Thinking about it that way, Carol didn't feel so against Jack's long list of dietary restrictions anymore. She mentally jotted them all down.

When Ethan sat down at the table, Jack figured there was no need to order from Golden Hearth today, so he quietly stepped out to make a call and rearrange things.

The vibe at the table was... a bit awkward.

Carol broke the silence, reaching for the serving fork as she glanced at the roasted chicken and vegetables in the center of the table.

"Ginger glaze. Makes the skin really crisp. Might be a little strong, though."

She carved off a tender slice from the breast, avoiding the heavily glazed skin, and laid it gently on Ethan's plate.

"I know ginger's not really your thing. This one's milder."

Ethan looked down at the chicken, then at Carol's quiet focus. His eyes darkened slightly, thoughtful.

Carol didn't seem to notice or care about his reaction and just started eating on her own.

She never wasted food and believed in finishing every meal. She dug in and polished off her plate in no time. By the time she looked up, she noticed just how refined Ethan looked while eating-moving slowly, gracefully, not making a single sound. Everything about him screamed meticulous elegance.

She couldn't help but clear her throat awkwardly and sat up straighter.

Ethan glanced at her and said flatly, "Trying to act proper now? Don't you think it's a bit late?"

Carol wasn't embarrassed at all. She grinned and replied casually, "You don't get it-gotta look a little put-together in front of someone I like. Who knows, maybe if I fake it long enough, you'll end up falling for me."

Ethan's eyebrows twitched. Her bluntness caught him off guard, and he set down his fork.

Carol blinked at his barely-touched plate. "That's all you're eating? You're done already?"

Ethan shot her a look and said, with a hidden meaning, "No appetite." Then stood up and headed upstairs to the study without another word.

Carol looked at the half-finished plate of chicken she'd gone out of her way to ginger-proof.

She muttered under her breath, "...Seriously?"

What a prideful guy.

Just then, Jack came back from his call. His eyes landed on Ethan's plate-and stopped.

The slice of roasted chicken was clearly touched. A bite or two gone.

Jack blinked, almost double-checking.

He remembered every single time Ethan turned up his nose at anything with ginger.

"Too harsh," he'd say. "Gets in the way of the actual flavor."

And now?

Carol caught his look and smiled. "All done with your call? Want to eat something with me?"

Jack quickly put on his usual blank expression and declined politely, "No thank you, Mrs. Mitchell."

"Pfft-"

Carol had just taken a sip of water and almost spit it out, coughing a bit after choking on it. She waved her hand awkwardly. "Whoa, first time I've heard someone call me 'Mrs. Mitchell,' not used to it at all."

Jack stayed stone-faced, tone neutral. "You'll get used to it, ma'am."

Carol just chuckled and started tidying up the table. Jack, standing off to the side, reminded her, "Mr. Mitchell doesn't eat leftovers."

So picky...

Carol rolled her eyes inwardly but smiled on the outside. "Relax. I'm keeping it for the stray cats and dogs, not for him."

Seriously, guy doesn't cook and still complains? Just be glad there's food at all.

Jack watched her move efficiently and hesitated for a second before speaking. "Ma'am, there's something I still don't quite understand. Mind if I ask?"

Carol, without looking up, kept tidying and replied casually, "You wanna know why I agreed to marry someone who's basically one foot in the grave, right?"

That bluntness almost bordered on rude, and Jack instinctively glanced upstairs, displeasure flickering in his eyes.

Carol straightened up, meeting his gaze with calm eyes. "I already said-it's to repay a favor. If it were for money-"

She pointed at her own striking face with a smirk. "Come on, with this level of beauty, you think I couldn't land myself in any rich guy's bed in Riverton? Why would I stick around a man who might, well, drop dead at any minute?"

Jack couldn't help casting a couple more glances her way.

The evening sun poured through the window, spilling soft light over Carol. Her skin was porcelain fair, her features delicate-yeah, she did have that unforgettable kind of charm.

Honestly, she wasn't totally exaggerating.

But still, looking at all the rich men in Riverton, who could beat the Mitchell family in wealth?

Then Jack remembered that document Carol had signed-waiving all rights to marital assets. She'd walked away from every possible benefit this marriage could bring her.

So what was she really after?

None of it made sense. Jack set the thought aside, offered a polite nod, and stepped out quietly.

At the stairwell, Ethan frowned slightly, his gaze falling away from the figure in the dining room below.

Repaying a favor?

Only kids would fall for that kind of fairy tale.

