Gian didn't answer. Only a long, heavy silence filled the room, swallowing whatever courage Aurelia had left. She shut her eyes, desperately hoping for an explanation-anything. But all she heard was the faint rustle of fabric as Gian shifted on the sofa.

Minutes passed before a voice finally broke through the stillness. Soft, low, almost too quiet to hear.

"There are too many old wounds. You don't need to know everything tonight."

And then, nothing. Just the ticking of the clock.

Rain poured hard as the black car stopped in front of the tall iron gates. Aurelia stared at the grand three-story European-style mansion beyond it-Gian's family home. The place that, for better or worse, was about to become hers too. Yet no warmth rose in her chest. Only a coldness that seeped deeper than the weather itself.

"This... is the main family house?" she asked softly, taking in the imposing facade that radiated power and isolation.

Gian simply nodded. No words.

The gates opened automatically. The car rolled down a stone path, the scent of rain thick in the air.

Someone hurried out with an umbrella, holding it open as Aurelia stepped out. She felt the chill crawl through the thin fabric of her dress. Her shoes landed on the wet gravel, and she drew in a slow breath. The house felt too quiet-unnervingly quiet.

Inside, the smell of aged wood and expensive room fragrances greeted her. A woman stood in the middle of the hallway-upright, composed, cold. Her eyes were sharp. Madam Lestari.

"Welcome," she said curtly. Her tone sliced like a thin blade.

The older woman's gaze traveled from Aurelia's head to her toes. Her lips twitched-not into a smile, but into something closer to judgment.

"I had hoped Gian would bring Devina home. But it seems fate had other plans."

The words were calm, almost casual-yet they hit Aurelia like a punch to the ribs.

She lowered her head. "I'll do my best, Ma'am."

"You'd better. Gian doesn't tolerate chaos."

Without another word, Madam Lestari turned toward the staircase. Aurelia followed quietly. Gian had vanished somewhere else. Only the rain outside accompanied her steps.

On the second floor, they stopped in front of a large bedroom.

"This is your room. Don't expect a maid to help you. I don't encourage that for... personal matters."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"And one more thing," she added sharply as she turned back, "don't think that being a wife makes you part of this family. I haven't forgotten that you weren't the first choice."

Aurelia nodded, swallowing the sting spreading in her chest. "I understand."

The door shut behind her, leaving Aurelia alone in a room far too large for the way she felt. High ceilings, luxurious furniture, a glittering crystal chandelier-none of it belonged to her. Everything felt like props on a stage.

She exhaled slowly, then began unpacking her suitcase. Folding clothes into the wardrobe. Straightening the bed. Putting toiletries in place. All done in silence-surrounded by a life she didn't recognize.

By late afternoon, she gathered enough courage to head to the kitchen. She wanted to do something-help, blend in, prove she wasn't entirely useless.

A maid looked startled when Aurelia picked up a knife.

"Ma'am, you don't have to do this. We always handle the cooking."

"It's fine. I want to contribute," Aurelia replied with a nervous smile.

The maid hesitated, but eventually stepped back. Aurelia grabbed ingredients-though her heart was racing. She had no idea what she was doing.

Fifteen minutes later, the kitchen looked like a battlefield. Oil sputtered from the pan, onions burned to a crisp, water boiled over the pot, and flour dusted the countertop like snow.

"Oh no... why is everything falling apart..." Aurelia whispered frantically.

The click of high heels echoed toward the doorway. Madam Lestari appeared, arms crossed, eyes sweeping over the disaster zone.

"I assumed you had at least some basic household skills. Apparently... not."

Aurelia winced, her face flushing.

"Devina always kept this kitchen immaculate. Even the maids learned from her. She knew how to chop, prepare, plate. Not... whatever this is."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am... I only wanted to help," Aurelia murmured.

"If you don't know how, don't pretend you do. This is the Alvaro family's main household, not a practice kitchen."

Aurelia bowed her head. She had no defense. But her eyes still held a faint spark-she refused to give up.

Then heavy footsteps approached from the back hallway.

Gian appeared, still in his work shirt, sleeves rolled up. His eyes swept the kitchen-burnt onions, rising steam, total chaos.

He looked at Aurelia briefly, then at his mother whose displeasure was practically radiating.

"What happened here?" he asked, his voice calm but edged.

Madam Lestari immediately seized the opening.

"Your wife tried to cook, and look at the result. The kitchen is a wreck. There could've been a fire if I hadn't arrived in time."

Aurelia closed her eyes for a moment. Whatever Gian said next would either crush her... or reveal something unexpected.

But to her surprise, Gian didn't answer right away.

