It was the weekend, so no alarms, no meetings.

Carol slept in without a care, then dragged herself to the couch with her sketchpad, turned on the TV just for some background noise, and started drawing.

As she flipped through the channels absentmindedly, her finger hovered as a familiar face popped up-it was a business talk show featuring Ethan.

She paused mid-motion.

He was dressed in a tailored dark suit. Even though his skin still looked a bit pale, the way he sat, back straight and eyes sharp, gave off a strong, unshakable presence. Every answer he gave to the host was delivered calmly and clearly-composed, confident, in control.

Then the host switched gears and got bold: "Mr. Mitchell, there's been a lot of buzz lately about your health. Some investors are worried-will that impact your control over Mitchell Group and its future direction?"

Even Carol thought that was out of line. She lifted her coffee but forgot to drink, eyes fixed on the screen, waiting for his response.

Ethan didn't even blink. His tone stayed cool and even as he replied, "I'm fully aware of my health, and it doesn't affect my judgment. More importantly, Mitchell Group has a sound decision-making system. It doesn't rely on one person."

He was calm and matter-of-fact, effectively turning a crisis into nothing at all.

Carol just stared blankly at the screen, watching that powerful man speak like he had the whole world under control.

She didn't know why, but her chest felt like it trembled a little.

Monday morning's meeting came fast.

The design department head added a last-minute update: "...Apparently two major partners just pulled out of several of Ryan's real estate projects under the Morgan Group. And some of the luxury brand collabs are on hold too. Looks like our payments for the model home work might get delayed, so everyone, double-check your parts and stay on top of it."

He lowered his voice, sounding half serious, half gossipy: "Word is, they've pissed off someone big..."

Carol suddenly pictured Ethan's expressionless but chilling face from the other day.

"People like him need to learn that putting hands on you comes with a price they can't afford."

That line echoed in her head out of nowhere.

Could it really be him?

In the break room, the coffee chat was already in full swing.

Someone brought up Ryan's scandalous video. Some coworkers praised whoever exposed it as a sort of vigilante hero, others thought it crossed a line and messed with people's privacy.

One girl leaned in, lowering her voice for effect. "A friend of mine in IT said some hacker group is digging into the uploader. Heard they're close to figuring it out..."

Someone blinked. "Why go after the uploader?"

"Probably bored and nosy. Said they want the uploader to have a taste of their own medicine."

Carol didn't bother to stick around. She grabbed her coffee and walked straight out.

But the moment she sat back at her desk, her phone rang.

It was Donald Bennett.

As soon as the call connected, Donald Bennett's voice came rushing in with his usual fake concern and urgency. "Carol, the Morgans reached out. They want you to take down that original video ASAP. No need to show your face, just post a statement saying the video was AI-generated and Ryan's being framed..."

Carol cut him off. "Not happening."

His tone turned sharp immediately. "Carol! Can't you be a bit more sensible? The Bennetts and Morgans do business together! Have you thought about what this means for the family?"

She let out a cold laugh, each word hitting like a slap. "The family? Donald Bennett, where was that sense of family when you cheated on Mom and brought that mistress home while she was still sick?"

Donald snapped, fury breaking through. "I'm your father!"

"I don't have a father. Mine died a long time ago."

Carol inhaled sharply, choking back the lump in her throat. "Take care of yourself."

And with that, she hung up, casually dragging his number into her blocklist.

That afternoon, a message from Sophia popped up with a link.

"Girl! Look at this! Someone seems to have dug up something on the video poster! The comments are full of trolls foaming at the mouth, yelling about doxing them and giving 'em a taste of their own medicine!"

Then a voice message followed, her voice full of worry. "Carol, I know you didn't do anything wrong. But if those lunatics start targeting you, it's still a huge headache!

"Plus, if the Mitchell family gets caught up in this mess... maybe it's time to just divorce him? Save yourself."

Carol frowned and opened the link, staring at the hostile comments on the screen. A twinge of unease crept into her chest.

It's not like she was scared-she had nothing to lose.

But what if Sophia was right? What if things escalated and the Mitchells got dragged in?

Ethan hated drama. Especially anything personal from her side.

She clenched her phone a little tighter, fingertips cold.

He'd warned her before: "Don't bring trouble to the Mitchells."

If her info really got leaked, staining the Mitchells' name... Would he just drop her like that? No hesitation?

Weirdly, deep down, she did feel... a tiny flicker of regret?

They hadn't even gotten out of the so-called "honeymoon phase" yet.

Meanwhile, over in the Mitchell Group CEO's office-

Jack finished delivering the latest update on the Morgans' project crashing, then added, "Boss, one more thing. The online buzz around that video? Someone's steering attention toward the original poster. Feels like the Morgans are behind it. Mrs. Mitchell... might be at risk of getting doxed."

