For the first time in weeks, Ryan Ashworth woke without the ache of soreness pulling him from bed or Mei Lin's piercing voice ringing through the morning. Sunlight filtered softly through the floor-length drapery, bathing warm strips across the wooden floorboards. The room was an unusual silence. Nearly too quiet.
He blinked away sleep and slowly sat up, flexing his fingers and rolling his shoulders. His muscles still carried the dull ache of training, but the pain felt earned. A badge of progress.
The door opened with a groan, and Jane Blackwood stepped inside, her heels tapping quietly on the floor. She was already attired for the day—burgundy silk shirt tucked into neat slacks, her dark hair swept back in a tight ponytail. She could have posed for the cover of a business magazine.
"You're awake," she said, sounding almost lighthearted.
"I think I slept for ten years," Ryan grumbled, massaging the back of his neck.
She smiled and folded her arms. "You've deserved it. Mei Lin's report was. surprisingly positive."
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "Did she speak actual words, or grunt and nod at you?"
Jane laughed. "Both. But that's high praise from her."
She moved in closer and sat on the edge of the bed. "You'll be pleased to hear that from today on, you have two days completely free. No drills. No bruises. Rest. Let your body recover."
Ryan leaned back and exhaled with relief. "Best news I've heard this month."
"But," she added with a sly look, "after your break, we'll start conventional weapon training. And Mei Lin will be teaching you herself."
Ryan stood up straight. "Weapon training? I get to choose?"
Jane nodded. "It'll be an extension of you. What do you choose?"
Without deliberation, he said, "A katana. Always my favorite."
Her lips curled into a smile of approval. "A good choice. Balanced. Deadly. Mei Lin is very skilled with the katana—she'll show you how to use it like an extension of your body."
He smiled. "Perfect."
Jane straightened and checked her watch. "I have to get to the company. There's a board meeting this afternoon. Don't burn the house down."
"I'll try to hold back," he said dryly. ".
She gave him a farewell wink before leaving the house. "I'll be home tonight."
As soon as she left, the quiet of the house reasserted itself.
Ryan strolled into the living room after a brief shower, clad in a cozy grey hoodie and joggers. Silence was refreshing. No drills. No barking orders. No leaping out of the way of hurtling sandbags. He snatched a protein bar from the kitchen counter, plopped down on the giant couch, and opened his tablet. With a few clicks, he accessed his go-to web novel app.
A single title caught his eye on his favorite list—"Falling Stars, Rising Blades."
He grinned, the nostalgia rushing in. He'd begun reading it his first year of college, when his most pressing worry had been grades and cafeteria food. The novel took place in a world where a young orphan boy named Kael was drawn into a war in the skies among star-bound gods and blade-wielding mortals. The planet was full of impossible landscapes—floating islands, glass forests, and seas of boiling fire. Kael had begun weak, broken, not knowing where he belonged.
But the more Ryan read, the more he identified with Kael. A boy who'd lost everything. Who had to train, fail, bleed—and rise. Every chapter drew him in deeper. Kael's first duel. The sacred blade trials. The night he broke his limits and became a Star marked Warrior.
Ryan read for hours, eyes glued to the screen. He chuckled at Kael's sarcasm, tightened his fists at the fight scenes, and felt his chest constrict as Kael came close to death defending the girl he loved.
Somewhere, when the excitement of the story died down, Ryan reclined, eyes stinging from prolonged staring at the tablet. His fingers wandered to the game controller on the table. He had to take a break from the feels.
He powered on Dynasties Reborn, his go-to action RPG. As the title screen flashed to life with a flourish of clashing blades and burning runes, he smiled weakly.
"You're about to get your ass kicked by someone who just survived Mei Lin," he grumbled.
For the next couple of hours, he lost himself in the game—hacking through hordes, upgrading gear, mastering combos that mirrored real-life stances Mei Lin had taught him. He noticed something odd—his reaction time was better. He read enemy patterns faster, adjusted quicker. The training had bled into his muscle memory, even in pixels.
By late afternoon, hunger panged him. He took leftovers from the refrigerator, ate silently, and then went back to the couch. The house was still quiet as twilight crept in, tinting the sky with pale lavender and dark blues.
But when the virtual world receded and the sun started setting, reality reasserted itself.
There were footsteps down the hallway. Jane had come back.
She walked into the room, blazer draped across one arm, lips already twisting into a wry smile. "Looks like someone had too much fun with his freedom."
"Perhaps a little too much," Ryan admitted, putting the controller down. "I had forgotten what it was like. being normal."
Jane moved towards him, her gaze sweeping across him slowly. "Normal does not fit you anymore."
He was about to answer, but she put her finger on his lips, stilling him.
"I almost forgot," she whispered, "we're making a little change beginning tonight."
"What sort of change?" he asked warily.
Jane moved closer, her voice husky and teasing. "We'll be sharing a bed now."
Ryan's eyes widened. "Sharing?"
"You are my husband, Ryan." Her smile grew. "It's about time we behaved like it."
"I—uh…" he stuttered.
Jane retreated with a gentle laugh, obviously relishing his reaction. "Don't worry. I won't bite… unless you want me to."
With that, she strutted into the bedroom, hips shaking just enough to ensure he got the point. She didn't glance back.
Ryan stayed frozen on the couch for a few seconds, trying to determine if this new set-up was a blessing… or an impending storm.
And for the first time in a really long time, he wasn't quite sure which he preferred.