Ethan was lying in bed under a dark gray blanket, breathing evenly like he was out cold.

But the bed clearly had a single setup-just one side was used. The other half was perfectly smooth, not a single crease in sight, and even the pillow still looked freshly fluffed. No question-no one had slept there.

Grace's expression instantly turned sour. She spun toward Carol, completely dropping the gentle facade. "Which room are you staying in?"

Before Carol could even say a word, there was a loud clatter from the guest room-that was the metal pen holder she'd knocked down earlier while hurrying downstairs. It rolled across the floor, sounding unusually loud in the quiet house.

Grace's eyes zeroed in on the guest room and she stormed over. She shoved the door wide open.

Inside, Carol's drawing tablet and unfinished designs were still laid out on the desk. Her cardigan was draped casually over the chair. Skincare products lined up on the nightstand-every detail screamed that this was where she actually lived.

"Oh, great. You two are still sleeping in separate rooms?" Grace turned around, her voice low but stern, clearly trying not to wake up Ethan upstairs. "Did I not make myself clear last time? You're husband and wife, not some random roommates!"

Before she'd even finished, a rustle came from the master bedroom.

Ethan had already gotten out of bed. He was wearing dark satin pajamas, and even half-awake, his posture was upright and composed. His face looked pale, but his eyes were sharp and totally alert-no sign of just waking up.

"Mom." He walked over to Carol's side, his tone calm and level. "I told her to stay in the guest room. I've been having coughing fits at night. Didn't want to disturb her."

"Didn't want to disturb her?" Grace clearly wasn't buying it. She looked between the two of them, disapproval all over her face. "She's your wife. Taking care of you is part of that. Sleeping in separate rooms-what kind of message does that send? What about the Mitchell family's reputation?"

"The family's reputation won't fall apart just because we sleep in different rooms." Ethan's voice stayed steady, but there was a firmness underneath. "I know what my body can handle. No need to drag her into my mess and mess up her sleep too."

Grace was momentarily stumped, but she quickly turned to Carol, her tone softer but still laced with authority. "Carol, I know you're a reasonable girl. Just pack up your things and move back into the master bedroom today. I'll wait downstairs. You let me know when it's all sorted, and I'll be on my way."

Carol glanced at the determination in Grace's eyes, then at Ethan beside her. With a small sigh, she nodded. "Alright."

Only then did Grace relax a bit. She immediately had the driver start moving Carol's things from the guest room to the walk-in closet.

She followed in person, fussing the entire time. "Hang your clothes on this side, easier to access. Keep your daily stuff on the dressing table-no clutter. And if Ethan starts coughing at night, make sure he has warm water within reach..."

Carol didn't really respond, just gave a nod here and there.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Ethan leaning against the closet doorway, both hands in his pajama pockets, gaze fixed vaguely out the window. His expression was unreadable.

He didn't stop Grace from nagging, didn't say much of anything, like he wasn't really part of the situation-but at the same time, his quiet presence eased some of the burden off Carol.

By the time the clock hit 1AM, Grace had made sure every one of Carol's things was in the master bedroom and had watched them walk into the room together before she finally left, satisfied.Before leaving, she turned back and reminded, "Keep an eye on Ethan tonight, don't just fall asleep on your own."

The moment the door clicked shut, silence instantly filled the master bedroom.

Ethan walked to the window and drew the heavy curtains, shutting out the night completely. Then he turned around, glancing at Carol who was standing in the center of the room, voice calm, "If it's uncomfortable for you, I'll have Jack set up a bed in the study."

"No need," Carol replied right away, pointing to the carpet in the corner, "I can just sleep here with a blanket. Anything's better than getting ambushed by Mom again."

Ethan's eyes dropped to the rug, brows faintly furrowing, but he didn't argue. He headed to the bedside table and picked up a stack of papers-clearly work that hadn't been finished during the day.

Leaning against the headboard, the soft light from the lamp outlined his sharp profile. His fingers flicked through the documents with practiced ease, like the earlier disturbance had never happened.

Carol didn't expect help from him anyway. She pulled a thick cashmere blanket from the closet and spread it over the carpet.

Lying down, she listened to the sound of flipping paper nearby, oddly comforted by it.

Half-asleep, she felt something warm and slightly heavy draped over her. A faint woody scent lingered, familiar and calming, but she was too tired to open her eyes. Sleep pulled her under quickly.

The next morning, Carol woke up on her own.

Opening her eyes, she noticed a blanket had been placed over her during the night.

It was him.

Her heart skipped a beat, a quiet warmth blooming in her chest.

She folded the blanket neatly and set it on the nightstand before stepping softly out of the room.

On the kitchen bar sat a simple breakfast-sandwich and warm milk. No clue if the housekeeper made it or if Jack had brought it over.

