The next morning🌸🌞
Aria woke up feeling unusually relaxed.
For a moment, she forgot where she was.
Then the soft sheets, the unfamiliar ceiling, and the quiet luxury of the room reminded her.
She sat up and sighed.
“This is really happening…” she murmured.
She went into the bathroom and took a long, slow bath, letting the warm water calm her nerves. When she finally stepped out, wrapped in a towel, she walked toward the closet.
The moment she opened it—
Her eyes widened.
Clothes.
So many clothes.
Neatly arranged, colour-coordinated, all looking ridiculously expensive. Dresses, tops, lounge sets, heels, flats—things she had only seen on mannequins or rich girls in magazines.
She smiled to herself.
“Is he serious…?” she whispered.
She remembered what James had told her yesterday—she wasn’t going to work today, a rare day off that felt like a gift and a mystery.
Her eyes moved to the home clothes section.
She frowned.
Most of them were… short.
Too short.
She picked one up, examined it, then shook her head.
“Does this man even know what ‘comfortable’ means?” she muttered.
After a few minutes of debating with herself, she finally chose something modest compared to the rest—a soft fitted top and knee-length shorts. Still nice. Still elegant. Just not scandalous.
She dressed carefully, feeling a quiet hope that this new start might bring clarity and peace, encouraging the audience to root for her.
Downstairs, the dining area was quiet.
Mr Carter was already there.
Seated at the table.
Calm.
Composed.
Reading something on his tablet while having breakfast.
The man looked… unreal.
Perfect posture.
Sharp features.
Cold aura.
She paused for a second, then walked closer.
“Good morning, boss,” she greeted politely.
He didn’t look up immediately.
“Morning,” he replied after a brief pause, his voice flat.
She stood there awkwardly, not sure whether to sit or leave.
His gaze lingered just a moment longer than necessary, hinting at unspoken tension that made the audience curious about their relationship.
His gaze lingered for half a second longer than necessary.
“You’re up early,” he said.
“I’m used to waking up early,” she replied.
“Sit,” he said.
She sat across from him, keeping her back straight.
A maid quietly approached and served her breakfast. Aria looked at the plate—perfectly arranged, like something from a five-star hotel.
She hesitated.
“You don’t have to be scared,” he said suddenly.
She looked up.
“I’m not scared,” she replied quickly.
His eyebrow lifted slightly.
“Then why are you sitting like you’re in an interview?”
She relaxed a little, embarrassed.
“Habit,” she said.
He took a sip of his coffee.
“You’re not going to work today,” he said.
“I have things to handle. You stay here.”
“And do what exactly?” she asked before she could stop herself.
He looked at her again.
“Rest,” he said.
“And get used to this place.”
She frowned.
“I don’t like doing nothing.”
“That’s not my problem.”
She pressed her lips together.
Silence followed.
She picked up her fork and started eating slowly.
After a while, she spoke again.
“So… how long is this arrangement really going to last?”
“Three months,” he replied without hesitation.
“And after that?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On you.”
Her heart skipped.
She looked at him, trying to read his expression, but his face remained an unreadable mask, calm and distant as ever.
“This house has rules,” he added.
“You’ll learn them.”
She met his gaze, brave on the outside, nervous on the inside.
“And you’ll learn mine too,” she said quietly.
For the first time—
The corner of his lips twitched.
Just slightly.
And Aria knew—
Living under the same roof as Ryan Carter was not going to be easy at all.
She began eating properly this time.
“Mmm…” she hummed without thinking. “This food is so good.”
The moment the sound left her mouth, she froze.
Slowly, she lifted her eyes.
Ryan was looking at her.
Directly.
Her heart skipped.
Did I mess up already?
Ryan had always hated noise while eating. Talking. Commenting. Any unnecessary sound at the table irritated him. Silence was his comfort. Control was his order.
Yet for some strange reason—
That small, satisfied sound didn’t annoy him.
It did the opposite.
He found it… calming.
Cute.
The realisation irritated him more than the sound itself, revealing a deeper internal struggle he couldn't ignore.
He looked away immediately, tightening his jaw.
"It's nothing," he told himself coldly. "Focus."
Aria, unaware of the war happening in his head, continued eating. She didn't rush. She didn't pretend. She ate like someone who genuinely appreciated food, as if she hadn't always had this kind of luxury, revealing her quiet vulnerability to the audience.
"This chef deserves a raise," she added casually, reaching for her juice.
Ryan stopped chewing.
He put his fork down slowly.
"You don't need to comment on everything," he said flatly, his tone calm but distant, emphasising his attempt to maintain control amid internal tension.
She paused, then looked at him.
"I just say what I feel," she said honestly, not offended, showing her straightforward nature.
"That will get you in trouble one day."
She shrugged lightly. "I'm already in trouble."
That made him glance at her again.
She wasn't wrong.
Silence returned, but this time it wasn't heavy. It felt… different.
After a moment, he stood up.
"I have meetings today," he said. "You stay here."
She nodded. "I know."
"You're free to move around the house. Don't leave without informing security."
She raised an eyebrow. "Am I a prisoner now?"
"No," he replied calmly. "You're my responsibility."
That didn't sound any better.
He picked up his jacket and turned to leave, then stopped.
"And Aria."
She looked up. "Yes, boss?"
"Eat properly," he said. "You're too thin."
Her eyes widened slightly.
He had already turned away.
Did he just—?
She stared at his back as he walked out, confused, surprised, and strangely warm inside.
Meanwhile, Ryan stepped into his car, his expression back to its usual cold mask.
He leaned his head against the seat for a brief second.
"Get it together," he muttered to himself.
Yet no matter how hard he tried—
That small "mmm" kept replaying in his mind.
Aria remained standing there for a moment, completely speechless.
Too thin?
Her appetite vanished instantly as she looked down at herself, feeling the weight of his words and her own doubts.
Did he really say that?
She shook her head, trying to brush it off, but her heart was already racing. Embarrassment and confusion flooded her, making her internal struggle more palpable for the audience.
She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping softly against the floor.
Without thinking too much, she hurried into the hallway and spotted one of the maids arranging flowers in a vase. The maid looked calm, gentle, and far less intimidating than the man who had just left.
Aria walked up to her and lowered her voice.
"Excuse me," she said, hesitating. "Can I ask you something?"
The maid turned to her with a polite smile. "Of course, madam."
Aria swallowed. "Am I… too thin?"
The maid's eyes widened slightly in surprise. She looked Aria up and down, carefully, then shook her head immediately.
"No, madam," she said warmly. "You are very beautiful. Slim, yes—but healthy. Many people would wish to look like you."
Aria let out a small breath she didn't realise she was holding.
"Oh," she murmured.
The maid smiled again. "Master Carter only notices small details. He doesn't speak unless he means it."
That didn't help.
Aria forced a small laugh. "Right. Of course he does."
She thanked the maid and slowly walked back toward the dining area. The long table now looked too big, too quiet, too empty.
She sat down again but didn't touch the food.
Her mind was spinning.
Why did he even notice?
Why did it affect her so much?
She pressed her lips together and leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling.
Three months, she reminded herself—just three months.
Still… she had a strange feeling deep in her chest—like something in her life had already shifted, and there was no turning back.
And that thought scared her more than anything.