<b>Chapter </b>91
OLIVIA’S POV
Since <b>I </b>came to this ce<b>, </b>I’d managed to maintain a steady bnce<b>–</b>emotionally, at least<b>. </b>No matter what happened, I always made it a rule to wake up and start the day with a positive mindset. But not today.
This morning felt different.
<b>I </b>woke up irritated, my mood sour before I even got out of bed. And I knew <b>exactly </b>why–Adrian. Every time he’s around, it’s like my peace takes a hit. The man can get under my skin like no one else. It’s almost as if he goes out of his way to push my buttons and today? Today was no exception.
He did this on purpose. I <b>was </b>sure of it.
Clenching the empty tube of toothpaste in my hand, I walked out of the bathroom, shoulders squared. My arms folded tightly against my chest <b>as </b><b>I </b>stood just in front of him, my foot tapping against the floor in annoyance.
He <b>was </b>on a call–figures. Probably talking about something “important.” But I didn’t care. This? This was important too.
I cleared my throat deliberately. Loud enough to catch his attention.
He finally turned, his brows raised, expression calm. “I’ll call you back in a few minutes,” he said to the person on the other end before removing his Bluetooth ear pods and slipping them into his pocket.
Then, he looked at me–smug, unreadable, and annoyinglyposed. “Is there a problem?”
I didn’t bother masking my irritation. “As a matter of fact, yes<b>. </b>A very big one.”
He leaned slightly against the table, his head tilting with feigned interest. “And what might that be?” he asked like he didn’t already know.
“You moved my shoes again. How hard is it to respect boundaries<b>?</b><b>” </b>
He blinked. “Really? That’s why you’re acting like your world’s falling apart? You interrupted <b>a </b><b>call </b>over shoes?<b>” </b>
“Don’t y dumb,” I snapped, stepping further into the room. “You know exactly what you did. And since when did that side of the closet be your territory?”
“That’s funny,” he said, standing up straight now<b>. </b>“I don’t recall us drawing lines in a shared closet. But since you asked, it stopped being just your side the day you decided to color–code it like you own the whole thing.”
I raised the now–ttened toothpaste in my hand and shook it at him. “And let’s talk about this. Could you stop using my toothpaste?”
He nced <b>at </b>it, then shrugged casually. “I ran out. What’s the big deal?<b>” </b>
I scoffed. “You <b>ran </b>out? <b>No</b><b>, </b>you’re just doing this <b>to </b><b>get </b>at me because it’s not the first time you’ve been using my <b>paste</b><b>, </b>would you <b>say </b><b>you </b>ran out <b>all </b>those <b>tires </b>too?<b>” </b>
“There is literally more than one toothpaste in this house. Why <b>are </b>you acting like Imitted a crime?<b>” </b>
“It’s not about the toothpaste!” I snapped. “It’s about you not respecting boundaries. You just walk in and act like everything belongs to you.”
He let <b>out </b><b>a </b>small chuckle<b>, </b>and that smirk on his <b>face </b>made my blood boil even more. “<b>That’s </b>because I do. Or did you <b>forget</b><b>?</b><b>” </b>
There <b>it </b><b>was</b>. That arrogant, entitled tone made me want to throw something at him. “And <b>there </b>you go again,” <b>I </b>said, shaking my <b>head</b>. <b>“</b>You know what<b>? </b>I’m not going to let you ruin my mood. I actually have ns today.”
I turned to leave, thinking the argument was finally <b>over</b><b>–</b>thinking I could walk away victorious for once<b>. </b>But <b>of </b><b>course</b>, he couldn’t let that happen
“You have ns? To go see <b>your </b><b>lover </b><b>Julian </b>or to go learn how to spend more <b>of </b>my money<b>?</b><b>” </b>Adrian’s <b>voice </b>dripped with <b>sarcasm</b>, but beneath the <b>surface</b>, <b>I </b><b>caught </b>something else<b>–</b><b>jealousy</b><b>. </b>He tried to hide it <b>with </b>his <b>usual </b>smug expression<b>, </b>but it <b>was </b>there. <b>Clear </b>as <b>day</b>.
<b>I </b>narrowed my eyes <b>at </b>him<b>. </b>“Julian is <b>just </b><b>a </b>friend, I’ve told you that more than a dozen times. And I still <b>don’t </b>understand why <b>you </b><b>care </b>when nothing is going on between <b>us</b>” I said <b>“</b>And <i>for </i>the record, you <b>really </b>think spending your money is all I’m good <b>for</b>? Well, <b>FYI</b><b>, </b>before we <b>got </b>married, I had ns. Real ones. I had job offers<b>, </b>and proposals to start <b>up </b>my <b>own </b>business<b>–</b>something that was mine. Not to end up stuck in this cold house with <b>a </b><b>man </b>who doesn’t even like mint toothpaste.<b>” </b>
There was a long, tense silence.
Then finally, <b>in </b><b>a </b>much calmer tone<b>, </b><b>he </b>asked<b>, </b><b>“</b>You had business ideas<b>?</b>”
I scoffed, folding my arms tightly. <b>“</b>Yes. <b>But </b>you wouldn’t know that would you? Because you never bothered to ask.”
11:34 AM
Adrian’s eyes softened a little<b>, </b>and he looked genuinely surprised. “What else don’t I know about you?”
That question… threw me off. I wasn’t expecting it. I had prepared for another snidement, not curiosity. My guard faltered.
“A lot,” I said quietly, “but it’s not like any of it matters now, does <b>it</b>?”
Adrian didn’t <b>say </b>anything right away. Instead, he moved slowly back to the couch where he had been before<b>, </b>sinking into the cushions like he suddenly had a weight to carry. There was a different look on his face–less of the usual arrogance, more like someone trying to understand something that had long been right in front of them but never noticed.
“It does actually,” he said, his voice more grounded. “And I’d like to hear a few if you don’t mind. I’ll try not to mess up your closet while I listen.”
<b>I </b>stared at him. This wasn’t part of the n. I had somewhere to be, things to do, people to meet. But for some reason, I stayed rooted to the spot. Maybe it was the way he asked. Maybe it was the fact that–for the first time since this marriage–he actually seemed interested in knowing something real about me.
With a small sigh, <b>I </b>walked over to where my phone was charging, unplugged it, and scrolled to a folder I hadn’t opened in months. I hesitated for a second, then carried the phone over and sat down beside him. Close–but not too close.
I handed him the phone. “These <b>were </b>some of my pitches,” I said, trying not to sound too bitter. “I had a passion for natural skincare. Wanted to make affordable, chemical–free products<b>. </b>These are product mockups and vendor contacts I’d collected before… all this.”
Adrian nced through the screen slowly, scrolling through the detailed notes, designs, and even a few sketches I’d done by hand. He <b>was </b>silent again, but this time it didn’t feel dismissive. It felt like he was actually paying attention.
“This <b>is </b>really good,” he finally said. “You should’ve told me about this sooner.”
I gave a shortugh. “Told you? You wouldn’t have cared. You were too busy believing I was just someone living off your fortune.”
He nced at me, and for the first time, he didn’t argue. “Maybe I was wrong,” he said simply.
And just like that, for the first time since we said our vows, we were sitting next to each other<b>–</b>not arguing, not pretending–but talking.
And somehow, that <b>was </b>scarier than all the fights we’d had.