He'd already had Jack dig into their past-there was nothing. No connection, no life-saving heroics. Nothing.

...

Carol hated doing dishes, so she didn't bother. Anyway, the cleaner came by regularly. She married into this house to be a lady of leisure, not Ethan's personal maid.

With nothing else to do, she went back to her room, pulled out her drawing tablet, and got to work on a design project.

She was technically on leave, but the grind never stopped.

That upcoming bid deadline in two weeks? All riding on this proposal.

In the middle of sketching, her phone lit up with a flood of messages from Sophia.

[Babe!! How's it going? That scary demon man treating you okay?]

[Are you alive?? Say something or I'm calling the cops!!]

[*buff guy smile meme* Here, feast your eyes! Recharge with hotness!]

Carol let out a laugh and typed back:

[Alive and kicking. The villa's pretty nice. I cooked. He ate it. So far, so good.]

Sophia responded in a flash:

[!!! He actually ate your cooking?? Wasn't he supposed to be all twisted and cold-blooded? What happened to scaring off every poor blind date?? Carol, you're acting weird. He's acting even weirder!]

Carol: [I'm 87% sure he's been body-snatched. Or maybe I'm dreaming.]

Sophia: [Now that's more like it.]

They bantered a bit more before Carol finally put her phone down and returned to her drawing.

She was used to pulling all-nighters for work. By the time she looked up again, it was already late.

Stretching with a yawn, she climbed into bed, ready to knock out-when a faint cough cut through the silence from the room next door. It didn't stop, just kept going-soft, rasping, shaking, like someone was really trying to hold it in but couldn't.

One cough. Another. Like something caught deep in the throat, dragging itself out with painful persistence, ripping through quiet air.

Carol froze, eyes wide open.

Ethan.

She held her breath, straining to listen.

The coughing didn't let up. It was getting worse, more urgent.

She thought back to dinner earlier-how his face had that odd flush against an otherwise sickly pallor, his occasional gesture toward his chest.

"I'm not cleaning up your mess," he'd said coldly, sparing no kindness.

He'd made it clear he didn't want her around, didn't want her in his space.

The smart move now would be to pretend she heard nothing. Just go to sleep.

This was Ethan-he had doctors on speed dial, a world-class medical team. If anything serious happened, he'd press a button, and Jack or some surgeon would show up instantly. Didn't concern her, really.

Right. Pretend nothing happened.

Carol turned over and pulled the blanket over her head.

But the coughing-grating and unrelenting-clawed at her ears, hooked into her gut.

She remembered his pale, almost colorless hands, remembered how he sat back in that lounge chair earlier, sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains, making him look fragile and distant, like something breakable behind glass.

"Ugh." With a grumble, Carol pushed herself up and ruffled her hair in frustration.

She slid on her slippers, quietly got out of bed, and padded toward the door.

She grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and walked to Ethan's bedroom door, giving it a couple of knocks. "Ethan, you alright? I brought you some water."

The coughing inside stopped abruptly, and everything went dead quiet.

After a long pause, his voice came through the door, weak but sharp as ever, carrying a detached coldness. "No need. Go back to sleep."

Just from his tone, Carol could almost picture his expression-cold, distant, completely closed off.

She held the slightly heated glass in her hand and replied softly, "Okay.

"I'll leave then."

She wasn't the type to keep trying when clearly not welcome. She turned to leave but hesitated halfway, pausing, then leaning back toward the door with her ear pressed to it, still worried.

It was so quiet inside that it made her uneasy.

Suddenly, the door swung open from the inside.

Carol froze mid-action, awkwardly straightening up from her odd posture.

She met Ethan's deep, unreadable eyes. His gaze seemed darker than usual, probably because he'd just had a heavy coughing fit. A bit of moisture lingered in his eyes, making him look slightly more human.

"I'm not dying anytime soon," he said hoarsely, voice still cold and distant.

Carol held out the glass. "Still, have some warm water."

He gave her a look, brows furrowed ever so slightly, skeptical. "It's pointless. Warm water won't cure me."

"I know," she said casually. "But your throat must feel awful after all that coughing. A bit of warm water might help, you know?"

Ethan didn't take the glass, his tone laced with sarcasm, like always. "You had the chance to walk away, but you chose not to. So what's the point-pleasing a guy who might be on his deathbed won't get you anywhere."

His eyes scanned her face, as if trying hard to dig out even a hint of insincerity beneath her calm, almost annoyingly gentle gaze.

But all he found was quiet steadiness, and maybe... real concern?