After finishing the meal, Carol headed to the study. As she reached the door, she heard Ethan inside, voice cool and firm, carrying that sharp edge only business talks can have: "The risk analysis on this plan is too rough. Have the risk control team redo it. I want it on my desk by five."

He hung up and looked toward the doorway where Carol stood. His expression unreadable, gaze deep. "You're up?"

"Yeah." Carol nodded. "Grace called just now. Said she baked banana bread for you. Told me to bring it by."

She lifted the warm food container in her hand, passing along the message from Grace.

Ethan nodded, gesturing toward the desk without breaking from the screen in front of him.

Not until he typed the last word and closed the document did he finally open the container. His tone, as usual, was unbothered but meaningful: "Don't overthink what she said about having kids."

Carol walked over, leaning slightly on the desk with both hands. She had to admit, this close, Ethan's good looks were seriously next level. When he focused, there was this glow in his eyes that messed with her inner fangirl. She couldn't help teasing him a little.

"Are you saying I'd be taking a loss having your kid?" she smirked. "With your genes, Ethan, I'd say I'd be the one coming out ahead."

She had expected him to ignore it or shut it down coldly. What she didn't expect was that he actually looked up. His gaze was deep as ever, tone still calm, but there was something a bit more probing about it. "You've got a pretty unique take on what counts as a loss."

Carol chuckled. "Your banana bread's gonna lose its warmth. Eat it while it's still good. I'm heading to the office."

Ethan nodded slightly. As she walked out, he drummed his fingers lightly on the desk, eyes still thoughtful.

Winter had sunk its claws deep into Riverton, and the damp chill in the air seeped right into your bones.

With Christmas just around the corner, fairy lights and evergreen garlands adorned the streetlamps on both sides of the road. Storefronts had been dressed up with snowflake decals and "Merry Christmas" signs. Even though the villa hadn't been decorated-mostly because of Ethan's health-the holiday spirit still found its way in.

That morning, the sky was gloomy, and fine snowflakes began to fall quietly.

For a southern city like Riverton where snowfall was a rare treat, this was a pleasant surprise.

Carol was stirred awake by the soft glow filtering through the curtains. She opened the window, and a sharp gust of cold hit her face, mixed with a few delicate bits of snow.

She blinked in surprise, stepped outside, and instinctively stretched out her hand to catch the tiny flakes.

The little six-point snow crystals melted instantly in her warm palm, leaving the softest trace of moisture. But just that tiny moment managed to curve her lips into a pure and simple smile.

Ethan stepped out of his study with a glass in hand, planning to refill it. That's when he saw her standing there.

She was wearing a fuzzy pale-pink loungewear set, her figure slim, her face turned slightly up, eyes tracing the falling snow outside. Her outstretched fingers, fair and slender, mirrored the whiteness of the snow drifting down. Her profile looked unusually peaceful in the dim light.

He paused mid-step, watching silently for a moment before quietly asking, "Aren't you cold?"

Carol turned to look at him, eyes still lit with astonishment. She shook her head. "Nope."

Spotting that he was only in a cashmere sweater, standing halfway out into the hallway, she gave a little wave and half-coaxed, "Come out here for a bit. It's cold, but bracing. Builds character."

Ethan raised an eyebrow at that, his voice hinting at both annoyance and amusement. "Where'd you even hear that kind of folksy nonsense?"

He'd always been the one everyone tiptoed around, too fragile to risk the breeze, much less the cold.

Still, despite his words, his legs moved like they had a mind of their own. He stepped out from the comfort of the hallway and came to stand beside her under the gentle snowfall.

Carol's eyes glimmered with a mix of triumph and something softer, and her tone carried a tiny note of pride. "It's not nonsense. My mom always said so. She was never wrong."

As the words left her mouth, her eyes dimmed for a second, like some memory surfaced.

Mom, lying in bed, forcing a smile as she told her gently but firmly, "I won't be able to stay and watch you grow up." That memory always left a bitter pull in her chest.

A sudden gust blew flakes at Ethan's face, and the chill it carried triggered a faint itch in his throat. He turned away and coughed lightly, twice.

Oddly, the shallow tightness in his chest that had lingered over the past few days... actually felt a little looser.

Carol snapped back to the present instantly at the sound of his cough.

Almost without thinking, she grabbed the thick woolen blanket draped over the nearby lounge chair and wrapped it around his shoulders. Her movements were swift but gentle.

"I'm not as frail as you think." Ethan frowned slightly, feeling the warmth and her closeness, his instinct to pull back kicking in. He still clung to a certain distance, a bit of restraint.Carol acted like she didn't hear a word he said. She lifted her head and stared straight into Ethan's bottomless eyes. There was a quiet kind of intensity, like she wanted to cut through that frozen shell of his and reach whatever was buried beneath.

Her voice was soft, spilled out by the wind, but there was a clear weight behind it, unmoving and stubborn. "Ethan, I don't want you to die."

