Since they still had an hour, Arianna didn't feel pressured. She moved at a leisurely, sluggish pace, taking her time with her morning routine.

Her movements were slow, unhurried, and undeniably adorable. Maxwell leaned against the wall, one elbow propping him up as he watched her, a faint smile playing on his lips. He leaned over and clicked the bathroom door shut to give her some privacy.

"Come out and have some breakfast once you're ready."

Arianna paused, her toothbrush mid-air. "You bought breakfast?"

"Yeah," Maxwell said with a shrug, his tone casual. "I picked some up downstairs while you were still sleeping."

"Oh. I'll be out in a second."

"No rush. It's in an insulated bag; take your time."

They were two completely different types of people. Maxwell was the impatient, "let's-get-it-done" type—efficient and decisive. Arianna, in her work life, was much the same. But in her personal life, her inner turtle tended to reveal itself, especially when it came to the struggle of getting out of bed.

During her morning routine, she had to summon every ounce of willpower to keep from diving back under the covers for another nap. It was a daily battle, far worse in the winter than in the summer.

These days, the thing Maxwell said to her the most was: "Don't rush. What are you in such a hurry for? Just take your time."

He was a man who hated waiting, yet he never pushed her to match his pace, nor did he lecture her on her habits. That small consideration won him a lot of points. It seemed like such a trivial thing, but it was rare to find someone who actually practiced it.

Three bulging insulated bags sat on the table. As soon as she emerged, Maxwell began unwrapping them. Arianna pulled up a chair and opened one of the containers.

The spread was surprisingly hearty: savory oatmeal, warm maple-glazed pancakes, and flaky sausage rolls. There was even a small thermos filled with soothing ginger and honey tea.

"Arianna, drink this while it's hot." Maxwell pushed the thermos toward her. He studied her expression for a moment, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you really not in pain anymore?"

"It's gone," Arianna said truthfully. "I don't know why, but I woke up feeling fine. Usually, these cramps last all day."

Maxwell chuckled. "Well, that’s a relief."

They chatted idly as they ate. Arianna kept her eyes down, gently stirring her tea with a spoon. The steam clouded her eyelashes, making her dark eyes appear even brighter and more luminous.

"What time do you head into the office?" she asked.

"Nine or ten," Maxwell said smoothly. "I've got time."

"Oh." Arianna didn't suspect a thing. But for some reason, she found herself fixated on his itinerary today. A moment later, she frowned. "Didn't Cole come with you?"

"No," Maxwell said, mentally jotting down a tally against Cole Parker. He kept his face calm and gentle. "Why? Why do you ask?"

"No reason. Just curious."

It didn't make sense. Usually, wouldn't an executive assistant be traveling with his boss? Especially someone like Cole. But he hadn't shown up at all. A realization began to bloom in the back of her mind, sharp and undeniable.

"Did you bring any other assistants, then?"

Maxwell was busy eating and didn't catch the shift in her tone. "No. Just me."

So, that meant he didn't even have a driver.

A few seconds later, Maxwell realized what he’d just admitted. He tried to backtrack. "I mean, I have other assistants and a driver. They're just staying at a different hotel."

But Arianna wasn't buying it.

She stared at him, her expression shifting from shock to pure disbelief. She spoke slowly, emphasizing every word. "So, you rushed all the way here last night... just for me?"

She felt a lump form in her throat. "Just because... because you heard me say I had period cramps over the phone?"

The jig was up. He’d been caught red-handed. Seeing that she was too sharp to fool, Maxwell didn't even try to lie. "Yes. I was worried about you."

Arianna froze. Beyond the shock, a wave of panic washed over her. She began to ramble, her words tripping over themselves. "You—you didn't have to fly out here personally! You could have just called me, or sent a text..."

"I needed to see you to be sure you were okay," Maxwell said firmly.

Arianna was speechless. She was touched, but also deeply rattled. Her eyes began to redden as she stared at him. "Maxwell... why are you so good to me?"

He saw the confusion in her eyes and his heart ached. He reached across the table, wrapping his hand firmly around hers. He held her gaze, his voice steady and solemn. "Arianna, I want you to get used to me being good to you."

"This is my choice. I want to do this. I want to take care of you."

"To put it another way: you are worth it. Do you understand what I mean? Because it's you, I’m willing. Don't ever sell yourself short or belittle yourself. You are incredibly talented—I've always thought so."

"You deserve every good thing in this world. You have so many qualities that I don't even possess. And don't even think about how to pay me back. You just accepting my care—that is the greatest gift you could give me. There’s nothing better than that."

Her eyes had only been slightly damp before, but by the time he finished, Arianna was weeping. She didn't know why, but ever since she had entered this relationship with Maxwell, her tear ducts had been working overtime. Every little gesture from him seemed to pull the tears right out of her.

Maxwell stood up, grabbed a stack of napkins, and walked over to her side of the table. He leaned down, gently dabbing at her face. "Don't cry, Arianna. Don't cry."

"It’s my fault. I didn't tell you these things sooner. I didn't realize how much you needed to hear them."

Back in university, Maxwell had specifically read up on psychology. He knew that people who grew up starved of affection were often insecure, sensitive, and struggled with a sense of low self-worth. They would push away kindness, feeling panicked or overwhelmed, convinced they didn't deserve it.

He wiped the corners of her eyes with infinite tenderness. "You have to go to work soon. No more tears, okay?"

Arianna’s nose was bright red, her voice thick with sobs. "...I’m not crying."

Maxwell: "..."

He couldn't help but laugh, a soft, helpless sound. "Alright. You're not crying."

He took her hand and led her toward the bathroom. "Come on, let’s wash your face. We don't want you showing up to work with puffy eyes."

With him personally supervising her face-washing, they finally managed to finish their breakfast in peace.