Carol blinked, her tone light. "Well, everyone dies someday. But while we're alive, might as well not make it harder than it already is. I already got the water anyway-makes sense to try and feel at least a bit better, right?"

Ethan was taken aback, not expecting that response.

While he was still processing, Carol slid the cup into his slightly cold fingers, turned on her heel, and walked away with ease.

"Get some rest."

Ethan just stood there, staring down at the warm glass in his hand. The surface rippled slightly from the earlier movement.

A faint, unfamiliar scent lingered in the air-something gentle and warm, so out of place in this cold house. It was hers.

He stood there for a long time, so long that his legs started to go numb and that scratchy feeling in his chest began creeping back again.

Finally, his pale fingers gripped the glass a bit tighter.

The heat from the glass stung his cold skin slightly, a strange kind of sensation.

With the glass in hand, he turned around, walked back into the room, and shut the door behind him.

The hallway outside fell silent again.

Inside, he placed the glass on the bedside table. He didn't drink it.

He just sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard, eyes closed and brows slightly furrowed, lost in thoughts that wouldn't leave him alone.

The night was far from over.

...

The following days passed without a ripple.Carol worked her 9-to-5 and came home to make dinner.

Every time she thought about whipping up something spicy to treat herself, Jack's voice would echo in her mind, "Mr. Mitchell can't handle spicy food," and before she knew it, she'd end up cooking something bland again.

Over the phone, Sophia practically shouted, "You, of all people, living on spice, now suddenly eating bland food just for him?"

"Carol, be honest with me. Don't tell me you've fallen for him? Look, I get swooning over a good-looking guy, but he's seriously ill! Falling for him is like jumping into a pit!"

Carol rolled her eyes at the phone. "Falling in love isn't as simple as flipping a switch, okay? Plus, too much spice isn't great for skin either. Let's just say I'm trying to eat clean.

"He's good-looking, sure, but don't worry, he's not some prince charming in my book."

Sophia sounded half-desperate, "Just promise you won't catch feelings, alright? Do not fall for someone you shouldn't!"

Right after hanging up, Carol got a call from Jack letting her know Ethan had an evening engagement and wouldn't be home for dinner.

It was the first time since they got married he had dinner plans away from home, and Carol was a bit surprised.

She figured, hey, with him out of the house, it was finally spicy time. But turns out, bland was her new default-she'd already seasoned everything mild without even thinking.

She had just finished eating when she heard the door open-Ethan was back.

Seeing his gaze sweep over the spotless dining table, Carol explained, "Didn't you have dinner out? I didn't make anything for you."

Ethan just gave a low "Mm" and headed upstairs to his study without another word.

Carol didn't think much of it and went back to sketching her designs.

But later that night, when everything was quiet, a loud crash from the kitchen made her jump.

She opened the door and found Ethan collapsed on the floor. A shattered glass lay next to him.

Panicked, she called Jack and rushed him to the hospital.

After some checks, the doctor said it was a stomach issue. Guilt instantly washed over Carol.

Was it because she hadn't made dinner for him...?

Jack looked apologetic. "Sorry, ma'am. We were at Golden Hearth restaurant, and I thought Mr. Mitchell would eat something, but he didn't touch much.

"Maybe... he wanted to come back and eat your cooking."

Carol found that hard to believe. No way Ethan wanted to come home just to eat what she cooked.

If she were facing a stranger she couldn't kick out, she wouldn't want to come home either.

Still, guilt settled deep in her gut.

Before heading to work that morning, she packed up some homemade chicken soup and asked Jack to drop it off at the hospital. Luckily, Ethan's condition wasn't too serious, and he got discharged that same day.

But somehow, the word made it to the family estate before she even got off work. Grace Carter had already summoned her home.

Carol knew exactly what was coming and quietly prayed for mercy under her breath: Lord, please help me.

As expected, the moment she stepped into the estate, Grace greeted her with a frosty, "Carol, you're here."

Carol quickly put on a smile and took the lead, "Grace, it's my fault. I didn't take care of Ethan properly..."

Seeing her admit fault right away, Grace couldn't lash out too much, though her tone still carried subtle blame.

"Ethan's health isn't great; he needs more of your care. You two share a bed, don't you? How did he even collapse?"

Carol was about to have a headache just trying to keep her smile in place. Her tone stayed earnest though. "Grace, don't worry. It was totally my fault this time. I'll take better care of Ethan from now on, I promise."

Grace's face softened a little at those words, clearly appeased.

