Alina frowned and smacked the side of the washing machine, frustration tightening every line on her face. The old, stubborn thing had decided again to make her life miserable, forcing her to feed in the clothes one by one like she was negotiating with it. If there was anything she desperately wanted right now, it was a new machine — especially with winter creeping closer. There were plenty of things to buy, but the money was barely enough for the necessities.
The morning air had begun carrying a sharper bite, lingering longer each day as though warning her that the cold season wasn't planning on being gentle.
The bell dinged.
With relief, Alina snatched out the washed clothes and shoved in the last batch. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she lifted the laundry basket and walked toward the bathroom.
She was dressed casually in black shorts and a pink thin-strapped top — her chosen armor for house chores. The outfit was light, flexible, and safe from getting unnecessarily soaked.
RING! RING!
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Setting the basket down, she fished out the phone. The name glowing on her screen instantly flattened her mood. It would have been such a peaceful morning without him. She answered the call anyway.
Silence.
Alina didn't speak, neither did the caller. They were contract husband and wife — nothing more. Right now, it felt like they were having some strange breathing contest as the seconds ticked by.
"Stubborn as always," Damian's amused voice finally slid through.
"Good morning to you too," Alina muttered with a frown. He always knew how to poke at her. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Thorn?" she drawled dryly, leaning against the bathroom doorframe.
Something on the floor caught her eye — Kelvin's blue brush. Their mother had always lamented his habit of leaving things scattered everywhere. If she ever returned and saw he hadn't changed, she'd start lecturing all over again. Alina smiled faintly as she picked up the brush and placed it on the rack above the mirror.
"Are you listening?" Damian's impatience seeped through the speaker.
…Listening to what? She had drifted so deeply into her memories that she hadn't caught a single word.
"Alina?" Damian called again, his voice carrying a hint of worry.
Frowning, Alina simply ended the call. It was too awkward. She refused to be thrown around by his voice or his sudden concern. They didn't love each other — there was no need for sweetness. If anything, giving him the cold shoulder was the most effective approach. With time he'd fully understand she wasn't interested. "Yes!" she cheered to herself and returned to the laundry.
Kelvin had left for school, leaving her alone in the house. She was planning to head to the bank soon to withdraw the last amount remaining in her account.
And she had lost her job. Somehow, she suspected Damian had influenced it—especially after he insisted she skip work the other day. He hadn't done it for anything bad, but he was persistent.
Lucas steered the gleaming car into a dreary, rundown street. The sharp contrast between the luxurious vehicle and the fading environment instantly drew attention. Potholes decorated the road, while small puddles shimmered dully across the uneven ground.
Damian's frown deepened with every second. He shot Lucas a glare sharp enough to slice steel. "It seems you got the wrong information about her residence… or you hid it from me, Lucas," he said, voice tightening. The neighborhood looked abandoned — forgotten by the government, forgotten by the world. The people sitting along the roadside made it obvious: war veterans who had lost everything, pickpockets, beggars, delinquents — the citizens society had let slip through the cracks. Damian's jaw ticked in irritation.
Lucas tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
When he had run a background check on Alina, he discovered exactly where she lived… but conveniently didn't tell his boss. Lucas didn't approve of Damian marrying a girl from such a place. He believed that once Damian saw the rough environment, he would hasten the process of moving Alina into the estate — a place Lucas believed should belong to Elena, not the girl who had suddenly captured Damian's attention.
This morning, Lucas was shocked when Damian abruptly skipped work just to visit his wife. They were complete opposites — day and night, fire and calm. "My apologies, boss," Lucas muttered stiffly.
Turning into another lane, the car stopped before a stained white building. Damian stepped out immediately, excitement lighting his face as he surveyed the area. This particular street was slightly better — the houses less broken than those they passed earlier. A cold breeze swept across, ruffling his dark hair and dropping loose bangs over his forehead. Sliding his gloved hands into his coat pockets, he took a steadying breath.
Meanwhile, Lucas sulked visibly in the car like a child denied his favorite treat. He wasn't entirely selfish — just convinced he was protecting his boss from choices he'd regret.
"Lucas!" Damian barked, eyes narrowing with predatory intent. He knew exactly what his assistant was avoiding — and he wasn't going to allow it.
Lucas hurried out of the car. Damian's glare alone was enough motivation.
Damian pressed the doorbell. He expected Alina to show up quickly… but silence answered him instead. "Huh?"
Inside, Alina groaned as the bell shrieked harshly into the house — a piercing, headache-inducing sound. All thanks to the cheap electrician her mother hired last year. He had 'fixed' the doorbell, but afterward they discovered it only rang loudly inside the house — painfully so.
"Low budget repairer," Kelvin had laughed, nearly choking as their mother tried not to smile.
It had been ages since anyone used the doorbell. Probably one of her mother's gossiping friends.
"Who's there?" Alina called out, opening the door. "Please don't use the bell again, just kno—"
She froze.
Damian stood before her with a knowing smirk. Dressed entirely in black, he towered over her — tall, sharp, annoyingly handsome.
"Wh—what are you doing here? How did you get my address? Aren't you supposed to be at work?" Alina fired off rapidly. Her heart hammered wildly. Why was she reacting this strongly? She tried to blame it on the shock of him showing up unannounced… but there was something warm fluttering in her chest she refused to name.
Damian gestured behind him. Alina followed his direction — Lucas stood there awkwardly, head bowed.
"I'm not the only one here, Alina. Please shelter us from this bitter cold," Damian whined dramatically, looking at her as if she were the only warmth in the world.
Alina planted herself in the doorway, hands on her hips, completely forgetting she was dressed in shorts and a thin pink top. "Why should I?" she retorted. The cold outside seeped against her skin, making her shiver slightly. When her gaze landed on Lucas — clearly freezing — she almost felt pity. Almost. Judging from Damian's smug smile, this had been his plan all along.
"I don't have anything to serve you two," she added quickly. "I was planning to go to the ban—"
"Don't worry. I ordered ingredients. They'll be here soon. I'll cook something delicious," Damian cut in, excitement sparkling in his eyes.
Alina let out a dark little chuckle. "I'm not eating anything you cook again," she said stubbornly, though the pasta he made yesterday still lingered pleasantly in her memory.
Damian leaned in, voice dipping. "Come on… your husband is starving," he whispered, his warm breath brushing her ear.
She jerked back, a blush rising up her neck. "No! I'm not eating whatever you—"
GROWLLL!
Her stomach betrayed her.
Heat flooded her face. The embarrassment was suffocating.
Damian's smile softened — entertained, fond, and entirely too pleased.
"Come in," she muttered, stepping aside. This was going to be a long, exhausting day. Winter was closing in, and she wasn't prepared for anything — especially him.
"Lucas, you should head to work," Damian said as he settled casually on the maroon couch.
"What?" Alina blurted out. That would leave her alone with him. Alone.
Her eye twitched.