Ethan had been going through documents the whole time, but hearing "Mrs. Mitchell," his pen paused mid-air.

Jack caught the slight change in his boss's expression and felt a chill run down his spine. That look usually meant someone was seriously screwed.

But then, Ethan's voice came calm and unreadable as always: "Shut it down."

Jack looked up, visibly startled, but the moment his eyes met Ethan's calm and unreadable gaze, he quickly straightened up and nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll handle it right away."

As he stepped out of the office, Jack couldn't help but think: Sure, the boss keeps saying he won't clean up after his wife, but isn't that exactly what he's been doing all along - just less obvious about it?

At this rate, Ms. Bennett might as well officially become Mrs. Mitchell for real.

*

When Carol got off work and clicked on that link again, the page had completely vanished. Not only was the post gone, but the topic had also been majorly suppressed. It felt like someone wiped the entire thing off the internet - no trace left at all.

She stared blankly at her screen. Honestly, who else besides Ethan could pull off something like this?

That uneasiness in her chest was quietly replaced by something more complicated.

Just then, her phone rang - it was Jack.

"Mrs. Mitchell, the boss instructed me to drive you to and from work for the time being," he informed her.

Carol immediately connected the dots. "So you're the one who handled the post, right? Thanks..."

Jack glanced into the rearview mirror at the man in the backseat, who had his eyes closed like he was resting. "Ma'am, Mr. Mitchell is also in the car. I'm afraid I'm not the one to pass on your thanks."

As soon as he said that, Ethan opened his eyes and shot him a glare.

"Didn't know you had this much to say lately."

Jack just smiled to himself. After working with Ethan for so long, he'd never once seen the man so openly concerned about someone.

As Carol exited the building, her eyes instantly landed on the Bentley parked by the curb. She climbed in and leaned closer to the chilly man beside her, arching a playful brow. "Thanks, hubby~"

Up front, Jack had kind of developed a tolerance for Carol's playful antics by now. He just kept his eyes on the road, pretending not to hear.

Ethan didn't even blink. "Not necessary."

But Carol didn't get discouraged. She just shot him a mischievous wink. "But you didn't object to the 'hubby' though~"

Ethan: "..."

Back home, Ethan barely said a word before heading straight to the living room and switching on his laptop.

Carol didn't bother him, just slipped into the kitchen.

As night fell, the gentle gurgle of the stew pot and the warm scent of food slowly filled the quiet house, softening the cold, sterile vibe of the space.

Ethan finally shut his laptop with a sigh and leaned back a bit, exhausted. But his eyes drifted - almost involuntarily - toward the kitchen where warm light poured out.

This kind of homey vibe... it'd been a long time since he felt it.

He closed his eyes, the scent lingering at the tip of his nose, and somewhere deep in his chest, that usually cold and guarded spot... seemed to melt just a bit.

The next morning, Carol had just finished her breakfast when her phone buzzed-it was Grace.

"Carol, Ethan's got a follow-up at the sanatorium today. Go with him, will you?"

Grace's tone was gentle but left no room for arguing. "You're his wife. Spend more time with him. It'll be good if you can remember what the doctor says."

Carol glanced at Ethan across the table. He was sipping his coffee, expression unchanged, like he'd known about this all along.

She could only nod. "Alright, Grace. Got it."

After ending the call, Carol tidied up the dishes and looked at Ethan. "When are we heading out?"

"Once Jack gets here," Ethan said, setting his mug down and grabbing his coat. "You don't have to force yourself just to please my mom. If you don't want to go, then don't."

Carol paused, then smiled lightly. "I've already agreed. Might as well go."

She really did want to know-just how bad was his condition, exactly? Sophia had said he had about two months left. Would the doctor say the same?

About thirty minutes later, Jack drove up.

Carol and Ethan sat in the backseat. The car was silent except for the soft piano music playing.

Ethan leaned back in the seat, eyes closed. His face looked paler than usual.

Carol sneaked a look at him. His lashes were long, casting faint shadows on his cheekbones. There was a surprising softness to him in that moment.

She remembered seeing him for the first time at the sanatorium-reclining on a lounge chair, fragile like something impossibly delicate. Her chest tightened.

After a forty-minute drive, they arrived at the facility.

The place was quiet and peaceful, full of trees and greenery. The faint scent of disinfectant lingered in the air, but it wasn't overpowering.

Just as they reached the room, a young man in a white coat and gold-rimmed glasses walked up to them.

He looked about Ethan's age, with a calm and friendly demeanor. The moment he saw Carol, he visibly hesitated.

"Ethan, who's this?" he asked, clearly surprised.

"Simon," Ethan replied. Then he turned to Carol. "Simon Blake, Carol."

He didn't mention Carol's identity, but Simon was quick to pick it up. Smiling, he offered his hand. "Mrs. Mitchell, nice to meet you. I'm Simon-Ethan's friend and attending physician."

