The house was silent.
Too silent.
No music, no humming from the kitchen, no dramatic crashing of pots because Yinyin was "experimenting with noodles and revenge."
She sat on the couch, scrolling through code.
Zeyan walked past her on the way to his office.
She didn't look up.
He didn't say anything.
The air between them?
Electric.
Sharp.
Cold.
At Lunch
The maid placed down two bowls of soup.
Usually, Yinyin would dump three spoonfuls of chili in his, just to mess with him.
Today?
Nothing.
She ate in silence.
He stared at her.
"You're not gonna say anything?"
She looked up slowly. Calm. Flat.
"About what?"
"About last night."
She wiped her mouth.
"There's nothing left to say."
He clenched his jaw.
"So that's it?"
"What do you want from me, Zeyan?
You tested me like I was your enemy.
You pretended to be someone else—
You watched me. And then you waited for me to break."
"I was protecting myself."
She scoffed.
"From me? Or from the truth?"
He didn't answer.
She stood up, tossed her napkin on the table, and walked away.
At Night
They lay on the same bed.
Back to back.
Two oceans of heat with a wall of pain in between.
His hand twitched, almost reaching for her.
But then she whispered:
"Don't touch me."
He froze.
"I wasn't—"
"You were."
Her voice cracked on the edge.
"And if you touch me… I'll forgive you too fast. And I don't want to. Not yet."
Silence.
Then she whispered again.
"You made me feel like a criminal in my own marriage."
He turned his head slowly.
"And you made me feel like a stranger in my own house."
The silence between them was louder than thunder.
The Next Morning
She woke up first.
Made coffee.
Left his mug out. No sugar. No smiley face in the foam.
Just a mug.
A statement.
A warning.
He came down later.
She was already gone.
On the table, she left one sticky note.
"Don't follow me. I need space.
If you really love me, let me be angry."
He stared at it for a long time.
Folded it.
And slipped it into his suit pocket like a wound.