The office atmosphere was harmonious, and Charlotte Marshall was doing her best to mentor her.

It had to be said: a powerhouse is a powerhouse for a reason. In a single day, Arianna Stone had mastered every step of the new product process, identified all the key partners, and digested the mountain of data from the department in charge of the launch.

Arianna had done this kind of work before, but joining Charlotte’s team was nowhere near as complicated as she had feared. It gave her a massive boost of confidence.

***

Maxwell King lounged against the dining table, watching the young woman on the sofa. She was propping her chin on her hand, lost in thought.

She stared at her laptop for a few beats before her fingers began to fly. Slender, porcelain-pale fingertips danced across the keys, the crisp clatter filling the room. After a few minutes, she seemed to sense his gaze.

She turned, looking blank. "Am I typing too loud? Am I distracting you?"

"Not at all."

Maxwell stood up and walked toward the living room. Just as he reached her side, the doorbell rang. It was late.

Arianna stood up, curious. "I'll get it."

Maxwell didn't stop her. He leaned back against the sofa, looking relaxed. "Go ahead."

As she passed the entryway, Arianna caught a glimpse of the screen. A building staff member was waiting outside. Arianna pulled the door open. "Yes? Is there something you need?"

The staffer handed her a bouquet of roses and a box of cake.

Arianna stared at them, confused. Were these surprise gifts?

"These are for you, ma'am," the staffer said. "An order from Mr. King. It arrived a few minutes ago. Have a pleasant evening."

"…Thank you."

The door clicked shut. When she returned to the living room, Maxwell was standing by the foyer, his hands shoved casually into his pockets. He stood tall, his eyes crinkling with a smile as he watched her.

As she walked in, Maxwell took the cake from her hands and placed it on the coffee table. Arianna hugged the roses, following him.

The scent of flowers filled the space. The rose petals were adorned with crystal-clear dew, looking impossibly fresh. She watched his movements, so fluid and natural, and it finally clicked.

"Is this for me?"

"Of course," Maxwell replied, grinning.

The cake was inside a transparent box, tied with a beautiful ribbon. Fresh strawberries covered the cream, with little piped-flower accents. It looked silky and decadent.

"But… it's not my birthday."

Maxwell turned and walked toward her. He stopped just inches away, looking down at her with a gentle, coaxing tone. "Who said you need a birthday to eat cake? If you want it, you can have it whenever you like."

"It doesn't need to have a deeper meaning. As long as you’re happy."

Arianna tilted her head. "Then why the cake today?"

"To celebrate my wife getting a promotion," Maxwell said, reaching out to ruffle her hair. He sounded genuinely regretful. "I only managed to order the flowers and cake this time. Next time, Mrs. King, please give me two hours' notice."

Arianna had already guessed his next move. "And then?"

"So I can prepare a full feast for you."

For every word she spoke, Maxwell met it with action. Every single time. The last time she secured her permanent position, and this time, her unexpected promotion. He seemed even more excited and invested in her success than she was.

With him, Arianna felt a sense of security she had never known before.

Every word had a response; every concern was heard.

***

The strawberries, coated in cream, were a perfect balance of tart and sweet, bursting with juice and rich, milky flavor.

Arianna tilted her head, delighted. "This is delicious!"

Maxwell smiled, digging a spoonful of cake from his own plate, ready to eat it.

"Wait," Arianna interrupted him urgently.

She used a small pink serving knife to lift a strawberry, draped in a dollop of sweet cream, and placed it on his tray.

"You have to try this one. It's actually amazing!"

Her eyes were wide with anticipation and joy, fixed on him. She was tilted slightly, a brilliant, expectant smile on her face. Being this close, Maxwell could see the perfect arc of her long, curled lashes.

He suddenly wished this moment could last forever.

Maxwell blinked, pretending to be baffled. "What?"

Arianna pointed at the strawberry, urging him. "Eat it."

Maxwell was struck by how cute she looked. A low chuckle escaped his throat. He nodded, slowly picking up the strawberry and popping it into his mouth.

Arianna rested her chin in her hands, watching him intently. "Is it good? Isn't it just the best?"

Maxwell smiled and nodded. "It's good."

"It's really, really good."

Arianna gave him an "I told you so" look, wearing a smug, satisfied grin before turning back to her own cake.

The roses had been trimmed and placed in a vase. The delicate petals shivered in the slight breeze, filling the air with a rich, intoxicating fragrance.

"Arianna," Maxwell said, "besides roses and sunflowers, what other flowers do you like?"

People's tastes changed. Maxwell’s knowledge of her preferences was frozen in their college days. He had no other way to gauge her current life, so he had to ask directly.

"I like all of them," Arianna said softly.

"And cake?" Maxwell pressed, not letting her off the hook. "Besides strawberry and chocolate, what other flavors do you like?"

For a moment, Arianna couldn't think of anything. "Anything is fine. Strawberry and chocolate are great."

Maxwell let out a helpless, quiet laugh.

He understood now. Getting Arianna to express a preference was harder than climbing a mountain. She was so afraid of being a burden that she constantly stifled her own desires.

It was only then that Maxwell truly realized: since their reunion and marriage, Arianna had never once made a single demand of him.

She was always the easy-going one, the one who said, "Whatever is fine."

So, Maxwell played his trump card.

He pulled out his phone, glanced at it for show, and said offhandedly, "I'm leaving the office early tomorrow. I’ll have time to cook."

"Do you want me to make dinner, or should we just order takeout?"

Arianna paused.

In all honesty, Maxwell’s cooking was excellent. But takeout was good, too. Still, his cooking suited her palate better. He knew exactly what she loved and what she hated. If there was a seasoning she disliked, he would swap it for something else without losing the essence of the dish. He looked after her needs perfectly.

Arianna felt a bit shy. She felt bad about openly asking him to cook for her. She rehearsed what to say in her head a dozen times before deciding to give up and be subtle. "I'm going to be very late tomorrow…"

*Don't trouble yourself, just order takeout.*

Before she could finish, Maxwell cut her off, his voice smooth and certain. "Understood. I'll have dinner ready and be waiting at home for you."