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Blake," Carol said, shaking his hand. His palm was warm, steady-very doctor-like.

Inside the room, Simon began his exams.

He checked Ethan's temperature and blood pressure first, then moved on to drawing blood.

When the nurse inserted the needle, Ethan's arm tightened. His knuckles went pale, but he didn't say a word, just stared out the window with a calm, unreadable gaze.

Carol stood next to him, watching the needle slide into his pale skin. Unconsciously, her hands clenched.

It wasn't until the nurse pulled the needle out and pressed a cotton swab over it that she finally let out a breath.

"Blood pressure's a bit low, temperature's fine," Simon noted, glancing up at Ethan. "We'll do a CT scan later to check the organs. Have you been taking your meds on time? Any discomfort lately?"

"Yeah, I've been taking them," Ethan replied in his usual even tone. "No issues."

Simon obviously didn't buy it, but he didn't press further. He just nodded and said, "Let's get a CT scan done first."

While Ethan was getting scanned, Carol waited outside.

A little while later, Simon came out and said, "Mrs. Mitchell, can we talk for a bit?"

Carol nodded and followed him to the seating area in the hallway.

"You've probably got a general idea of his condition," Simon got straight to the point, his tone turning serious. "It's pretty complicated. His immune system's a mess, there are sudden acute episodes, and a bunch of other complications."

Even though she'd mentally prepared herself, hearing it straight from a doctor still made Carol's heart sink.

"He's in a lot of pain, but he hides it well." Simon stared into the distance, sighing just softly enough that it might be missed. "He walls himself off-from everyone. Family, friends... Even when I suggested therapy, he shut it down."

He turned to face her, his eyes full of sincerity. "Honestly, I was surprised when I heard he got married. And seeing you here with him today? Even more surprising. Carol, I don't know what kind of agreement or relationship you two have exactly... but legally, you're the closest person to him right now."

He paused briefly, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "His physical condition is heavily influenced by his mental state. That whole two-month estimate? That was based on the worst-case scenario when he last had a near-death episode. But if he could-if he wanted to-fight harder to live, if he had a shift in mindset... things might take a different turn."

"You being here might be a game-changer," Simon's eyes carried a faint glow of hope. "Try to... just get a little closer to him? Even if it's just as a roommate, or a friend. Sometimes, that everyday warmth and comfort can be more powerful than any fancy meds."

Simon's words hit Carol like a stone thrown into a still lake.

Suddenly, "two months" didn't feel like a vague deadline. It had weight-a living, breathing man's suffering, struggle, and the pain hidden under that cold exterior.

She stared at the lush green trees beyond the terrace. Sunlight was pouring down, but somehow it didn't feel warm at all.

Her heart was in a mess.

Late at night, everything was quiet-until the soft sound of rain started tapping at the window.

But then, over the drizzle, she was jolted awake by a strange thud followed by sharp, struggling gasps.

It came from upstairs.

Her whole body went tense. Her heart skipped-Ethan!

She jumped out of bed, didn't even bother with shoes, and ran straight upstairs barefoot. The door to the master bedroom wasn't locked; she shoved it open.

Only a dim bedside lamp was on.

Ethan was curled up in bed, visibly shaking from head to toe. His face was frighteningly flushed, hair soaked with sweat and sticking to his forehead.

He was breathing so hard-it was like every breath rattled in his chest, mouth tinged with blue, and he was coughing up blood.

"Ethan!" Carol rushed to his bedside, reached out and touched his forehead-burning hot. A raging fever.

She instantly remembered what Dr. Simon had said about emergencies-patients with weakened immunity could spiral fast, even from something as simple as a high fever.

Stay calm. Gotta stay calm.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to pull it together. Without wasting a second, she grabbed the room's landline and called Jack. Her words were quick and to the point-just enough so he knew to go find Simon ASAP.

Then she dashed into the bathroom, soaked a towel in cold water, wrung it until it was just damp, and hurried back. Her movements were careful but fast as she pressed the cool cloth to Ethan's burning forehead. With another towel, she gently dabbed at his neck, those heat-rich spots, trying to bring the fever down however she could.

"Ethan, can you hear me?" she asked softly while she worked, speaking close to his ear. Her voice stayed as steady as possible, like she could call him back with just her words. "Hang in there, okay? Dr. Blake will be here any second. You're gonna be fine, you hear me?"

But the man on the bed looked trapped somewhere between unconsciousness and pain, unresponsive to her voice. He only let out low, pained groans, his body shivering one moment and tensed up the next, burning up and clearly suffering.

Carol's chest tightened painfully.

Right now, Ethan was miles away from the cold, sharp version of himself. He looked fragile-like a glass doll about to shatter.

That sharp contrast between his usual strength and this sudden vulnerability-it hit her hard, left her breathless.

