Chapter 3

After that night, Fiora stayed out of trouble for several days.

She stopped wearing those skimpy camisoles, quit making greasy love meals, and even spoke in a much softer tone.

The atmosphere at home seemed to go back to how it used to be, peaceful and calm.

But I started to notice that Darian's so-called straight-laced attitude seemed to be selective.

He'd still call out all the basic medical mistakes in the dramas I watched.

And he'd still nag me about buying unnecessary stuff whenever I came home from shopping.

But he'd remember when I randomly mentioned craving those pies from that spot on the west side, and on a weekend morning, he'd drive over an hour just to get them for me and leave them by my bedside.

Two days before my period, he'd quietly swap out all the cold water in the house for warm and leave pill killers on my desk, with a sticky note beside it.

His handwriting was bold and stylish, yet perfectly legible. [Instructions: Take orally. Dosage: Once a day. Side effects: Might make you think I'm annoying.]

Whenever I got home late after working overtime, dragging my tired self through the door, I'd always find a warm orange floor lamp glowing in the living room.

And there he'd be, sitting under the light, reading, always waiting up for me, no matter how late.

When he saw me come in, he'd put down his book, walk over to take my bag, then head to the kitchen to bring me a bowl of warm soup.

"Drink this before you sleep. It'll help restore your electrolytes and ease your fatigue," he'd say.

His words were always so clinical and precise.

But in those awkward, unmistakably Darian-style acts of care, I found a subtle sweetness that was just for me.

To everyone else, he was like a finely tuned machine, precise, rigid, and emotionally distant.

But only with me did that machine ever stumble, revealing a rare, clumsy tenderness that no one else ever got to see.

That night, I was in a terrible mood after a client kept nitpicking my design proposal.

When I got home, I flopped onto the couch and didn't say a word.

Fiora came out of the guest room, saw me like that, and immediately came over, concern written all over her face. "Lilith, what's wrong? Did someone bully you?"

As she spoke, she handed me a glass of water and started rubbing my back, showing more concern than anyone else.

Darian came out of his study, took in the scene, and adjusted his glasses.

He said to Fiora, "Would you mind stepping aside?"

Then he walked over to me, crouched down, and placed his hand on my forehead to check. "No fever."

He gently took my hand, pressing two fingers against my wrist. "Heart rate's a bit high, 98 beats per minute. Breathing's a little rapid."

Then he looked me in the eyes and gave his verdict. "Emotional stress response, probably caused by work stress."

I was left a bit dazed by how smoothly he pulled off his whole doctor act.

Fiora chimed in from the side, "Lilith's in a bad mood, Darian. Don't make such a fuss. Girls need a little comfort, and that's all."

Darian rose to his feet and looked down at her.

"Comfort?" There was a trace of sarcasm in his voice as he said, "Just saying nice things is nothing but a temporary placebo. That doesn't fix anything."

With that, he turned and walked back to his study.

Fiora pouted and whispered to me, "See? I told you he just doesn't get women."

I didn't say anything, but I couldn't help feeling a little let down inside.

In his world, were my feelings another set of numbers to be analyzed?

Just then, my phone started ringing. It was a number I didn't recognize.

I answered, and the person on the other end said he was the manager from the client company.

He said, "Hello, Ms. Ashford, this is Caius Thornwood from AlexStar Group. We went over your proposal today, and honestly, it's fantastic. There are no problems at all.

"Sorry for the hassle earlier. That was our team being difficult. I want to apologize on behalf of the company."

I froze. This was such a crazy twist.

After I hung up, I was still trying to wrap my head around it when Darian walked out of his study.

He handed me his phone. "Here's Caius's contact. I've already added him. Now you can reach out to him directly for anything project-related."

I stared at him, my mind completely blank. "Y-You know him?"

"No," Darian replied calmly. "But I know the director of their hospital. I called him to ask about Caius's recent check-up results. His report shows some issues.

"I told him that if he wants to book a specialist appointment with me, he'd better learn to respect my wife first."

My heart skipped a beat.

It turned out that he really knew how to make me feel better.

He did it in his own way, the most direct, effective, and assertive way possible, making sure nothing stood in my way.

I looked at the man standing before me. He still had that aloof, almost ascetic air, his eyes deep and tranquil behind his glasses.

But I could clearly see that beneath that serene surface, there was a stormy sea of feeling, all surging for me.

I couldn't help myself. I rushed over and wrapped my arms around him, holding him tight.

"Darian, you big dummy," I blurted out.

He stiffened for a second, then, with those surgeon's hands that were more used to scalpels than hugs, he clumsily wrapped his arms around me.

Darian murmured in my ear, his voice carrying a touch of resignation, "Guess my treatment plan actually worked."