The storm outside had softened to a drizzle, but inside the home, the air was thick with tension, tenderness, and something unspoken.
Elena stirred on the bed, still weak, but no longer burning. Her cheeks were rosy, her breathing calm.
Ethan sat beside her, a bowl of soup in his hands, watching her like a hawk. His sleeves were rolled up, his hair slightly messy, and his tie hung loose around his neck. He hadn't left her side since bringing her home.
"Soup?" he asked gently as her eyes fluttered open.
She blinked up at him.
She tried to sit up, but he rushed to support her. "Easy. You fainted in the rain, remember?"
She looked away, embarrassed. "I was angry. I didn't think."
"I know," he said, helping her sip the soup. "I didn't think either. I was harsh. I'm sorry."
She looked at him, surprised. Ethan was apologizing?
He gave her a sheepish smile. "Don't get used to it."
She laughed again, softer this time. "Noted."
There was a pause — not awkward, but delicate. Like the calm after thunder.
He tucked the blanket around her. "You scared me today, Elena."
"I didn't mean to."
"You matter to me," he said quietly. "More than I expected you would."
Her breath caught.
"Wasn't this supposed to be a fake marriage?" she asked.
He smiled faintly. "That's what we told everyone."
"But not us?"
He looked at her. Really looked. "You walked into my life like a storm… and somehow, I don't want it to be fake anymore."
Elena stared at him, heart pounding.
And before either of them could stop it, his hand reached up and brushed her damp hair behind her ear.
"Sleep," he whispered. "We'll talk when you're better."
As she closed her eyes, she whispered back, "You're not so bad, CEO."
He chuckled. "Don't tell the press. I've got a cold reputation to maintain."
She smiled as sleep took her — safe, warm, and wondering when exactly fake started feeling real.