Val woke before the sun had properly found its way through the curtains.

The room was still, dim, and quiet—just the sound of my breathing beside her, slow and even, the kind that came with deep sleep.

I didn't know it then, of course.

Her side of the bed stayed perfectly still—no shift, no sound, nothing to give her away.

But if I'd been awake, maybe I would've noticed the way she was watching me—quietly, like she was trying to read something written on my face, or maybe just thinking too much again.

But I wasn't awake. So I didn't.

Her hand moved before I even stirred. A soft touch, tracing along my jaw. I didn't flinch, just felt a slow warmth move across my skin as her finger followed the line of my cheek, down the bridge of my nose. Slow. Careful. Like she was memorizing me.

It stopped at my lips, and that's when I stirred. A small shift, a groan caught somewhere in my throat as my eyes fluttered open.

She smiled. "Morning, husband."

Her voice came out soft—too soft—and I had to blink a few times to properly see her. My throat was dry, voice rough. "What time is it?"

"Six twenty-two," she said without looking away.

"Oh." I stretched a little, the faint ache of sleep still clinging to me. When I finally looked back at her, she was already staring at my face like she was studying it. "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. You just look a little too handsome in the mornings, that's all."

I laughed quietly, still half-asleep. "That's not something I hear often before coffee."

She leaned closer, her hair falling over my shoulder, and kissed me.

It wasn't deep or hurried—just soft. Familiar. Like a whisper I'd heard too many times but still wanted to hear again.

When she pulled back, she smiled. "I'll go make you breakfast."

"You don't have to," I murmured, my voice low, still rough with sleep.

"I want to." Her fingers brushed my hair back, a simple gesture that somehow made my chest feel full. "Besides, I've only got a few more days to be the perfect wife before disappearing for another month."

Her words hit before I could stop them from settling in. I exhaled, sitting up a little. "You make it sound like you're going off to war."

She smirked. "Feels like it sometimes."

I smiled, but it didn't stay long. "Can't believe you're leaving again so soon."

She arched a brow, eyes glinting with that familiar tease. "You're missing me already?"

"Maybe."

Her lips curved again, soft but unreadable. "You'll survive. You've got work, Derrick, Priya…" She paused for a beat, that same mischievous spark lighting her eyes. "…and your team leader."

I searched her eyes, trying to tell if she was still mad or just teasing. But I couldn't read her this time. The words sat in the air longer than they should've, and an ache settled quietly in my chest.

Her giggle filled the room—small but genuine. "Relax, I'm kidding."

"Uh-huh," I said, giving her a look.

> "Mostly."

"Still not funny."

Her smile faded into something quieter. She reached over, brushing her fingers against mine before pulling away. "Rest a little, then go get ready. I'll be in the kitchen."

I opened my mouth, thinking I should say something—maybe ask if we were really okay, or tell her I was sorry again—but the words just wouldn't come.

"Val—"

She turned to look at me, her expression soft enough to make me forget whatever I was about to say. "Hmm?"

"Nothing," I said finally, letting a small smile slip through. "Just… thanks."

She didn't reply, just smiled faintly before walking out, leaving the room filled with her quiet, familiar warmth...

And me staring at the door, hoping this peace between us wasn't as fragile as it felt.

---

While I ate, she moved around the room, getting ready for the day. I could hear the faint sound of drawers opening, hangers sliding, the low hum of her voice when she thought I wasn't listening. She said something about dropping me off every morning before heading back to London. I didn't say anything—just nodded, even though something about the way she said it felt… off. Like there was more to it than she was letting on.

We left the house about twenty minutes later. The ride was calm, quiet. She had the radio on low, some morning talk show murmuring in the background, but neither of us really listened. I caught her glancing at me a few times, and when I looked back, she'd just smile like nothing had happened. Like yesterday never even existed.

She pulled up to the Gray & Milton parking lot a little over thirty minutes after we left the house. The moment the car came to a stop, I reached for my briefcase from the back seat of the SUV, already half turned toward the door when she spoke.

"I'll be back by twelve," she said.

I looked at her. "What for?"

She smiled first, that soft, knowing kind of smile that always made it hard to tell what she was really thinking. "To bring you lunch." Then she tilted her head a little, eyes catching mine with that mix of playfulness and something sharper underneath. "Unless you already have other options."

I raised a brow. "You're really not letting it go, are you?"

She shook her head, that familiar spark flickering in her eyes. "Never."

I couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh—half amusement, half disbelief.

"Alright, Mr. Tanaka," she said, her smile softening. "Off you go."

I reached for the door handle, but before I could open it, a Mercedes E-Class pulled up into the empty space beside us. I didn't need to look twice to know who it was.

Tasha.

Her door opened, and she stepped out—sleek black pantsuit, hair tied back neatly, phone in one hand. The usual.

Beside me, Val's hand froze halfway through fixing her hair. I could feel her attention shift instantly, her gaze sharp but calm.

Just as I pushed the door open, she said, almost too casually, "On second thought, I'll walk you in. I can, right?"

I turned to her, already knowing what she was doing. "Val…"

She smiled sweetly. "I'll stop just before the elevator. Promise."

I exhaled, shaking my head. "You're impossible."

"And yet," she said, smirking, "you love me."

There was no winning against her, not when she was like this.

We both stepped out of the car just after Tasha did. She was still by her door when she noticed Val standing beside me, and for a brief second, her steps faltered.

"Morning," I said, keeping my tone polite.

"Morning," she replied, her eyes flicking briefly to mine before shifting to Val. "Good morning, Celestia."

Val held her gaze for a moment—long enough that the silence felt heavier than it should've. Then she turned to me and said evenly, "Let's go in, husband."

Tasha's expression didn't change much, but I saw it—the faint stiffening in her jaw, the way her fingers tightened just slightly around her phone. Val knew what she was doing, and she wasn't even trying to hide it.

I sighed inwardly. She didn't just say it for Tasha to hear, she said it so there'd be no question, no space left for anyone else to assume otherwise. It was her way of making a point, subtle but sharp.

As we walked toward the glass doors of Gray & Milton, her heels clicked softly against the pavement, perfectly in sync with my steps. She didn't say a word, didn't even look at me.

But I could feel it—the quiet claim she'd just made.

And as the doors opened and the cool air of the lobby brushed against my face, I couldn't help but wonder if today would be a little calmer than yesterday… or if the day had only just started to get complicated.

Either way, I already knew—life with Val, even with the chaos... felt like home.

---

To be continued...

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