Vegas' POV:

"I am going back home" I said while massaging my head that was hurting so bad as if it was about to burst.

I knew pete must already be in his college since it was a working day so going home wasn't a problem.

I reached the room and after throwing away my tie and shoes and undoing the first few buttons of my shirt, collapsed on the bed.

Vegas' POV Ends.

Third person POV:

"The room feels so much quieter without that chirpy chick" He melted into the bed as his mind and eyes started shutting down to give him a little break but barely had he rested for a little while, when his phone started ringing because of a text.

"I swear this world makes me want to murder people" He grudgingly thought as he picked up the phone to check who the text was from and abruptly sat up after seeing the name of the sender.

It was from Porsche. He excitedly opened the chat to check what had he sent but to his mild disappointment it was not exactly for him.

"Hey, Pete just texted me that he accidentally left his notebook on his desk, can you bring to me? I am in the parking lot" The text read.

"Why does he care so much about Pete?" Vegas muttered feeling irritated but letting go of his grudge, he went on to look for the notebook.

Thankfully it was right on Pete's desk. Vegas picked it up but accidentally dropped it before he could secure a proper hold on it.

It had opened up after falling down but not paying much attention to it, Vegas picked it up. However, just as he was about to close it, he caught a glimpse of a word that looked a lot like "flirt" which piqued his interest.

He flipped through the pages and soon the page which Pete and Charlie had used to communicate with each other in the library opened up.

"Well...cute guy sitting right beside me?" His eyebrows furrowed as he read the lines written.

"This doesn't look like Pete's handwriting...is it some other guy's?" A number of possibilities started crossing his mind all of a sudden.

"No wonder his clothes had a different scent on them yesterday. I wonder if he had purposely left them in the washroom for me to see it." He muttered to himself as he clutched the notebook tightly.

He was feeling agitated and picked his phone up to call someone in order to gather every information regarding Pete's activities in his college and about the person he was talking to but stopped before hitting the dial button.

"But why should I care?" A conflict arose inside his mind.
The grudge he had was stopping him from following his heart.

He threw his phone on the bed and closed the notebook after glancing over it for one last time. He sat down on the sofa to calm his agitated self down which wanted to both refrain from taking any action as well as keep Pete away from other guys.

Right then his phone rang again reminding him of the task that he was supposed to do. He went towards the bed to pickup the phone and opened it only to find another text from Porsche.

"Did you get it?" It read.

"Yes" He kept the reply compact and hurried down to deliver the notebook to him.

"How's your headache?" Porsche asked while shoving the notebook into the backpack.

"Still killing me" Vegas whined.

"Then...sorry for making you work...did you take any medicine?" Porsche asked, feeling a little guilty for making him work while he was sick but Vegas was in no mood to give a simple reply.

"Not yet. How about you give it to me?  I am sure I'll get better in no time if I have someone to take care of me." He said trying to subtly hint it to Porsche to take care of him.

"Just take your medicines and rest for a while, bet it'll work just the same, bye then...your husband is waiting for me." Porsche smiled shutting down his request and after patting his shoulder to get better soon, drove off on his bike.

Vegas looked quite annoyed with how many people seemed to flock Pete but suppressed the feeling thinking that it was unnecessary.

A few hours later:

There was an emergency at the office because of which Vegas had to go back to work despite the awful headache making him intolerant.

Everyone in the office already had a rough idea about it and strictly kept all the conversations as minimal as possible to not get on his nerves.

Finally he was done with his work after a few hours and returned back feeling completely drained and ready to hit the bed.

"Why is it so silent today?" He thought as he entered the room. Pete was nowhere to be seen and as he was scanning the whole room to see if Pete was maybe hiding somewhere due to whatever reason, his eyes fell on the medicine strip kept on the bed.

"Did Porsche keep this here?" He smiled as he picked it up.

"I thought you only cared about kinn huh?" Vegas victoriously clutched the strip feeling estatic. Right then, Pete entered the room while holding a glass of lukewarm water along with a bag of chips.

"How's your headache?" Pete enquired and Vegas' smile dropped immediately upon hearing that.

"Who told you about it?" He asked defensively.

"Oh? I have an automatic headache detector which notified me that 'the headache' is suffering from a headache! Isn't it amazing?" Pete said in a dramatic tone.

"You have a knack of getting on people's nerves don't you?" Vegas looked at him in disbelief.

"Porsche informed me ofcourse." Pete smiled sarcastically before answering the question.

Pete's POV:

"So this medicine was not left here by Porsche?" Vegas mumbled before tossing the medicine onto my desk.

"Eat it" I politely ordered.

"Stay away from me" He said in a low but harsh tone.

"Why would I still be here if I had an access to such a luxury?" I said to get on his nerves even more even though my mind was already warning me not to take it any further.

"Did I not warn you before to not get married to me?" He said looking a little angry by now.

"If you had such a big problem with this whole marriage, then why didn't you refuse to do it in the first place?" I spewed out. Even though I was trying to stop myself from saying all those things, my body was acting on it's own accord. Perhaps a little love and comfort from my new acquaintances had given me the courage to stand up to him.

"Don't talk nonsense without knowing about the whole thing" He threatened me but I had no intention to stop anytime soon.

"Then tell me! What do I need to know huh?! That you are a jerk who assumes that everyone is in a better position than you simply because they don't show their grief to the world? Or that you are just a coward who only knows how to threaten others but not how to turn something down that he doesn't want to do?" I could see the rage devouring his mental sanity but it was already too late to take anything back.

"Am I the jerk?! Huh?! Pete? AM I?! Was I even asked if I wanted to get into this relationship in the first place?! NO! I WAS JUST ORDERED TO MARRY YOU AS IF I WAS JUST BORN TO FOLLOW ORDERS! BECAUSE OF THIS, I JUST GAVE YOU A SIMPLE TASK - TO REFUSE, BUT YOU COULDN'T DO THAT AS WELL!" He screeched.

"AND WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THAT I WAS GIVEN ANY CHOICE AT ALL?" I screamed back at him.

"YOU WANT ME TO BEL-" Vegas was interrupted by a knock on the door before he could complete his sentence.

"Come in" He ordered while looking away to calm himself down.

"Khun Vegas, Khun Korn is calling for you to discuss an urgent matter with." The bodyguard informed.

"Ok. Get out" Vegas ordered him to leave the room but instead of immediately following the order, he stayed for a few moments as he looked at me as if he was scanning me from head to toe, and right as he was leaving, I caught a glint of disgust in his eyes probably directed towards me.

I felt uncomfortable for a second but shrugged off the feeling thinking that it must be a misunderstanding.

A few days later:

I looked at the wall feeling listless, a whole week of dealing with the ordeals of life had sapped out all energy out of me. Although college was going great especially with Charlie around, my married life was a mess. Vegas had always been the irritable kind but his annoyance was increasing with each passing day, to the point that I was walking on eggshells everytime I was in the same room as him.

After observing the man who had come to inform Vegas that night, I had managed to extract a little information about him.

Apparently his name was Ken and he had been appointed as a bodyguard not too long ago. After that night, he had started disregarding me blatantly, probably because of getting to witness the instability of our relationship and my questionable position in the house, which had given him the reassurance that he could treat me however he pleased.