He looked at his mother with a gaze impossible to decipher.

Then he shifted his eyes back to Aurelia-standing awkwardly amidst the chaos.

"I want to ask you something," Gian said quietly, though his voice carried an unmistakable firmness. "Who exactly were you trying to please?"

Aurelia froze. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Madam Lestari folded her arms even tighter across her chest. "Certainly not me, Gian," she snapped.

Silence settled over the room.

Before anyone could add another word, Gian stepped forward-slow, steady, without theatrics. His gaze cut through the tension, directed at only one person.

"I never asked you to cook," he said. "I didn't ask for anything."

Aurelia bit her lip, head dipping slightly.

But then, to her surprise, Gian picked up a cloth. He wiped the messy countertop once-calmly, without a complaint-before turning to his mother.

"She just arrived today. If a small mistake is enough to set you off like this... maybe this house is simply too harsh for anyone."

Madam Lestari stiffened. "You're defending her?"

Gian didn't answer.

He simply looked at his mother for a long, heavy moment. Then he set the cloth down and turned to leave.

His footsteps echoed across the marble floor-slow, deliberate. But right before he reached the doorway, he paused and glanced back at Aurelia.

"If you still want to try," he said softly, "start with something that won't burn the house down."

Then he walked away, leaving the air thick with a lingering, misty quiet.

Madam Lestari huffed. "See? He pities you."

Aurelia didn't respond. Embarrassment still burned on her cheeks, but somewhere beneath it, a small pocket of relief formed. Not because Gian defended her-but because he didn't condemn her either.

She looked at the mess in the kitchen. Her hands trembled slightly as she began to wipe the counter. But this time... she didn't feel entirely defeated.

That night, Aurelia returned to her room with her body aching and the faint smell of oil still clinging to her hair. She sat at the edge of the bed, staring at her own dim reflection in the window. This house was quiet. Too quiet. Yet somehow, Gian's earlier words kept echoing in her mind.

If you still want to try...

Just one sentence, but it felt like permission to breathe.

Aurelia opened her small notebook and wrote down one thing:

Learn to cook - start with scrambled eggs.

The next morning, Gian came downstairs earlier than usual. Already dressed for work-black suit, gray tie, expression unreadable-he slowed his steps as soon as he reached the dining room.

On the table lay a glass of milk. A plate of toast. And... scrambled eggs.

Not perfectly shaped. Slightly burnt at the edges. But undeniably made with effort.

Aurelia stood near the table, hands clasped behind her back, clearly nervous. She wore a simple blouse and slacks, her face bare of makeup.

"I... tried making a simple breakfast," she said quietly. "Nothing that could start a fire today."

Gian looked at her for a long moment. Then he sat down. Picked up a fork. Took a small bite of the eggs. Chewed slowly.

He didn't compliment her. He didn't complain either. But he finished everything. Even the toast that had gone slightly cold.

"Thank you," he said.

Aurelia's chest fluttered.

After Gian left, one of the maids-who had been peeking from behind a wall-gave her a small smile.

"That's the first time Mr. Gian has sat down for breakfast in a long while."

Aurelia blinked. "Really?"

The maid nodded. "He usually just grabs coffee and leaves. But today... he actually ate."

Aurelia looked at the now-empty chair at the table. Gian's expression rarely gave anything away, but this morning... something small, fragile, had shifted.

This house still felt like a labyrinth of cold hallways and untouchable secrets. But for a moment, one of its doors had cracked open.

Night fell by the time Aurelia closed her bedroom door. The day had stretched endlessly. She still knew little about Gian, this house, or her place within it. But today-for the first time-she felt her presence wasn't completely invisible.

She sat on the edge of the bed, eyes tracing the soft glow of the chandelier above. Then she opened the window. The night breeze slipped in, carrying the faint scent of the afternoon rain.

Her gaze drifted downward-to the dim backyard.

Gian stood there. Alone. Near a small gazebo lit by a weak lamp. His head was slightly tilted back, as if searching the sky for something he couldn't quite reach. His suit jacket was gone; he wore only a white dress shirt and dark pants. The soft light caught half his face-and for a heartbeat, Aurelia saw something she'd never seen before.

Not anger. Not authority.

But... emptiness.

And when Gian slowly turned his head toward the second-floor window-toward her-their eyes met. Not for long. Not enough to call it a stare. But enough to make Aurelia's heart seize.

Because in those eyes, she didn't just see coldness.

She saw a wound.

She didn't know what time it was when she drifted into sleep again. The world outside was still dark. But the vibration of a notification jolted her awake. The rain had stopped hours ago, leaving a thin layer of mist on the glass.

