“Dominic, you're way too thin. Eat up.”

I set the braised beef, the tomato beef stew, and the sweet-and-sour tenderloin right in front of him.

He liked all of it.

Jordan's jaw was clenched so tight the muscles twitched, his eyes practically burning.

Then he shot to his feet, slammed his chopsticks on the table, and stormed out.

Stella glanced at me, then at Dominic, who sat with his gaze lowered the entire time, and followed Jordan out.

My mood only improved.

The nuisances were finally gone.

Dominic watched the smile on my face. His lashes trembled, and then his hand slipped, spilling the soup from his bowl all over himself.

I startled and rushed to unbutton his shirt to check.

“Dominic, are you burned?!”

He kept his head down, perfectly still, perfectly obedient.

The moment my fingertips grazed his pale skin, he flinched hard and pulled away from me.

Only when I noticed the red tips of his ears did I realize I'd crossed a line.

“Sorry.” I cleared my throat, a little embarrassed.

“It's fine……” His voice was so soft it made something in my chest go hollow.

I'll admit my intentions just now weren't exactly innocent.

The Dominic I used to know had been the moon, beautiful and impossibly far away.

Born into old money, top of every class, blessed with a face that belonged on a magazine cover and six-foot-two of height to match. He turned heads no matter where he went.

But the universe has a sense of balance.

It gave him wealth and beauty, and saddled him with the worst personality imaginable.

Arrogant, condescending, untouchable. The rest of us were beneath his notice, unworthy of so much as a glance.

And yet last night, that same man had stood under the streetlight on a bad leg, trembling, eyes downcast, asking me to take him in.

He said he'd been the Langford family's fake heir all along. They'd broken his leg and thrown him out with nowhere to go.

The distant moon had suddenly dropped into my hands.

I couldn't think of a single reason to say no.

I even started regretting the fact that I was married.

Until Jordan brought Stella home.

In that instant, all I felt was relief.

I forgot every wound Jordan had ever given me and genuinely marveled at us. Husband and wife, truly in sync.

That sense of marvel lasted all the way into the evening.

Jordan, who never once came home on a night he was angry, came home early.

His face was still dark, and Stella still trailed behind him.

But for the first time in our marriage, he walked into the kitchen and started washing the dishes piled in the sink.

I watched him in an apron, hands covered in suds, and didn't know what to say.

There was a dishwasher in the kitchen. Jordan didn't know that, and had never used it.

When he finished, he didn't take the apron off. He sat down across from me, face stony, and said nothing.

I looked at him and offered a stiff：“Thanks.”

His expression darkened further.

He stretched one long leg out, blocking my path.

I looked at him, then at the suds still clinging to his hands, and inspiration struck. Against every honest bone in my body, I said：“The dishes are spotless. No other husband washes them that well.”

Jordan's expression eased just a fraction. He let out a cold huff and left.

That night, he went a step further and actually came into the bedroom.

We'd been sleeping in separate rooms for six months.

When it first started, Jordan's excuse was：“Work's been crazy. I don't want to keep you up.”

Later, when I went to pick him up drunk, I overheard him telling his buddies：“Irene's a bore in bed. Got sick of her. Now just looking at her makes me nauseous.”

By now, I was used to sleeping alone.

So when Jordan sat down on the edge of the bed, I felt an instinctive flicker of resistance.

Then he unbuttoned his shirt.

The black fabric looked ready to split across his chest, the muscle underneath gleaming like warm honey in the dim lamplight.

A sculpted waistline, tight abs, powerful thighs. Every inch of him radiated the kind of raw masculinity that made your brain go quiet.

I'll admit it. I really am a sucker for good looks.

When Jordan's large, well-defined hand slid toward my waist, refusing him was the last thing on my mind.

His lips were a breath away from mine when the knock came.

Dominic's voice filtered through the door：“Irene, are you still awake?”

In that moment, I understood exactly how lethal a college crush could be.

Every trace of desire drained out of me in an instant.

I kicked Jordan off me, scrambled to the door, pulled it open, and softened my voice：“Dominic, what's wrong?”

Dominic's gaze dropped to the marks on my neck, and something dark flickered behind his eyes.

He kept his head low, knuckles white around the hem of his faded shirt, voice rough：“I had a nightmare. I keep dreaming about the day they broke my legs. I'm scared. Can you stay with me?”

“Of course!”

I didn't hesitate for a second.

I was about to leave with Dominic when Jordan's voice erupted behind me.

“Irene Pruitt, what the hell is this? You're agreeing to sleep in another man's room right in front of your husband?!”

Before I could fire back, the guest room door across the hall swung open.

Stella stepped out with red-rimmed eyes, pleading：“Jordan, will you stay with me tonight like you did before?”

Jordan's expression froze. He scrambled to explain, his voice stiff and hollow：“Irene, it's not what you think. Stella and I just……”

I didn't wait to hear the rest. I slammed the bedroom door shut and followed Dominic back to his room.

Whatever Jordan and Stella were to each other, I no longer had the energy to care.

He'd ignored me and dismissed me too many times. Even without Stella, there would have been someone else.

After that night, I stopped paying attention to anything Jordan did. Every ounce of my focus went to Dominic.

He was genuinely high-maintenance.

His laundry required a specific detergent or his skin would break out.

He was impossibly picky about food: nothing fishy, nothing spicy, no bell peppers, no carrots.

He refused to drink plain water.

He couldn't fall asleep at night unless someone was there with him.

Taking care of him was like raising a sensitive, finicky cat.

It left me no bandwidth for anything else.

Jordan didn't notice at first.

He paraded Stella around at friends' gatherings, got cozy with her right in front of me, and even said to my face：“Irene, you're just a housewife. You can't even compare to Stella.”

Not only did I not get jealous, on a good day I'd nod along：“You're right. Stella really is impressive at her job.”

That was when Jordan panicked.

I had never ignored him like this. Not once.

From the day I married him, he was the center of my world.

Something exciting happened, I'd text him. Found good food, I'd text him. Saw something funny, I'd text him.

But now he suddenly realized that in the past six months, my messages to him could be counted on one hand. Almost all of them were replies to his instructions: 【Mm-hm】, 【Okay】.

He wanted to catch me during my morning grocery run, find a moment when it was just the two of us, and actually talk.

When Jordan got there, he discovered the grocery store I always went to had shut down ages ago.

It hit him then, how long he'd been neglecting me.

He was wrong.

He should fix it.

He'd apologize to me properly.

He wanted to go grocery shopping with me tomorrow.

So for the first time, he skipped the office and came home instead.

He wanted to wait for me.

But when he pushed open the door, there were Dominic and Stella sitting on the couch.