend college together in the same city after graduation, but then, in Marcus’s junior year, Isabella suddenly cut off contact for a whole month before announcing he was going abroad for further studies.
Their teenage crushes were left unspoken, although Marcus always felt they understood each other.
He had already made plans to take Isabella back to Langley Manor after graduation, declaring to the world that Isabella was the one for him.
But before he could bring those plans to fruition, Isabella disappeared overseas, deleting all of Marcus’s contact information and leaving behind only a heartfelt letter, asking him to stop reaching out.
Marcus was stunned.
He reflected on all the moments they shared, remembering how Isabella’s expression would cloud with sadness whenever their conversation turned toward the future.
The signs had been there all along.
Marcus suspected that it was Lord Jonathan Langley, his father, who had orchestrated Isabella’s departure, preventing their relationship from blossoming.
Consequently, his relationship with his father had soured over the years. As for Lord Jonathan’s choice for a daughter-in-law, he had a particularly bad taste for Edmund Fairfax.
Marcus recalled how, right after marrying Edmund, he would mock him for every little mistake, belittling everything he did.
Edmund always put on a brave front, wearing a smile that faded just as quickly as it appeared.
As time passed, Marcus realized that acting like a critic was providing him no satisfaction.
What’s more, he recognized that a man like Edmund, who had grown up with a silver spoon, was genuinely trying his best to accommodate both their needs.
Marcus’s heart wasn’t made of stone; anyone showing such unconditional kindness would tug at anyone’s heartstrings.
So, he decided to stop making life difficult for Edmund; as friends and roommates, they deserved better.
Their relationship gradually improved under these new terms.
As the days wore on, Marcus occasionally entertained the thought that maybe living the rest of his life with Edmund wouldn’t be so bad after all.
But only if Isabella didn’t return.
Unable to sleep, Marcus tossed and turned, finally rolling out of bed to turn on the lamp. He retrieved the divorce agreement he had drafted and began flipping through it again.
The more he read, the more he felt the conditions he had set were harsh.
The divorce agreement was something they had both agreed on early in their marriage: if, after three years, Marcus still felt no love for Edmund and wanted a divorce, Edmund would walk away with nothing, just to grant him his freedom.
As the deadline approached, the divorce agreement loomed larger.
Even though they were getting closer to the freedom date, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease and anxiety.
If he were to leave, just giving Edmund the house felt awfully petty.
With that thought racing in his mind, he dialed Henry Caldwell, his assistant, yet again.
“Hello, boss.” Henry’s voice came through, still sleepy but dutiful. “What can I do for you at this hour?”
Marcus was taken aback, realizing it was already four in the morning. Although having a personal assistant meant someone would be on call 24/7, this late hour felt too unreasonable.
“Never mind, just—get some sleep. We can discuss it in the morning.”
“No way. Whatever it is, let’s talk now,” Henry insisted, fully awake, sensing the urgency in Marcus’s tone.
“Actually, it’s not that big of a deal,” Marcus admitted, feeling the late-night span was leading to an emotional overreaction.