When she heard from Jack that Ethan had been eating all the meals Carol cooked lately, surprise flickered across her face, quickly followed by satisfaction. "Good girl. Knew I picked the right one.

"You'll cook tonight too, okay? I mean, even when I personally make something, Ethan barely touches it sometimes. Seems like he's got a soft spot for you..."

Carol couldn't really say no at that point, so she agreed.

She thought maybe that was the end of it, but after dinner, Grace pulled her aside into a side room, and things only got more awkward when the topic shifted to having kids.

"Ethan doesn't have much time left, you know. You two should... make the most of your nights," Grace hinted rather bluntly.

Carol's face heated up as she floundered for a response. "Grace, we just got married. We're still figuring each other out..."

Grace gently patted her hand and said in a slow, meaningful tone, "I'm not saying you shouldn't build feelings. Love can be made too, while you're at it."

Carol was so caught off guard her face instantly turned red. And then came the final line from Grace: "You two aren't going home tonight. Stay here."

Carol had been counting on Ethan to object-he didn't.

After dinner, he just went upstairs like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Carol followed behind, confused. "We're really not going back?"

Ethan was loosening his tie as he said flatly, "A priest is coming by tomorrow morning to say a blessing."

That's when she remembered Grace had mentioned it over dinner-something about bringing someone in to bless the place for Ethan's sake.

She couldn't help wondering-someone like Ethan, highly educated and rational, actually believed in this stuff?

Almost like he'd read her mind, Ethan said after a pause, voice laced with subtle exhaustion, "I don't buy into any of it."

This was for his mother-her last bit of hope.

He'd long stopped caring about living, but he didn't want to take that hope away from someone who cared.

He turned to her then, his gaze dark and steady. "I'll ask once more-still thinking about that divorce?"

Carol didn't say anything. Instead, she walked straight over to the bed, pulled back the covers, and climbed into the only bed in the room.

Nope.

Ethan frowned. "Who said you could sleep there?"

Carol stared at him like he'd grown another head. "There's only one bed. What do you expect me to do, sleep on the floor? I'm still a respectable woman, you know."

Ethan didn't answer, but his expression said it all-he wasn't stopping her.

Carol looked like she was about to explode from frustration. "What if your mom pops in again for a surprise inspection? You think she made us stay over here for fun?

"You don't want her stressing over you again, do you?"

That finally shut Ethan up-he fell silent, clearly giving in.

Seeing that she got her way, Carol smugly crawled back into bed. But right after saying that, she couldn't help but feel something was off.

Damn, she sounded just like one of those shady bosses in those sketchy videos: "You wouldn't want your husband to find out, would you..."

A shiver ran down her spine. Mortified, she yanked the covers over her head and curled up like a burrito.

"Wait, hang on..." She suddenly remembered something and peeked her head out, just about to say something to Ethan.

At the same time, Ethan was leaning toward her side, probably trying to grab the water on her nightstand.

They ended up way too close-like, nose-to-nose, literally breathing each other's air, on the verge of kissing.

And of course, right then, the door creaked open. Grace poked her head in and caught them mid-almost-kiss. Her face instantly lit up and she yanked the door shut, her voice cheerful from the hallway.

"Don't mind me! Pretend I wasn't even here!"

Both Ethan and Carol: "..."

They scrambled to move apart, the tension thick.

Only one dim bedside lamp was on, throwing soft shadows. Somehow, Carol noticed his ears had turned faintly red. Maybe it was just the lighting, but...

Ethan was the first to speak, his voice a bit lower now, raspier. "You were saying something just now?"

Carol's mind was still blank. She blinked and answered automatically, "...totally forgot."

Eventually, they settled onto the same bed, though a whole body could've fit in the space between them-like they were on opposite ends of a galaxy or something.

In the dark, their silhouettes stayed stiff and still. Their breathing overlapped-hers calm on purpose, his a little uneven.

Moonlight slipped through the curtains and spilled onto the floor, casting pale patches over a night the two of them spent worlds apart in one bed.

The next morning, Carol woke up and found herself wrapped around Ethan like some overzealous octopus-one leg thrown over his waist, arms around his chest, face tucked into his neck.

She flushed in an instant and quickly pulled back, only to realize Ethan was already awake. He was frowning at her like he'd had enough, clearly stuck in that position for a while.

Mortified, Carol mumbled, "Uh... I sleep kind of wild. Why didn't you push me off or something?"

Ethan's voice, still rough from sleep, replied, "Tried. You wouldn't wake up."

Carol let out a sheepish laugh. "Heh... my bad..."

Then she bolted out of bed.