Ethan froze like someone had just slapped him with a sentence he never saw coming-blunt, out of the blue, no sugarcoating.

He met her gaze, and in those eyes reflecting his own, there wasn't a hint of sarcasm, calculation, or pity. Just that kind of pure, stubborn concern that refused to back down.

It hit him-somewhere between his ribs and his heart-with a strange, unfamiliar ache.

He moved his throat, lips parting just a bit, like he was gonna say something. But in the end, the words locked up tight and nothing came out.

Carol was the first to snap out of it. That sentence she blurted out? Yeah, she just realized how wildly inappropriate it was-heat rushed up her face.

She quickly looked away, embarrassed, and tried to play it cool with a casual tone that didn't match the fluttering mess inside her chest. She grabbed the edge of his blanket and tugged. "C'mon, let's head back inside. Freezing makes you tougher, sure, but with your condition... let's not test fate, okay?"

The feel of the wool under her fingers, and the clean scent of him mixed with cold winter air-it all messed with her heart rhythms for a second.

*

Night crept in, and Carol was still alone in the villa.

Ethan had gone out in the afternoon and just... never came back. Didn't say where he was going, either.

Her phone buzzed against the silence. It was Sophia. She wanted to come over, share a drink, and complain about the stress of year-end deadlines.

Carol glanced around the room, all warm lights and empty space, and hesitated.

Ethan wasn't a fan of guests, even if Sophia was her bestie. Less drama's always better, right?

After a few seconds, she tapped out a reply and they agreed to meet at their usual spot-a private, quiet members-only bar with the chillest vibe.

Sophia got there first. When Carol walked in wrapped in the lingering cold, Sophia zipped over, voice low but full of gossip-mode hype. "Girl! Guess who I just saw? Your husband!"

Carol paused mid-jacket removal, surprised. "Ethan? He's here?"

With that fragile body of his? What's he doing in a bar?

"Over there," Sophia jerked her chin subtly toward the semi-private seating on the second floor. "See? Talking to some guy."

Carol followed her gaze, and yeah-there he was. Ethan sat in one of the upstairs booths, kind of angled toward them but not looking their way.

He had on a dark grey turtleneck, coat tossed casually beside him. The mellow yellow lighting touched the sharp edges of his face, making his pale skin stand out even more, but his back was still ramrod straight, like he belonged in a painting you couldn't ignore.

He wasn't holding a drink, exactly-just a heavy-bottomed glass, steam curling up from the rim.

"With his health, and he's still drinking?" Sophia muttered, then blinked. "Wait... Is that hot water? Who drinks hot water out of a whiskey glass?"

Then her eyes caught the guy sitting across from Ethan, and her interest took another sharp turn. "Whoa, and who's that? Never seen him before. Kinda has that bad-boy vibe going on. Doesn't match your husband's whole iceberg aesthetic."

Carol looked too.

The man was wearing a flashy color-block shirt, a couple buttons undone like he didn't care, and had a crooked smile like he didn't take anything seriously. He leaned back, relaxed, chatting away with Ethan like they knew each other well.

The whole scene didn't quite add up.

Upstairs, Alex Ellis caught a glimpse of someone from downstairs looking up. He cleared his throat with a smug little smirk and shifted in his seat, subtly showing off his defined jawline.

He nudged Ethan across the table with his elbow and lowered his voice, half-joking, "Hey, Ethan, do I look even hotter from this angle? Those two girls downstairs have been staring over here for a while now. You think one of them's into me?"

Ethan blinked slowly, casting a glance downstairs just as Carol tried to discreetly avert her gaze. Their eyes met for a split second before Carol quickly turned away, lifting her glass and pretending to chat casually with Sophia, like it was just some random glance.

Ethan, unfazed, pulled his gaze back and brushed his fingers around his warm glass. His tone was flat, unreadable. "Maybe. But with that kind of vibe, I'd say she's the type to juggle more than one guy."

Alex looked like he just heard something wild. He turned, eyes wide behind his gold-rimmed glasses. "You sure you're not still running a fever? Did it fry your brain or something? Since when do you crack jokes like that?"

Clearly itching to try his luck, he flexed his fingers and grinned. "What do you think-odds I grab her number if I head down right now?"

Without even looking up, Ethan shot back, "She's married."

"Married?" Alex didn't think about Ethan's comment too hard. He just figured Ethan was being his usual sarcastic self. He sneered lightly, "A girl like that, hanging around a place like this? No way she tied the knot that early."

With that, he straightened his already-careless collar, picked up his drink, and swaggered downstairs toward Carol's booth.

Putting on what he thought was a killer smile, Alex looked straight at Carol. "Good evening. All alone tonight?"

Sophia rolled her eyes hard, unimpressed. "Alone? What, am I invisible to you? You blind or just rude?"