Chapter 4

“I'm just thinking about revising the divorce agreement we talked about earlier.”
Henry Caldwell was jolted awake at the mention of the divorce agreement. “What do you want to change?”
Marcus Langley, while speaking, started taking notes. “Besides the house and the studio, I want to acquire the art gallery that Edmund Fairfax is using for his upcoming exhibition and put it in his name.”
The gallery was located in a prime area and was quite expensive. Although the price was trivial for Langley House, Henry Caldwell raised an eyebrow at the request.
He stopped writing. “Boss, even without your gift, Mrs. Fairfax could afford those things herself.”
It was easy to forget that Edmund Fairfax wasn’t like other second-generation tycoons. Unlike his peers who flaunted their wealth, he had a grounded approach to life, making Marcus Langley acutely aware of the disparity.
Marcus fell silent.
Now, he found himself at a loss for what further compensation he could offer Edmund. In his professional life, Marcus was decisive and ruthless, but when it came to his marriage, he felt like an awkward clown, tangled in confusion.
Henry sighed, sensing the turmoil in his boss. “Are you truly set on ending things with your wife?”
Over the years, the kindness Edmund Fairfax showed to Marcus had not gone unnoticed by anyone, including Henry.
"Even if the person you’ve been thinking about comes back, how can you be sure they still love you like before?" Those words felt like an overstep for a personal assistant, so Henry chose to tread carefully.
“Boss, please cherish the person you have now.”
“Don’t wait until it's too late to regret something.”
**Morning Meetings**
Marcus had a seven o'clock meeting with The Guild and set his alarm for six to rise early.
After a quick wash-up, he headed to the kitchen, planning to whip up a simple breakfast. To his surprise, he found a familiar figure in the kitchen.
Edmund Fairfax, looking every bit the doting spouse, had prepared a lavish breakfast spread. When he saw Marcus, he smiled warmly. “You’re up! Come eat before it gets cold.”
Marcus took a bowl of congee, and the warm, fragrant soup brought a comforting sensation that spread through his body.
“Is the sun rising in the west today?” Marcus remarked, his disbelief mingling with gratitude at Edmund’s unexpected culinary skills.
It had been a while since Edmund cooked breakfast, and Marcus was overwhelmed, his mind racing through possibilities. Had he done something wrong recently? Was this a farewell meal?
Edmund shot him a look, unamused. “You’ve been acting strangely lately.”
“What do you mean?” Marcus’s heart sank; he couldn’t let Edmund suspect anything.
Edmund himself couldn’t articulate what felt off; he simply sensed a distance where there once was warmth between them.
He tapped his bowl, frowning, “It just feels... odd.”
Marcus decided against mentioning the divorce for now, trying to maintain an air of calm. “You’re overthinking it. Focus on the art exhibition; you’ve got enough to handle without adding my worries to your plate.”
Edmund’s mother, Lydia Fairfax, was a renowned master of traditional Chinese painting, with a reputation for charging six-figure sums per piece. As her son, Edmund had inherited immense talent, with his works fetching five figures each—a small fortune by anyone's standards.
This exhibition not only marked their wedding anniversary but also served as preparation for Edmund’s upcoming solo auction.
“I understand.” Edmund said flatly, falling silent afterward.
Marcus could tell Edmund was upset. He instinctively wanted to reassure him but remembered that increasing their emotional bond now would only make the forthcoming separation harder. So, he held his tongue.
In reality, had Marcus chosen to comfort Edmund in this moment, any flicker of doubt would likely have faded. But his silence contributed to Edmund's growing certainty that Marcus was hiding something from him.
Once they finished breakfast, Marcus practically bolted out the door, while Edmund set off to his studio to paint.
As he passed the study, he noticed that Edmund had left his briefcase behind on the table. Remembering that Marcus had a meeting to attend, Edmund quickly retrieved it and called Marcus.
“Marcus, you left your briefcase at home.”
Caught off guard, Marcus felt a rush of panic. He had hurried out, completely forgetting the briefcase. The thought of the divorce papers nestled inside sent a chill down his spine.
“I’ll be right back.” He hung up and quickly turned the car around, hoping Edmund wouldn’t discover the documents.
He remembered securely closing the briefcase. Despite Edmund’s obsessive nature regarding emotions, he was too proud to snoop through Marcus's things.
Marcus sped home, only to run into Edmund, who was hurrying out the door with the briefcase in hand.
Breathless, Edmund glanced at the clock. “You’re lucky I caught you—otherwise, you’d be late for your meeting.”
Marcus noticed the briefcase still had its zipper closed; there was no sign of it being tampered with. His heart began to settle. “Thanks.”
Maybe he ought to trust Edmund a bit more.
Just as he prepared to leave, Edmund called out, “Marcus.”
Surprised, Marcus turned back.
Edmund regarded him with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher, his eyes glimmering with something uncertain.
“I remember, Isabella Hargrove was also an art major, wasn’t she?”
At the mention of that name, Marcus felt a jolt of anxiety. It wasn’t so much that Isabella was a taboo subject for him, but rather that her name coming from Edmund’s lips felt weighty.
This mention belonged more to Edmund than to Marcus.
Taking a few steps closer, Marcus peered into Edmund’s eyes. “Why are you bringing her up out of the blue?” His gaze probed, searching for answers in Edmund's expression.
Edmund chuckled softly, “Just thought of her in relation to the exhibition, since she was an art major in college too.”

