What kind of heaven is this?

Coming home from work to find a hot meal waiting for her. And on top of that, a tall, handsome man in the kitchen.

Arianna was still lost in this blissful daydream when she heard him ask, "What do you think? Or perhaps... you'd prefer I didn't cook and you'd rather just order takeout?"

Need it. She absolutely needed this.

Arianna pursed her lips, trying to look composed while fighting the urge to nod frantically. She couldn't quite fathom what Maxwell was playing at. Did he really need to hear her say it out loud? Eventually, caught between her appetite and her reserve, Arianna chose the former. "I'd like to eat your cooking, if that's okay?"

"It is."

Maxwell agreed with surprising speed. He stared at her, unblinking, his voice softening to a murmur. "You can ask me for anything, you know."

Arianna was still riding the high of a perfectly sweet slice of cake. She paused, blinking. "What?"

Why was he bringing this up now?

"We’re married, Arianna," Maxwell chuckled, his gaze fixed on her with a mix of indulgence and gentle resignation. His voice was like velvet, wrapping around her. "You can ask me to do anything. Is that alright?"

How could that be anything but alright? Arianna nodded, feeling a bit dazed.

Maxwell slowed his speech, his tone turning so soft it seemed to melt into the night air outside. "For example, next time you want a different flavor of cake, or you’re craving a specific snack, or you want me to cook—you can just tell me. You’re capable of handling these things on your own, of course, but it’s much more meaningful when we do them together, isn’t it?"

He leaned in closer. "You can ask me for anything, with no strings attached. Never be afraid to be a 'burden' to me. I’m your husband. Marriage is all about relying on each other."

He curled his eyes into a smile, his voice bright with amusement. "I hope our Mrs. King will realize that sooner rather than later."

Arianna froze for a long moment. The air around her seemed to stop moving. In that instant, she heard her own heartbeat—wild, fervent, and alive.

It was as if she had finally mustered the courage to push through the thick, suffocating fog, only to find the brilliant, burning sun waiting on the other side. She didn't know yet that the sun and the fog had always existed together. The sun had always been there—her own personal sun. Eternally warm, eternally sincere.

***

Later that night, Arianna lay in bed, tossing and turning. She stared up at the ceiling, where a single nightlight cast a hazy, cozy glow. Maxwell’s words and his earnest expression kept replaying in her mind.

It was rare to meet someone this genuine. He had impeccable character, he was responsible toward his household, and he was nothing short of attentive to her—a wife he had no prior emotional attachment to.

*Maybe spending a lifetime like this wouldn't be so bad.*

Arianna was startled by her own thought. But as she calmed down and really considered it, it made perfect sense. It was nearly impossible not to fall for someone as inherently good as Maxwell.

***

In Maxwell’s room, a similar nightlight cast dim, amber shadows across the floor. The man was wrapped in nothing but a towel around his lean waist. Water droplets traced paths down his bare, sculpted chest, highlighting the rigid, muscular definition of his abs.

His eyes were half-lidded, drowsy and relaxed. His lean, pale fingers gripped a towel, rubbing at his damp hair. Since his hair was short, it would dry quickly, but he took his time. He tossed the towel into the hamper, propped himself against the headboard, and picked up a book, clicking on his reading lamp.

The soft, rhythmic sound of turning pages filled the room, making the night feel even more profound. He had only read a few lines when he heard the door open in the hallway.

She was moving quietly, clearly trying not to wake him. Through the sliver of the doorway, Maxwell caught a glimpse of her shadow.

*She’s probably making a midnight snack or heating up some milk.*

Maxwell desperately wanted to go out and keep her company, to spend even a few more minutes in her orbit. But he was terrified of making her uncomfortable. Mrs. King was, after all, very prone to shyness.

He let out a breath, refocused on his book, and tried to look casual. In reality, his mind had already followed Arianna out the door.

The villa was soundproofed, so he couldn't tell exactly what she was doing. About five minutes later, there were two light taps on his door. Maxwell sat bolt upright, feigning composure. "It's open. Come in."

Arianna hadn't expected such a sight. It felt like a recurring dream. Maxwell was shirtless, lounging carelessly against the headboard with a book in his hand. His long legs were draped over the edge of the bed, his demeanor effortlessly suave. His firm chest and abs were on full display. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, with a delicate chain dangling at his temples. The light refracting through the lenses made his deep eyes look tender and soulful.

She froze in her tracks, unsure if she should stay or bolt.

Maxwell, on the other hand, stood up with natural grace. He took the milk from her hands, murmuring, "Careful, it's hot. Next time, just call me to come get it."

He’d expected her usual reply—the "It's fine, I'm careful enough" routine. He had even prepared a rebuttal. To his surprise, she just nodded. "Okay. I will."

A flash of genuine shock crossed Maxwell’s eyes, quickly followed by a surge of joy. She was finally lowering her guard. Even if it was just a trivial detail, the fact that she was willing to let him help—willing to let him step into her world—was a monumental start.

The corners of his mouth curled up, so wide that his following question sounded a bit too amused. "Can't sleep?"

Arianna couldn't understand why he looked so gleeful. She stayed silent for a few seconds before offering a diplomatic excuse. "I can sleep. I was just... thirsty. I went downstairs to heat up some milk and decided to bring you a cup."

Maxwell smirked. Under his knowing, teasing gaze, Arianna felt her little secret had nowhere to hide. She looked away, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Get some rest, then," Arianna said, turning to leave. "I'm heading back..."

A clear, low voice came from behind her. "I can't sleep."

Arianna stopped. "??"

Maxwell lowered his voice, dropping it into a tone of deliberate, pleading vulnerability. "I've got a touch of insomnia tonight. Would you mind staying with me for a little while?"

Arianna started to speak, but Maxwell cut in with feigned consideration. "Oh, never mind. It’s fine if you can't. I'll just read by myself; the night will be over before you know it."

Arianna: "..."

Why did he have to sound so pitiful?