"You-" Alex blinked at the unexpected snap, obviously thrown off. He narrowed his eyes at Sophia, his tone turning sour. "They say like attracts like, but you and your friend here? Total opposites."

He gave Sophia a quick once-over, making it clear he thought Carol was out of her league.

Sophia practically jumped out of her seat, ready to throw down. "Excuse me?! I-"

"Sir," Carol's voice cut in calmly, stopping the argument before it exploded.

Her gaze was steady on Alex, but then her eyes drifted upward, catching sight of Ethan still sitting upstairs like nothing was happening. A cold mix of disappointment and irony settled in her heart. So he saw-and said nothing? Just let his friend try to hit on her?

Maybe, to him, being his "Mrs. Mitchell" didn't mean much at all.

She forced a slight, indifferent smile and asked, "He didn't mention who I am?"

"He? Who?" Alex, still riding the wave of confrontation, froze for a second. He followed her gaze to Ethan, sitting there chilled as ever, and suddenly it clicked. His expression shifted to sheer confusion. "Wait-you know Ethan?"

Right then, Jack stepped in like a shadow, appearing silently at Carol's side. He ignored the brewing tension completely, gave a small bow, and asked respectfully, "Mrs. Mitchell, Mr. Mitchell wants to know if you'd like to head back now."

"Mrs. Mitchell?!" Alex practically choked, spilling his drink.

He stared at Carol, then Jack, jaw dropping. The two people he stared at didn't say a word, but Sophia, clearly annoyed with alcohol spilled on her top, instantly exploded. She grabbed Alex by the arm and snapped, "What the hell! You better pay for this, or I'll make sure you won't walk outta here on your own!"

...

Upstairs on the second floor, Alex slumped into the seat across from Ethan with an annoyed face. "Dude, really? You just stood there and watched me chat up your actual wife like it was some kind of reality show? You gotta admit, you got a twisted sense of humor."

Ethan took a slow sip of hot water, barely glancing at him. "Didn't I already tell you she was married?"

Alex nearly choked. He ran that moment back in his head-yeah, Ethan had mumbled something like that, but come on, that tone? It sounded more like a brush-off than a real warning. And seriously, that was his wife?

Speechless.

Now that things were starting to make sense, Alex leaned in, lowered his voice with a bit of curiosity. "Hey, I mean, it was arranged by your family, right? And you don't even seem that into it. If you really don't like her, just call it off already. Seriously though-her looks, her figure, her vibe... totally my type."

Ethan's fingers gripped the cup just a little tighter, knuckles faintly whitening.

He shot a cold glance at Alex, something unreadable lurking behind his eyes. It wasn't loud, but it felt like a silent don't-push-it. Without saying a word, he set the glass down, stood up, and left. Just like that. Cold, distant, and not looking back.

Alex rubbed his chin, staring after him as he disappeared around the stairs. There was a big question mark on his face.

"What's his deal..."

*

A few days later, Carol picked up some unexpected info during a talk with Simon about Ethan's condition.

Turned out, there might still be a sliver of hope.

A leading medical center in the U.S. had developed a new procedure aimed at cases just like Ethan's. In theory, there was a chance it could fix everything.

Problem was, the risk was sky-high. The success rate-if you were being generous-barely hit fifty percent. Could be even lower.

The Mitchells, especially Grace who doted on her son like her life depended on it, weren't about to roll the dice on something that risky. They'd rather play it safe than risk losing everything.

But Carol just couldn't see Ethan as the type to surrender to fate. A fifty-fifty shot might terrify most folks, but for someone living on borrowed time? That was more than enough reason to bet big.

Maybe it was guilt over failing to save her own mom, or maybe it was the months of living together and seeing glimpses of his vulnerable side through all that armor.

Either way, she couldn't sit there and watch him fade away.

So she reached out to a top-tier traditional medicine expert through Simon's contacts. The guy was a legend in handling rare conditions like Ethan's. Her plan was to combine traditional therapy with the surgery-to boost his odds of pulling through.

She set the first appointment with high hopes.

That afternoon, she cleared her schedule and got home early. She painstakingly cooked a few of Ethan's favorite lighter dishes, nothing fancy, just something he'd actually eat. She was ready-mentally, emotionally-to tell him the news.

But as the clock ticked and ticked, the food went from steaming to stone cold, and Ethan still hadn't shown.

By 8 p.m., she checked her phone. Thought about calling him. But then her hand froze mid-reach. Given how distant he'd been lately, would calling make her look desperate?

She hesitated... then put the phone back down and waited.

When the hands hit ten, stomach growling, dinner cold and untouched, she finally gave in and dialed Jack.

"Ma'am, Mr. Mitchell flew out of the country this afternoon. Something urgent came up. He might be gone for a few days," Jack said, his voice tinged with apology.