Aurelia rubbed her eyes and reached for her phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up, displaying a single email:

[Re-Registration Schedule for New Graduate Students – Faculty of Psychology, University-]

Her fingers froze. Her breath hitched.

She had forgotten something very important.

"Typical gold-digger!"

That was the first thing that flew out of Mrs. Lestari's mouth this morning. Her tone was sharp-cutting, like a whip cracking across bare skin. The usually quiet house was now heavy with tension.

Aurelia stayed silent. Her head bowed, her eyes fixed on the floor. She knew those words weren't just an angry outburst, but a judgment she had feared long before this moment.

"Graduate school? A master's degree? You've barely been in this house and you already want to continue your studies? What's next, huh? A car? An apartment? A vacation overseas?"

Mrs. Lestari's voice rose, and the maid-who had been carrying tea-quickly backed out of the dining room. Gian sat at the far end of the table, staring into his cup. He didn't say a single word.

"I'm not asking for anything except permission, Ma'am," Aurelia replied softly, barely audible. "I just want to chase my dream. I was accepted even before this marriage happened."

"Oh, of course! Exactly what I expected. You accepted this marriage to smooth out your little plans. You marry Gian, then ride on the Alvaro name!"

Aurelia bit her lip. Her eyes burned, but she refused to let tears fall.

"I never intended to take advantage of anyone," she whispered.

"Nonsense! You think I'm stupid? You planned all of this, didn't you? A girl from a messed-up family who suddenly gets lucky enough to enter this household. And now you want to go to school-using whose money? Your husband's? The Alvaro family's?!"

Mrs. Lestari shot a glance at her son.

"Gian, look! This is what your impulsive decision got us. I regret that you married her! I regret having her as my daughter-in-law!"

Gian didn't respond. But his shoulders tightened.

He remained silent, fingers wrapped around a small spoon he never used. His eyes stayed fixed on his now-cold drink.

Mrs. Lestari abruptly stood from her chair.

"That's it. My head is throbbing. I'm leaving. A social gathering is far better than listening to a manipulative woman like you whining about wanting an education."

Her footsteps echoed on the marble floor. Moments later, the front door slammed shut. Silence fell over the dining room, leaving only two people-husband and wife, who barely even knew each other.

Aurelia stayed by the table. Her eyes were red, but dry. She took a deep breath and slowly moved her chair closer toward Gian.

"I don't want to argue. But I won't give up on my dream just because someone thinks I'm greedy," she said.

Gian finally looked up. His gaze was flat, but not empty. Something flickered beneath the surface.

"I'm willing to work hard in this house. I can clean, tidy the rooms, mop the floors, do the laundry. I'm even learning how to cook," Aurelia continued. "I don't want to live off anyone's pity. I just want... a chance. Please."

Still no response. Gian only stared at her, unreadable.

Aurelia exhaled shakily.

"I'll take care of this entire house without the maids. I'll wake up early, sweep the yard, wash the clothes-whatever it takes, as long as I can continue my studies."

Gian straightened in his seat and stood. But he didn't say a word. He simply walked toward his study.

Aurelia followed, stopping only when the cold, distant man shut the door firmly in her face.

By late afternoon, she was standing at the doorway of his study-lined with bookshelves and warm lighting-watching her husband's broad back. Solid. Unreadable. Like a wall she still couldn't break. She smiled faintly when she noticed he hadn't locked the room this time.

"Gian... I mean it. I'll do anything."

He halted near his desk, not turning around. His shoulders stiffened, matching the tension in the hand gripping a folded letter-contents unknown.

"Anything," Aurelia repeated. "Give me a condition. Any condition."

When he finally turned, Gian no longer looked expressionless.

Something stormed behind his eyes. Not anger, not disappointment-something more tangled, laced with shock he didn't voice. His jaw clenched so tightly the muscle stood out. A vein in his neck pulsed, as if he were holding back something on the verge of breaking loose.

His face flushed-not in embarrassment, but like someone battling his own rising turmoil.

Aurelia froze. The air between them grew heavy, thick with an invisible, suffocating tension. The ticking clock on the wall suddenly sounded unbearably loud.

Then, with slow but deliberate steps, Gian moved closer. His stare cut through her, as if trying to look past her words and into the truth hidden beneath them.

They were only inches apart now. And from that tightly clenched jaw, he finally spoke-quiet, flat, but hitting straight to her core.

"You're sure you'll do anything?"

Aurelia nodded quickly, her lashes trembling. That small gesture alone made Gian smile-one with meaning she couldn't yet decipher.