My five ghostly husbands
Chapter 355 I just wanted to help you, wife

Chapter 355: Chapter 355 I just wanted to help you, wife

Ruby rubbed her thumb over her knuckles, looking at the display screen. She knew exactly what the witch meant. The photos were neat but they didn’t capture what made her raincoats special. It wasn’t just about Karl’s silly grin or the perfect lighting. It was the feeling she got every time she saw a child skip through the rain without fear, or an old man tug his hood up and laugh about how he didn’t itch anymore.

She stepped closer and gently touched Karl’s shoulder when he turned to her, beaming. "Karl, you’re doing good — really. But maybe we need... something else."

Karl tilted his head, his bright blue eyes wide and shiny, like he was trying so hard to understand what was missing. He held the edge of his raincoat sleeve in one hand, fidgeting as he glanced at the children now sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing with the umbrella and giggling among themselves.

"What else, wife?" he asked, his voice softer than before, not his usual dramatic pout but a small, genuine worry that crept into his words. "I smiled so big my cheeks hurt! The kids look cute too — look at them!" He pointed at the smallest girl, who was hugging the folded umbrella like it was her favorite toy.

Ruby didn’t answer right away. She rubbed her thumb over the side of her finger, eyes darting to the wide windows where the light had turned gloomy. The rain had started up again — a slow, steady drizzle that made the whole room feel dim. It wasn’t that good kind of gentle mist either; it was thick and cloudy, making the big space feel cold and flat. The photographer adjusted her camera for the third time, but every time she clicked, Ruby could tell from the tiny frown on her face that it wasn’t right.

The whole morning had slipped away like that — one hour, then another. The children had grown restless, running around the room until they got scolded gently by the assistant. Karl had tried his best — big smiles, little dances, even picking up one of the boys and spinning him around but nothing felt alive on the camera screen. The colors dulled under the changing light, the fabric didn’t catch the shine the way it should, and the poses looked staged instead of sweet.

She looked up when she felt a gentle tug on her sleeve. Karl was closer now, his head dipped so he could look at her eyes. He wasn’t pouting or acting silly.. just Karl, her Karl, with worry knitted into the tiny lines on his forehead.

"Wife," he said softly, "it’s not working, is it? Is it... because I’m not good? Did I do something wrong?" He laughed a little, but it sounded so small. "Maybe... maybe I don’t look right. Or I’m too silly. Or... or I don’t know how to stand like those fancy city models. Maybe you should’ve found someone else."

Ruby’s mouth opened, but at first, she couldn’t find the words. She felt a tightness in her chest, the kind that came with frustration when things didn’t fall into place the way they should. Outside, the rain drummed harder against the window.

She wanted to tell him it wasn’t him. She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t the kids, or the coats, or the camera. But right now, she didn’t have a solution.

Karl shuffled his feet. He looked down at the floor, then at the kids, then at her again, chewing the inside of his cheek. "I just wanted to help you, wife," he mumbled, so quiet she almost missed it under the rain’s patter. "I wanted people to look and say, ’Wow, those coats are so pretty! I want one too!’ I wanted you to smile and say I did good."

Ruby’s eyes stung a little at the corners. She reached out and squeezed his sleeve, her other hand brushing at a stray hair sticking to his forehead. The kids kept giggling behind them.

**

Ruby rubbed her palms together, trying to warm her cold fingers as she glanced at the children sitting on the clean cloth spread out in the bright area. She’d asked someone to run out and bring back warm buns and sweet snacks for them. They’d been at this for hours.. posing, standing still, waiting through the gloomy rain and the click-click of the camera that always seemed to miss something real.

Now the kids sat in a little circle, giggling as they broke pieces of bread to share, bright hoods half-on and half-slipped off their heads, small hands brushing crumbs from each other’s sleeves. The smallest boy held his piece up to Karl, who was sitting cross-legged right there with them, trying to keep them entertained. Ruby felt a tiny warmth at the sight — at least they weren’t scared or bored.

She let out a quiet breath and turned to the photographer, who was reviewing the shots again on her small screen. The witch’s neat black hair was tied back now, a few wispy strands sticking to her cheek as she frowned at the dull images.

Ruby cleared her throat, her voice softer than usual. "Do you... have any idea?" she asked. Her words came out almost hesitant.

The photographer glanced up, her green eyes thoughtful behind the tiny glasses perched on her nose. She tapped the edge of the screen with her finger, flipping through each stiff pose — Karl’s wide grin frozen, the kids standing too straight, the coats too crisp under the bad light.

"It’s not that your raincoats aren’t good," she said gently. "They are good — really good. The kids look happy wearing them, the fabric falls nicely, the colors pop even with this bad weather..." She trailed off, then shook her head slightly. "But the photos... they don’t feel like anything."

Ruby frowned, crossing her arms. "What do you mean?"

The photographer turned the screen toward her, pointing at Karl’s dramatic pose, the kids lined up like tiny dolls beside him. "It feels like a performance. But you’re not selling theatre costumes. You’re selling something for people to live in.. for children to run in, for families to wear when they walk through the rain. It should feel like that."

Ruby followed her finger on the screen that flat, lifeless moment. It didn’t show the giggles, the little twirls, the way the fabric moved when Karl spun a child around. It didn’t show the warmth she’d felt the first time she saw a village kid pull up the hood and grin under the drizzle.

—To be continued...🪄