Chapter 5

Edmund Fairfax was a junior to Isabella Hargrove, even though they didn’t share the same major. Still, her name was one he heard often, resonating like a distant thunderbolt.
“He's nothing like you,” Marcus Langley said, and as the words left his lips, the smile on Edmund’s face faded a bit.
Realizing the potential misunderstanding, Marcus quickly clarified, “You’re in traditional Chinese painting, while he’s into oil painting.” One is Eastern, the other Western—naturally different.
Edmund’s expression softened, though he still looked a bit pale, as though Marcus's words had struck a sensitive chord.
Words from a beloved can cut deep, and though Marcus hadn’t meant any harm, they struck a nerve in Edmund’s heart, which was already raw and exposed.
Everything about Isabella felt like a looming threat to him.
In the years since they had married, Marcus had never once spoken the word “love” to him, yet at the start of their marriage, he had made it unmistakably clear that every word he directed at Isabella was laced with love.
Even after three years of marriage, Marcus had never touched him.
Edmund often told himself that things would work themselves out, that love would naturally flourish when the time was right. Besides, why should he be the one to make the first move? His pride wouldn’t allow him to be so humble.
At one point, he consoled himself by believing that Marcus loved him too; he just hadn’t realized it yet. But now, doubts began to cloud his mind.
He found himself wanting to ask Marcus a vulnerable question.
“Do you love me?”
Both men paused, caught off-guard by Edmund’s unexpected question.
Edmund regretted asking, fearing the answer would not be what he hoped. Yet, there was a flicker of hope—a yearning that maybe their three years of marriage might have stirred something in Marcus’s heart.
But could feelings of gratitude really be equated with love?
After a moment of hesitation, Marcus replied, “Do I really have to answer that?”
Edmund was taken aback and managed a weak smile.
So that’s how it is.
He decided not to dwell on the question any longer, stepping forward to place a gentle kiss on Marcus’ cheek, “You should go. You’re going to be late for work.”
Compared to Marcus's initial indifference when they married, things had improved significantly.
Perhaps he had been too eager.
After all, they still had many years ahead of them. Edmund remained hopeful that one day he would win Marcus’s heart, convincing him to forget Isabella forever.
From then on, his heart would belong entirely to him.
Henry Caldwell noticed that his boss had been out of sorts lately.
Recently, Marcus had stayed late at the office for various reasons, even going so far as to share cafeteria meals with Henry, a senior staff member—something he had never done before.
It felt as if he were hiding from someone.
“Boss,” Henry said, glancing at Marcus as he savored his lunch, leaning in slightly, “Can you be honest with me for a moment?”
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
“Are you in some kind of debt, or have you offended someone recently?”
Marcus set down his chopsticks, an earnest expression crossing his face, “You’ve figured it out.”
Henry had thrown the question out casually, not expecting to hit the nail on the head. “No way, you really…”
With a finger to his lips, Marcus gestured for silence, and Henry quickly caught on, lowering his voice, “Is there anything I can do to help?” As Marcus’s loyal assistant, it was only natural to support his boss.
Recently, Marcus had been quite troubled.
It seemed Edmund had become clingier than normal, developing an astonishing knack for detecting Marcus's absences, causing Marcus to hesitate about returning home.
“Actually, there’s a reunion tonight with former classmates, but I’m worried about Edmund…” Clever individuals tend to communicate veiled sentiments, and Henry understood immediately.
“Your excuse is that you’re working late, and you haven’t left the office at all.”
Marcus clapped Henry on the shoulder, “You truly are my best assistant.”
Henry offered a compliant chuckle, “Why not just tell your wife?”
While Edmund could be a bit obsessive and intense regarding Marcus, he wasn’t completely unreasonable. Had Marcus simply explained he wanted to attend a class reunion, Edmund would likely have accepted it.
But therein lay the catch.
“There’s Isabella at the reunion.”
As a close friend and capable assistant, Henry was well aware of Marcus’s painful past with Isabella.
Isabella's upbringing could not have been more different from Marcus’s, who had grown up in a world of privilege. Her story was marked by hardship—her mother had abandoned their family, and her father was a gambling addict who constantly abused her for money or scolded her.
During high school, Isabella oscillated between attending class and working to help pay down her father's debts until she met Marcus, which offered a glimmer of hope.
That life continued until the very day they finished high school when Isabella’s father died in a car accident. The compensation she received went entirely toward paying off his debts; the remainder allowed her to buy a plot of land for his grave.
After high school, despite attending different colleges, they remained close since their schools were nearby.
In truth, they had never truly been together as a couple in anyone's eyes, simply two young souls who weathered life’s toughest storms together.
But Marcus always felt there was a thin veil that separated him from Isabella—a confession that could have changed everything.
Had he only gathered the courage to express his feelings back then, perhaps she wouldn’t have left so abruptly for abroad without saying a word.
Reflecting on the hasty decision to marry Edmund, Marcus couldn’t deny that part of him had acted out of defiance, frustrated by Isabella’s sudden departure without offering any explanation.

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