It's been nine days since we got married. Honestly, time is moving far too slowly for my liking. Kael has been home 24/7 for the past week. Meanwhile, I work as a secretary for the CEO of the Kim's Enterprise. I hated my job and loved it. It payed well but the employer is shit. It suits me—because that is my source of energy. Kael, on the other hand, seems to be embracing the full-time stay-at-home lifestyle. When I leave for work in the mornings, he's asleep. When I return briefly for lunch, there's always food prepared and waiting. He's usually lounging on the couch, watching something or reading. And when I come back in the evening, he's either making dinner or already has it prepped.
On the first day this routine began, I asked why he was doing all this. He said, "Even though neither of us wants this, I still have to act like a good husband. Not because I want to, but because I need to." I wasn't sure what that meant exactly, but considering I'm not the best cook, I didn't complain.
Today, however, is my day off. Finally, I got to see what his life really looks like. I woke up extremely late—11 AM, to be exact. When I opened my eyes, there he was, sitting on the bed, laptop on his thighs, watching a movie. I stared at him for a while, wondering if this was genuinely his daily lifestyle.
I got up, took a bath, and came out in a robe with a towel wrapped around my head. By the time I returned, breakfast was set on the bedside table. He was already eating his. I was genuinely taken aback. He'd never prepared breakfast for me before.
The toast had no crusts, just the soft, square centres—the way I liked it. He'd made scrambled eggs with onions, tomatoes, and pepper, just right. And there was a generous helping of kimchi on the side. Instead of coffee, he'd made matcha.
"Thank you," I murmured, unsure of what else to say. For someone I thought I hated, he remembered so much.
"I bought the Abyss tickets for Montenegro," he said casually.
"Thank you," I repeated, surprised by how soft he sounded.
The day continued lazily. He made lunch too—creamy pasta and tomato sauce. I thanked him again because, honestly, being fed all day wasn't a bad deal.
Eventually, I decided to get off my lazy ass and clean the house. With the other rooms still locked, my cleaning radius wasn't too big—just the kitchen, bedroom, living room, dining area, nursery, bathroom, the shoe rack area, and the two walk-in closets. Still, it was quite a lot.
Kael, meanwhile, remained planted in front of the TV.
While cleaning, I noticed some mail and dropped it on the dining table. Then I approached the living room to vacuum. His feet were in the way.
I powered on the vacuum and pointed it near his feet. He simply raised them, eyes still glued to the screen.
"Ya! Are you alright?" I snapped.
"Excuse me?" he replied, disbelief in his tone.
"I've cleaned the whole house, and when I finally get here, you lift your feet like some emperor?"
"Would you rather I left them there so you could complain about that instead?"
"That's true. But seriously, are you unemployed?"
"Oh, now it's about my job? At least I get to rest. You wake up at 6 AM every day, and I do have a job."
"Do what exactly? Sit on the couch and monitor the TV schedule?"
"Why are you really angry, Michelle? I know you hate me, but you're a bit much today."
Honestly, all I wanted was for him to help. Even a snarky compliment would have lifted my spirits. Something to spark a back-and-forth, to keep me going. But he gave me nothing.
"Forget it. I'm sorry," I muttered.
"I'm sorry too," he said, without emotion.
We let the moment pass.
"Later, can we get groceries? We haven't actually stocked up since your parents did."
He nodded silently. I finished up and went to change. When I came out, he was dressed and scrolling on his phone. Me? I was still sweaty, looking like a soggy rag.
"You are so evil" I muttered.
Kael turned around, surprised. "Lady, what do you want from me?"
I didn't reply. I showered quickly and changed into a lavender playsuit that stopped just above the knees, layered with a long black trench coat. I slipped on my sandals, grabbed a black crossbody bag, and walked out.
We drove in silence to the grocery store. Halfway through our shopping, he took a detour. I didn't bother to ask. When I got to the entrance, loaded with heavy bags, he was nowhere to be seen.
Eventually, he came running back, looking out of breath.
"Evil fellow," I said under my breath, hoisting two of the bags to the car.
"What are all these comments about?" he asked.
I was fed up. "It's okay. I don't want to talk to you again. Every time, you get on my nerves. It's not fair."
"Michelle, what's wrong?" he asked, for once sounding genuinely concerned.
We had placed the groceries in the boot, and were now standing behind the car. Arguing? Maybe. Processing? Possibly.
"It's nothing. I just wanted help. I know we're are not in the best of terms, but we live in the same house. The least you could do is pitch in."
He looked at me for a moment, then said softly, "I'm sorry."
"I'm not accepting your sorry. It's unfair," I snapped, turning away.
He stepped closer and handed me a small paper bag.
Inside was taro bubble tea.
"What about now?" he asked.
Before I could respond, a voice called out from behind us.
"Michelle?"
I turned around, surprised.
Of course. Just what I needed. Someone from my past, that I have tried my best to avoid all these years.
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Friend of yours?"
"Unfortunately," I said, already bracing myself.
Perfect. Just perfect.