She giggled as she played with his hair, clearly enjoying the nonsense she was up to. With a mischievous grin, she tucked a rose just above his ear and stifled another laugh. Zenon's brows creased slightly, but his eyes remained shut, refusing to entertain her antics.
She gently brushed his messy hair into place, humming softly as she reached for a small bottle of hair oil. But when she turned back—he was already looking at her.
His eyes were heavy, almost sleepy, staring directly at her lips. Her giggles paused.
"What?" she asked, blinking.
He didn't reply.
She followed his gaze to the flower she placed in his hair—then burst out laughing, holding her stomach. He didn't move, just stared. Her laughter grew too loud and too chaotic, and before long, even Zenon exhaled a half-laugh, his lips pulling into the faintest side smile.
Still laughing, she barely noticed when his hand reached out to grab her wrist. Gently, he wiped the tear that slipped down her cheek, his thumb brushing under her eye. The laughter died slowly in her throat. Their eyes met.
"Huh… ah… it's the…" she fumbled. "The flower… your hair—"
Zenon chuckled, low and quiet.
"Clumsy flower," he said, letting go of her wrist.
"I can see you're energetic this morning," he added, standing.
"My driver will be here by noon. Eat, bathe, drink water—and don't disturb me."
He gave her a side smirk. "Remember, I hate noise."
He paused, eyes scanning her outfit. "And change that blue gown. It's annoying me."
She beamed. "Yes, Zen."
Then she stood, arms behind her back like a child waiting for candy. "Okay, promise me—if I behave today, I get another homemade dish from you. But no ginger soup, fried beef, or spinach."
He nodded and walked past her, tapping her lightly on the head thanks to their ridiculous height difference.
"Wash your teeth first before striking any deals with me."
She spun around, offended. "Hey! Watch it, big guy. My teeth are clean!"
He nodded slowly, already at the door. "Not clean enough, Selene."
With that, he walked out and locked the door behind him.
Selene rolled her eyes and breathed into her palm… three times. Then frowned.
"…Was it that bad?"
---
Selene sank into the hospital sofa, a satisfied sigh slipping past her lips. A slow smile stretched across her face as she stared up at the ceiling, replaying the morning's chaos in her head. Her gaze lazily dropped to the plate of leftovers on the tray — the same ginger soup and spinach Zenon had gone all the way out to get for her.
She chuckled. "Tastes better when it's served with silent rage."
Standing up, she stretched her arms overhead and walked barefoot to the small hospital bathroom. She picked up the toothbrush from the side rack like it was a sacred relic.
"Make it extra clean," she whispered to herself, grinning at her reflection as she added toothpaste with exaggerated elegance.
With every brush, she scrubbed with mission-like determination — then paused and breathed into her palm. Sniffed.
She scowled. "Still not clean enough, huh? Tch. Mr. Scary Face has standards."
She rinsed her mouth, wiped her face, and tied her hair into a lazy bun.
Then she looked at the mirror again. Her eyes narrowed.
"One homemade meal a day," she said to her reflection, pointing a finger like it was law. "I'll marry you ten times if you keep cooking like that."
She laughed softly, towel over her shoulder, ready to start the rest of her day.
——
The limo waited outside the hospital, polished to perfection. Zenon stood tall beside Selene, his hands in his pockets while two of his men loaded her luggage into the trunk — even though she hadn't packed a single thing.
He'd ordered it all to be brought when she collapsed yesterday.
Selene smiled up at him, amused.
"Let's go home," she said softly.
Zenon didn't respond right away. Instead, he pulled something from his coat pocket — the rose she'd tucked behind his ear that morning.
"It's a pretty flower. Red. Rose. Selene. Chaos," he muttered.
She blinked. Then blushed. Her cheeks bloomed as red as the flower itself.
Geez, I'm falling in love, she muttered in her head, fingers fidgeting together.
He looked down at her. Not surprised. Almost like he heard her thoughts.
He handed her the rose. "Go home. And don't touch anything poisonous."
He leaned in a little, close enough for her to smell the faint spice of his cologne.
She twirled her hands in the air, bashful. "Oh stop it. I'm calm, reserved, refined. You know... boring."
"Exactly," he said, deadpan. "No touching."
She snapped into a mock salute. "Yes, sir. No touching."
He nodded in approval. "Good. Go home."
She paused. "Wait… you're not coming?"
"Work." Short. Simple.
She looked away, deflated. "So I'm just gonna sit at home alone... and slowly die of boredom?"
Her eyes lit up again. "Can I come?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Ugh. You're the fun killer."
She stomped off dramatically, muttering, "Scary-faced fun assassin…"
He didn't reply.
She slid into the limo, pouting. "Don't die before I kill you," she mumbled under her breath.
Then his voice came, quiet but firm. "Text me when you get home."
She looked away, lips twitching.
As the limo pulled away, she stuck her head out the window and waved dramatically.
"Byeee, Mr. Scary Face!"
Zenon just stood there, watching her go — unreadable.
Selene sank back into the seat, then pulled out her phone and typed into Chrome:
*How to make a brooding man smile… genuinely.*
---
The limo dropped her in front of the towering mansion, sunlight bouncing off the polished windows like the house itself was judging her.
She stepped out, stretched like she hadn't seen freedom in days, and approached the grand double doors.
"Just like I thought," she muttered with a knowing smirk.
Right at the center of the luxurious dining table sat an array of perfectly plated dishes — grilled salmon, sautéed vegetables, fresh fruit, even a bowl of soup still steaming. But what caught her eye was the small folded note beside the plate.
She picked it up and read aloud, voice flat.
*"Take your medicine."*
A tiny smile tugged at her lips — classic Zenon. Then she flipped it over and groaned.
*"Brush your teeth before eating those."*
"Not again," she huffed.
Without arguing, she bolted upstairs, grabbed the mouthwash, swished for ten seconds, and zoomed back down.
"I can't believe I'm being so obedient," she muttered, dragging the chair back like a criminal being punished.
From the corner, the butler and maid exchanged glances.
"She's chaotic," the butler whispered, eyes wide.
"And Master doesn't like noise," the maid added, barely moving her lips.
"I'm afraid he'll send her packing before the week's over," they said together with synchronized pity.
Meanwhile, Selene was too busy stuffing food into her mouth to notice.
"This is really good!" she mumbled, half-chewed rice flying.
The staff blinked. Then flinched.
"From now on, make sure this is what I'm served. Always," she said, pointing her fork like a queen declaring war.
They both nodded stiffly, unsure if she was joking... or dangerous.
Selene grabbed her glass, downed the water, and sighed dramatically.
"Good thing your scary-face master isn't home."
She leaned back with a grin. "Freedom."
She turned to them and added, "Thanks, guys!"
The maid blinked in shock. "You... don't have to, Mrs…"
Selene was already lounging on the living room couch, flipping through TV channels like she owned the place — which technically, she now did.
Still watching her, the maid whispered to the butler, "She's... a problem."