Chapter 2

Zelda woke with a start. The room around her felt too empty. She sat on the edge of the bed for a second, listening to the noise at the door.

After a moment, she got up and smoothed out her pajamas. When she opened the door, the smell of alcohol hit her right away.

Osmond leaned against the doorframe, looking unsteady. "Zelda, my head hurts. Give me a massage," he said. It was an order he expected her to follow.

Zelda looked at him quietly. This time, she did not move. She did not do what he asked. Instead, she picked up her pillow and blanket and headed for the door again. She was going to sleep in the guest room.

As she passed him, Osmond suddenly reached out and grabbed her arm. His grip was firm. His eyes were clear. He did not look drunk at all.

"Are you angry?" he asked, a faint smirk pulling at his lips. "Are you mad because I spent the day with her and didn't come see you?"

Zelda knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to push her, waiting for her to snap. But she felt nothing—no anger or hurt, just tiredness.

She pulled her arm free and said quietly, "Go to sleep. It's late."

*****

The next morning, Zelda woke to the sound of movement in the kitchen.

She went downstairs and saw Osmond standing there in an apron, moving around the counter. He looked awkward, like he did not quite know what he was doing. He set a plate on the table, a little too carefully.

When he noticed her, his face lit up. "Honey, you're up. Sit down. The food's almost ready."

If last night had never happened, they would have looked like any normal couple sharing a quiet morning.

Zelda glanced at the table. The food did not look good. It was uneven, a little burnt in places. Looking at it, she felt nothing at all.

She still remembered the first time she found out he had cheated. Back then, it had shattered her. She had cried, yelled, and made a scene big enough for everyone to notice.

Osmond had not argued. He had followed her home in silence. The next morning, even though he had no idea how to cook, he made her a full breakfast as an apology.

That day, she had cried again, but for a different reason. She had been moved by that terrible, burnt food.

After that, he cheated again and again. Over time, his excuses became more polished, his lies more careful. The only thing that never changed was how bad his cooking was.

"Honey, don't be mad. Try what I made." Osmond picked up some of the unrecognizable food and placed it on her plate. "Have a bite."

He looked at her with real expectation, like he believed this would fix everything. Zelda had to admit that he was very good at acting like a caring husband.

But this time, she gently pushed the plate away. "You eat it. I'm not hungry."

Osmond froze. He stared at her, trying to read her face. When he realized she meant it, the smile slowly faded.

He stood up straight, and his voice cooled. "If you're not eating, then there's no point in me eating alone."

He paused, then added, "Are we going to see Grandpa Mick later?"

"Yes. He called yesterday. He said he wanted to see us," Zelda replied, lowering her eyes. This version of him, distant and sharp, was the real Osmond.

"Fine. Get ready. We're leaving now." He yanked off the pink floral apron and tossed it straight into the trash. Zelda could tell he was angry, even if he did not say it out loud.

On the drive to the hospital, neither of them spoke. Osmond kept one hand on the wheel, the other tapping lightly against it. After a while, he let out a short laugh.

"Yesterday, I thought you'd show up and shove both of us into the water," he said. "I even hired extra security. But you never came."

Zelda kept her eyes on the road ahead, watching the buildings slide past. She did not turn to look at him.

"Isn't this better?" she asked, her voice calm. "Isn't this the kind of mature behavior you always wanted from me?"

Osmond had no answer right away. The words caught him off guard.

He turned his head and looked at her more carefully. When he saw that she was serious, the last trace of amusement left his face.

"It's good that you think that way," he said. "As long as you stay quiet and don't cause trouble, you'll always be Mrs. Vega. No one can take that from you."

It sounded like reassurance, but it did not feel like one. It felt like something small and sharp pressing into her chest. It did not hurt enough to make her react, but it stayed there, constant and hard to ignore.

"Do you really think I took care of you back then just for your status?" Zelda asked before she could stop herself.

The moment the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back.

Osmond looked at her, his gaze turning cold and mocking. "Why else, Zelda? Don't tell me you did it because you fell in love with me. We're adults. There's nothing wrong with admitting what you wanted."

"You're right," Zelda said softly. "If your family hadn't offered that much money, I wouldn't have come to take care of you."

Her feelings for him had always been something she carried alone. It had been quiet, complicated, and never returned. Since he had never known from the start, there was no reason for him to know now.

Osmond did not say anything right away. For some reason, her answer left a strange, tight feeling in his chest.

The car fell into silence again. Without warning, he pressed down hard on the gas.

They arrived at the hospital soon after.

In the hallway, Osmond slowed down and held out his arm.

Zelda took a small breath, then placed a soft smile on her face. She stepped closer and slipped her hand through his arm. Together, they looked like a devoted couple.

"Grandpa Mick, we're here!" They pushed open the door.

The old man sitting up in bed brightened the moment he saw them. "Well, look who's here! Have you two eaten yet?"

"Osmond, are you not taking care of her?" Mick frowned and pushed Osmond aside when he tried to move closer.

He reached out and took Zelda's arm instead. "You look thinner. And why are you so pale? Is Winona giving you a hard time again?"

Hearing those words, Zelda felt her throat tighten. She almost lost control of her tears. In the entire Vega family, Mick was the only one who had ever truly cared about her.

Just then, noise came from the hallway. Zelda glanced toward the door and saw several people rushing past, pushing a pale woman on a stretcher.

As they passed, a nurse muttered under her breath, "I heard she's some actress who twisted her ankle on set. They're making such a big deal out of it. I thought it was something serious."

Zelda's eyes shifted to Osmond. If she remembered correctly, that woman was the one he had spent all that money on the night before.

Sure enough, a second later, Osmond stood up and found an excuse to slip out of the room.

As soon as he stepped out, Zelda's phone buzzed. A message from him popped up. [I need to handle something. Make up an excuse for Grandpa Mick.]

Zelda looked at the screen for a second, then deleted the message without replying.

She was about to say something when she looked up and met Mick's eyes.

He was watching her quietly, his expression gentle but heavy with understanding. "Zelda, have you been unhappy lately?"