Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
And then his phone was in his pocket and his hands were on her, and she forgot what elevators were for, because they were certainly not designed for what came next.
Even now, Maika couldn't keep her toes from curling whenever she recalled that particular...incident. While coming out of the elevator wasn't something she'd describe as a walk of shame, it was also clear that everyone around them knew what they had been up to. She was flushed and breathless, her blouse untucked, and Mykos hadn't even bothered to fix his hair.
And it was also kinda cute but embarrassing with how Mykos, whom everyone had always feared and thought heartless...
He had taken things completely in stride, still holding her hand as they walked in full view of everyone. It was as if he was saying, 'yes, this is my wife, and we can't keep our hands off each other.'
His receptionist had very determinedly looked at her computer screen. His assistant had developed a sudden fascination with the ceiling. And Maika had wanted the floor to open up and swallow her, but Mykos's hand was warm around hers, and there was the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth, and she thought: he's proud of this. He wants them to see.
Honestly, the way Mykos was acting, when she thought about it...
Am I imagining things, God?
Or is it possible that Mykos has also fallen in love?
With me?
And the moment she started thinking that way, it was impossible to unthink.
Impossible to forget.
And that was how one day the words simply slipped out.
They were in bed, tangled together, her head on his chest, his fingers tracing something on her shoulder. Slow, absentminded lines, like he was writing. She was half-asleep, warm, safe, her body still humming from an hour ago, and then...
"I love you."
He stiffened. She froze. But there was no taking back words that had already been spoken.
Oh God, what do I do?
She waited for him to say something.
But he didn't.
Her heart started pounding.
And so did his.
But she just couldn't tell if their hearts were beating to the same melody.
Help me, God.
I'm so scared.
I think I just ruined everything.
And she was unfortunately...right.
WHEN SHE WOKE UP, THE bed was empty. But when she reached for his pillow, there wasn't any note waiting for her.
She stared at the bare pillow for a long time. Every morning since their wedding, there had been a note. Sometimes teasing (Are you about to hug this pillow because you miss my scent?). Sometimes brief (Meeting at nine. —M). Sometimes just his initial and a dash, which she had come to understand was his version of saying I'm thinking of you, but I'd rather die than admit it.
Today, there was nothing.
He didn't come back to join her for dinner like he usually did. It was also the first night that she fell asleep without her husband by her side. But it wasn't the last.
The second day, she told herself he was busy. He ran a company. He had meetings. People depended on him. It was fine. She was fine.
The third day, she found herself checking the security cameras in the hallway, and she saw him come through the front door at two in the morning and go directly to his study. He didn't even glance toward the stairs.
The fourth day, Portia started looking at her with that careful, worried expression that staff wore when they knew something was wrong but weren't allowed to say so. Maika smiled at her and said everything was fine, and Portia nodded and didn't believe her, and they both pretended otherwise.
The fifth day, she sat in Maika's Corner in the library and tried to read, but the words kept blurring. She pulled down the Midsummer Night's Dream pop-up book and opened it to the page with the fairy forest, and she stared at the little paper trees until her eyes burned.
The sixth day, she heard him in the hallway outside their bedroom at four in the morning. His footsteps paused. She held her breath, lying rigid under the covers, her whole body straining toward the door. Come in. Please. Just come in.
The footsteps continued down the hall.
And when an entire week went by that she didn't see him at all even though she knew for a fact that he did come home—
It just seemed like he didn't want to see her.
What did I do wrong, God?
Was it wrong to tell him I love him?
How can love be wrong?
She knew things couldn't go on like this, and that was why, even though she was so, so tempted to pretend everything was okay...
She prayed for courage, but she also drank several cups of coffee because she had never been a night owl. She sat at the foot of the stairs in her pajamas and one of his stolen shirts, her hands wrapped around her fourth cup, her bare feet cold against the marble. The house was silent. Orion had gone to his quarters hours ago. The staff were asleep. Even the fountain outside seemed to have gone quiet, as if the whole house was holding its breath along with her.