She didn't stop. Kept swapping out towels. Kept talking to him. Whether he could hear her or not, she just kept going.

"Ethan! Can you hear me?!"

She bent over again, reaching to switch out the towel on his forehead, when suddenly-a burning hot hand clamped down on her wrist.

It was strong. Startlingly strong. It actually hurt.

She froze, staring down at him.

His eyes were still shut, his awareness way out of reach, but his grip was tight like he'd latched onto the only thing keeping him steady in all the chaos inside his body.

Cracked lips barely moved, mumbling faint sounds that barely counted as words.

Holding her breath, Carol leaned in to listen.

It sounded like a name.

Hard to tell. But one thing was clear-it wasn't her name.

That small truth pricked at her heart like a tiny needle-just painful enough to notice. But she pushed those thoughts away. Now wasn't the time.

She didn't pull her hand away. Instead, used her free hand to keep caring for him as gently and steadily as before.

And this time, her voice softened almost instinctively, way more gentle than she meant. "It's okay... just hold on to me. I'm right here."

In this chaotic, fever-heavy night... in this dim room thick with sickness... she let him cling to her hand-let him hold on like she was his only tether in the world.

Ethan's eyes stayed closed, long lashes twitching slightly with the pain. It looked like he didn't even have the strength to open them-but in the moment her warm towel brushed against his cheek, Carol felt it-just barely, but real-his body relaxing the tiniest bit.

Time dragged.

The sound of rain and thunder from outside blended with his rough, angsty breathing.

Then finally... the sound of a car pulling up grew louder.

Jack and Simon arrived at the same time.

Ethan finally passed out, and that burning-hot hand of his slipped from her grasp, limp and heavy.

Carol lowered her gaze to the ring of red marks on her wrist, then looked back at the man, unconscious yet still frowning in pain. For a long moment, she just stood there, frozen.

It felt like the air hadn't fully cooled yet-it still carried a trace of his feverish heat and that muddled mumble he'd whispered before passing out.

In that moment, she saw something underneath Ethan's usual tough shell-something raw and fragile. A need. A deep, helpless sort of dependence. And she wasn't even sure if that dependence was meant for her.

Simon rushed upstairs, and with Jack's help, moved Ethan to another room packed with medical equipment. They got to work immediately.

Carol was stuck outside. She stood with her toes brushing the cold tile floor, ear pressed to the door. Even the soft beeping from inside felt louder to her.

The image of Ethan coughing up blood, dark red smearing the corner of his mouth, played on repeat in her head, stabbing at her heart like a needle, leaving her fingers icy cold.

For the first time, she really grasped how fragile life was-even for someone like Ethan, who always acted like he didn't give a damn. He talked about life and death with such ease, like none of it mattered. But in reality, his life could be snuffed out like a candle in the wind.

Finally, the door opened.

Simon pulled off his mask, looking serious. "It's acute pulmonary infection. He was coughing up blood, but we've stabilized him for now. That said, someone has to stay with him tonight-monitor his breathing and temperature closely. We can't afford any more mistakes."

Jack stepped forward right away. "Ma'am, why don't you get some rest? I'll stay-"

"No need," Carol cut in, firm and steady. "It's easier if I stay. You wait downstairs-if we need to rush to the hospital again, I'll need you to drive."

She shook her wrist and tried to throw in a little humor. "Besides, I'm his legal wife. If I don't step up now, his mom's gonna think I'm slacking."

Jack paused, saw she wasn't even a little hesitant, and just nodded. "Alright then. I'll be downstairs if you need me."

After sending Simon and Jack off, Carol gently pushed open the door to the room.

Ethan was back in bed. He looked a bit better than earlier, but still pale as a sheet. His dark lashes rested quietly against his cheeks, softening the sharp lines that were usually so cold and unyielding.

Carol pulled up a chair and sat down by his bed. Her eyes drifted to the hand outside the blanket-strong and well-defined, but with fingertips icy to the touch.

Before she knew what she was doing, she reached out and gently held it, trying to pass her warmth to him.

The instant her skin touched his, his hand twitched slightly, then turned over to grasp hers in return.

It wasn't a tight grip-more like he was holding on so gently it almost didn't register-like he was clinging to something precious in his sleep, something he didn't want to let slip away.

Carol froze, heart pounding. But she didn't pull away. She let him hold on.

His cold fingers and the heat from her palm mingled together, slowly melting into a quiet, fragile warmth that settled over the room.

That night felt endless.

As dawn crept in through the windows, Carol finally dozed off, her head resting on the edge of the bed. A faint tickle on the back of her hand woke her up.

Her eyes blinked open. Ethan was awake.

He was trying to sit up, and her hand...was still in his.

When he realized it too, his movement stalled. He looked down at their joined hands, his eyes flickering with something unreadable-confusion, surprise, maybe something else. Then, like he'd been burned, he quickly let go.