Shocked: My Husband is the Protagonist of a Pornographic Novel!

I've realized that I'm living inside a novel.

The good news was, it's a romance novel, and I'm not the main character.

The bad news was my husband is one of the protagonists, and I am not.

One

I met Allen Lewis through a matchmaking arrangement.

My neighbor, a full-time housewife with money to spare, spent her days idly wandering around the neighborhood, keen on setting people up.

I initially intended to just go through the motions, but Allen truly had a deceivingly attractive exterior, aloof and distant.

A person like that still out matchmaking usually suggested a flaw somewhere of the physical kind.

"Hello, I'm Angela Reed."

Allen was sitting, so he looked up at me, his gaze inexplicably fierce, "Hello."

His reticence was a plus.

"Auntie mentioned you work in a state-owned enterprise. I'm quite envious—stable income, bright prospects and good benefits."

Allen paused while cutting his steak.

"I'm being straightforward here. It's matchmaking after all. I think our jobs and personalities complement each other well, shall we give it a try?"

Halfway through the meal, I realized I was at the wrong table. My neighbor had called me dozens of times, questioning why I stood her up.

I hung up the phone reluctantly, ready to leave when I couldn't help but ask Allen, "Why didn't you say anything?"

Allen fixed his gaze on me for a moment, "I'm here for matchmaking too."

"Sorry." I left to find my actual matchmaking partner, who was settling the bill.

"Can we use coupons here?" my intended date asked the server, who affirmed. "Your register doesn't show coupons right? Show them to the other customer when she arrive."

Without hesitation, I turned back to continue dining with Allen.

He seemed to smile when he saw me return, "Why come back?"

"Where's your date?" I asked.

"Stuck in traffic," Allen said casually, "said they couldn't make it."

I pulled out a chair and sat down, "Pretend I'm her."

Actually, there wasn't anything particularly impressive about Allen that day, but the comparison made him seem generous.

And from that day on, I always suspected Allen had some flaws, which later turned out to be his asexuality.

But now, it seemed the heroine is his cure.

Huh, so that can be cured.

Two

When I got home, Allen was there too.

Dressed in the ubiquitous white shirt and suit trousers, he didn't seem to have arrived much earlier than me.

This novel features five male leads: an artist, a puppy-like senior, a star, and one Allen.

From my experience with otome games, his archetype is the domineering CEO, a CEO pretending to be poor with me.

"Why are you so early today?"

He pulled a box out of his bag and handed it to me with one hand, "This is for you."

The moment Allen handed me the gift, I wondered if the heroine had received one too.

"It's beautiful. I love it." It was a pair of earrings.

I thought about it and looked him in the eyes, "Sapphires are expensive, aren't they?"

He remained impassive, not even blinking, "They're okay."

He better have actually spent real money on these genuine gems.

But I've always been bad at keeping things to myself, invisible when unseen, but in Allen's presence, I couldn't help but probe.

"Allen, today a friend told me her boyfriend pretended to be a rich second generation to deceive her. Speaking of which, it's all deception, but it's much easier to accept a rich guy pretending to be poor than a poor guy pretending to be rich, at least I can accept it."