Ava Ren's POV
I flung open the mansion doors like I'd just won a courtroom battle.
"I'm hoooome!" I called, kicking off my shoes with the most satisfying sigh.
Silence.
Typical. Mr. Stonewall was probably locked away in his Dracula office again, pretending like he didn't care I'd been gone all day.
I twirled into the hallway anyway, my giant law books threatening to topple from my arms. "AL-EX!" I sing-songed, louder this time, dropping my bag dramatically in the middle of the hallway. "Your sunshine wife is back from her big, scary legal adventures!"
Still no answer.
That was fine. I could talk enough for the both of us.
I skipped past the marble pillars, hair swishing all the way down my thighs, and marched toward his office. But before I could knock, the door creaked open and there he was—leaning against the frame, arms crossed, tired eyes on me like I was something both ridiculous and inexplicably fascinating.
"You survived," he muttered.
I gasped. "You worried about me."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"You were gone for seven hours, not seven years."
I squinted. "Suspiciously specific. Someone was counting."
He looked away.
I grinned.
He started walking back toward his office, but I followed him like a golden retriever on espresso.
"You'll never believe what happened today," I exploded, launching into my story as I spun around his desk chair and flopped into it backward. "So first, Professor Lin called me brilliant. Again. Obviously. Then Rachel complimented my hair, and I helped Simon find the page he lost in his notes and he blushed like a tomato. Also, campus security gave me a coffee coupon for being 'so helpful'—I didn't even know that was a thing."
Alex said nothing. Just stared at me over his laptop.
"But wait!" I leaned over the desk, eyes wide. "The best part? Some guy tried to ask me out."
His brows rose.
I beamed.
"Obviously, I said no. Because, duh. But you should've seen the poor guy's face when I told him I have a 'very tall, very rich, very cold husband who would probably sue you just for blinking at me too long.'"
His jaw tightened just the tiniest bit. "Did you really say that?"
I gasped. "Do you think I made you sound too scary? I could've gone with mysterious and possessive but heartbreakingly misunderstood."
Alex rubbed his temples.
I stood up, pranced over, and wrapped my arms around his stiff shoulders. "I missed you."
"You saw me this morning."
"Time is fake. I missed you anyway."
He sighed.
I kissed his cheek.
He froze.
"I made pasta," I whispered, chin on his shoulder now. "With cream sauce. And little mushroom hearts. Wanna eat with me?"
"I'm working."
I pouted. "Fine. I'll just go dine with the drivers and security guards who do like my food and do want to hear about my day. Officer Zhou even asked for seconds last time, by the way."
I let go dramatically and started tiptoeing away.
"…Bring the pasta," he mumbled.
I turned so fast I almost slipped. "What?"
He looked annoyed. "Bring it here. I'm hungry."
I squealed. He winced. I didn't care.
Later that night, we sat on the floor of his massive office, twirling pasta and sipping sparkling water like two mismatched puzzle pieces that somehow… clicked.
He listened more than he talked, but that was okay.
I talked more than I breathed, but that was also okay.
Because even if the world didn't know I was Mrs. Ren…
Even if my marriage was a secret…
This—us, together on the floor, laughing over dinner and dodging whipped cream hearts—was real.
And I wouldn't trade it for anything.