Chapter 2

2

The morning after our wedding, she was getting dressed when I woke up.

The digital transfers were sent back, and the cash was placed neatly on my pillow.

"Why did you..."

"If you give me everything, what will you live on? A man needs money to network, grab drinks, buy decent suits..."

I shook my head. "I don't smoke or drink. Plus, I work evening shifts at the grocery market. The manager is great and gives me unsold produce for free."

"As long as we keep our meals simple, it hardly costs anything."

I lowered my head to fold the blanket, seemingly trying to hide my emotions, but deliberately letting her see my pressed lips and my faded, ill-fitting t-shirt.

"Besides... my brother gave me two bags of his hand-me-downs a few days ago. That's enough clothes for a long time."

Her eyes softened with a flicker of heartache.

After a long silence, she got up to wash her face.

"My upbringing taught me never to rely on others."

"If worse comes to worst, I'll borrow from friends."

From that day on, our life settled into a quiet, ordinary rhythm.

We went about our days separately. Every evening, after finishing my two part-time jobs, I came home to cook dinner.

We ate together, and then one slept on the bed while the other slept on the floor.

At first, we only exchanged polite pleasantries. Gradually, we started talking about our days and helping each other with small chores like friends.

It took me one week to go from complete strangers to close roommates.

One week later, at ten at night, Rowan froze the moment she walked through the door.

A row of coat hooks now hung on the wall. Her dress was hung neatly beside my jacket.

The worn-out gray bedding was replaced with warm mustard-yellow sheets, and a steaming plate of stir-fry sat on the counter.

The dim lightbulb was swapped for a new one, casting a warm, cozy glow over the tiny basement apartment.

And in the middle of this revamped home, I was standing on a stool, hanging new curtains.

Hearing the door, I turned around and gave her a gentle smile.

"You're back. Eat while it's hot―the market manager gave me the meat and veggies for free."

"The curtains and sheets didn't cost much either. Just thrift store finds."

Rowan's eyes turned slightly red as she took in every single item in the room.

The warm mustard-yellow tones filled her vision, and the overwhelming comfort made her chest heave.

Sensing the perfect timing, I added softly:

"I'm sorry I picked mustard-yellow without asking. I just guessed you might like it."

"I changed your pillowcases too. Do you like them?"

She looked down, walking toward the bed with her gaze fixed on the pillowcases.

Suddenly, she tripped over something and lost her balance, falling backward.

I rushed over, catching her firmly in my arms before she hit the floor.

She instinctively grabbed my collar. Using her momentum, I pulled her even closer.

Gratitude and lingering shock filled her eyes:

"Thank you... Silas."

I let out a breath, but my gaze drifted down the loose neckline of her shirt.

My throat tightened.

"Rowan."

It was the first time I called her name with a low, husky voice.

"Can I?"

She bit her lower lip, her cheeks flushing bright crimson, and buried her face into my neck.

"Mm."

I guessed right. She loved being saved―especially the classic damsel-in-distress moment.

That night, Rowan and I went from legal spouses to husband and wife in every sense of the word.

I didn't change my hair, and in the dark, the name she cried out was mine.

Late that night, I woke up in the quiet room.

Mason had sent a dozen messages.

"Why aren't you answering? Silas, don't tell me you actually slept with that trash?"

"Get real. Mom and Dad will never let you stay married to her. If you know what's good for you, get a divorce and come home. Any of the five women I found is ten times better than Rowan!"

His latest text reeked of desperation:

"Don't be an ungrateful bastard. If you don't come home, don't expect me to save you when Mom and Dad show up at your door!"

Rowan's steady breathing brushed against my chest. The single bed was too small for two, forcing us to press tightly together.

She couldn't truly love me in just one week.

A little outside pressure was exactly what I needed.

I texted back: "I'm not coming back. I love her. Even if Mom and Dad object, I'm spending the rest of my life with her."