Devid didn't say much on the drive.
Ava sat beside him, hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes quietly admiring the world outside the window as it passed her by. She hadn't been outside in months not for leisure. Not for herself.
The city felt like freedom.
He parked near a quiet street lined with cherry blossoms, just beginning to bloom. A small, cozy café sat at the corner with outdoor tables, gentle music playing, and warm light spilling out the windows.
Ava blinked. "It's… beautiful."
He didn't respond. He just opened the car door for her.
She stepped out, her long skirt brushing her ankles, and followed him quietly.
They sat at a corner table, the breeze catching her hair as she looked around in awe so much life, so many colors. She couldn't stop smiling.
"Thank you," she said gently, sipping her drink. "It means a lot."
Devid watched her over the rim of his coffee cup.
She didn't realize it, but she glowed. With sunlight on her skin and a soft smile dancing on her lips she looked like something he didn't deserve to look at.
He cleared his throat. "It's just coffee."
"But it's not just coffee to me," she whispered. "I haven't… been outside like this in a long time. It's the first time I feel like…" she hesitated, then smiled shyly, "...like a wife."
His chest tightened.
No bitterness. No sarcasm. No expectations.
Just gratitude.
He looked away, heart pacing in an unfamiliar rhythm.
They walked afterward.
The petals from the trees fluttered down, catching in her hair. She stopped to admire a stray cat lounging on a windowsill. She smiled at a child holding her mother's hand. She said "thank you" to the barista twice.
Everything she did was soft.
He had grown up around ambition, manipulation, deals and power. This… was foreign.
When they reached the car again, she looked at him with that same quiet smile.
"I liked today," she said. "Even if you don't take me out again, I'll remember this."
He swallowed hard.
Without thinking, he reached out brushed a cherry blossom petal from her hair.
She froze.
So did he.
He quickly stepped back, masking the sudden warmth in his face with a cold grunt.
"Get in the car."
But even as he pulled away from the sidewalk and drove back toward the mansion, he couldn't stop glancing at her reflection in the rearview mirror.
Her smile stayed with him.
And maybe for the first time since their wedding…
He wondered what it would feel like if she smiled like that every day… for him.
(The next morning)
Devid was already dressed when Ava walked into the dining room.
He didn't wait for her.
But he left a cup of warm tea at her spot.
She noticed it right away black tea, the way she always made it for herself.
She sat down slowly, heart fluttering.
It was such a small thing.
But it meant everything to her.
She sipped it with both hands wrapped around the cup, letting the warmth seep into her skin and into the loneliness she didn't talk about.
He didn't look at her once.
But that cup…
That cup said more than his words ever did.
Later that day, she found a box outside her room. Inside were new sandals nothing extravagant, but comfortable, soft, and in her favorite color.
No note. No name.
But she knew.
She held them close for a second, whispering to herself, "Thank you."
It became a pattern.
He wouldn't speak much. He wouldn't smile.
But the hallway lights were always turned on when she walked to her room late at night.
Her favorite blanket was folded neatly on her bed one evening when the weather turned cold.
One morning, when she was coughing softly, a bottle of cough syrup appeared on her nightstand.
He never mentioned any of it.
But he was watching.
Caring.
In his own way.
One night, she stood in the kitchen late, unable to sleep. She opened the fridge quietly, reaching for water when a low voice made her jump.
"What are you doing here?"
She turned to find Devid in the shadows, shirt loose, hair messy.
"I..I couldn't sleep," she stammered, eyes wide like she got caught.
He stared at her for a moment, then walked to the fridge, took out a small bowl of fruits, and handed it to her without a word.
"Eat," he muttered.
She blinked. "O-Okay."
She sat down at the counter. He stayed across from her, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
They said nothing.
But the silence was warm.
And that bowl of fruit cut and chilled just right was sweeter than anything she'd tasted in months.
She looked up at him with shy eyes.
"Thank you…"
He didn't answer.
But he stayed there with her until she finished.
And that night, when she went back to her room she smiled at herself under the covers.
Because sometimes, even cold hands can hold you gently.
Devid came home past midnight again.
He expected silence. Darkness.
But the dining room lights were still on.
And there she was Ava sitting at the table, half-asleep, head bobbing slightly, hands folded in her lap. In front of her, his dinner was warm, freshly made, untouched.
She jolted awake when the door clicked.
"S-Sorry… I just… waited in case you were hungry."
He didn't speak.
Just walked past her.
She stood quietly, following him. He didn't ask her to. She just did because it was her place.
In the kitchen, she gently uncovered the food, placed it in front of him, and poured him a glass of water.
Then she stood by the counter, waiting to see if he needed anything more.
"You could've gone to bed," he said flatly.
"I know," she whispered. "But I wanted to do something… something as your wife."
He didn't answer.
But he ate. Every bite.
The next morning
she was up before him. His suits were freshly pressed, laid out with the perfect tie. His shoes are polished. Briefcase packed.
She even placed a flask of black coffee by the door.
Devid didn't ask for any of it.
But she did it anyway.
Not to please him.
But because it felt right.
She was his wife… and she was going to be one. Fully.
That afternoon, she cleaned his study. Organized files. Dusted every surface. Refilled ink pens. Her hands were red from the chemicals, but she didn't mind.
That evening, she massaged his shoulders when he looked tired gently, carefully, respectfully.
He didn't stop her.
Didn't thank her either.
But didn't push her away.
Even when he was cold… silent… even cruel in his short tone she never broke.
She didn't cry in front of him.
She smiled softly every morning. Bowed her head when he passed. Sat with him in silence at dinner, only speaking when he let her.
And still, she warmed his tea the way he liked.
She closed his window when he left it open.
She prayed for him at night secretly hands clasped, eyes closed, heart full of pain and yet strangely… peace.
Until one night, when he came home and saw her asleep on the couch outside his study.
She had waited.
Again.
Just to ask if he wanted soup.
His heart twisted.
Why…? he thought.
Why was she doing all this? Without demand. Without question.
Why was she still… smiling?
He bent down slowly. Picked her up without waking her.
She was so light.
So warm.
Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck in sleep.
And for the first time since their marriage…
He held her close. Willingly.
Not out of desire.
But something far more dangerous.
Attachment....