Chapter 111: The Good Girl Act
After she fed me and herself the crackers and cheese, we both took our baths. Steam still lingered faintly in the air, curling out from the cracked bathroom door as I pulled on a clean pair of boxers. The towel around my shoulders stuck to droplets that hadn’t quite dried, and I was halfway to sliding a T-shirt over my head when I froze.
Because Val was staring.
Not casual staring, not the distracted kind. No, this was full-on, finger-to-her-lips, eyes half-lidded, like she was deciding if she should whistle or pounce.
I blinked. "...What?"
She tilted her head, finger resting lightly against her bottom lip, tongue peeking against it in the most distracting way imaginable. "Nothing. Just... admiring my sexy husband."
I nearly choked on air. "Ha ha. Very funny."
Her eyes narrowed like she was sizing me up. "Who said I was joking?"
"Please," I muttered, dragging the shirt the rest of the way down. "You’re just trying to mess with me."
"Mm, maybe." She grinned, leaning against the wall. "But doesn’t mean it’s not true."
I gave her a look. "You really don’t hold back, do you?"
"Why should I?" she shot back, playful and bold. "You’re mine, aren’t you?"
I rolled my eyes, but my ears were warm. "You’re ridiculous."
"And you love it," she said smugly.
Her lips curved into a lazy grin. "But seriously," she dragged the words out, like she was savoring them, "I still can’t believe you actually got jealous."
I stalled, smoothing the fabric of my shirt. "...I wasn’t jealous. Not like that." My fingers lingered there a moment longer before I let them fall, avoiding her gaze. "It was more of... I don’t know. Irritation. Annoyance. Frustration, maybe."
"Mmhm." Her tone was pure mockery. "Because nothing says ’not jealous’ like sulking at crackers over a text message."
I shot her a flat look. "You’re not letting this go, are you?"
"Nope." Her eyes gleamed with amusement. "You should’ve seen your face, Kai. Dead serious. Like Bradley Sinclair had personally threatened world peace."
I ran a hand down my face. "I wasn’t—"
She cut me off smoothly. "You were. And now you understand why I don’t let any girl get too close to you."
That made me pause. "...You mean because you’d get jealous?"
"Exactly." Her voice was light, but her eyes locked with mine, steady and unflinching. "And not just jealous. I’d probably do something horrible."
I raised a brow. "You mean something you’d regret?"
Her lips curved slowly, almost daring. "Nope. Just horrible."
"Wow." I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be mildly concerned. "You’re scary."
"Thank you." She giggled, the sound soft but edged with mischief, like she actually enjoyed my disbelief.
I finished smoothing my shirt, shaking my head as if that would clear the conversation from the air. She, of course, acted like nothing unusual had been said, humming lightly as she adjusted her hair in the mirror.
"Alright." She clapped her hands together once, decisive. "Let’s study."
I blinked. "...Okay? What’s the catch?"
"No catch," she said, all wide-eyed innocence.
"There’s always a catch."
"Not this time." She leaned back on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows, a faint smirk tugging at her lips that contradicted every word coming out of her mouth.
I narrowed my eyes. "...You’re enjoying this way too much."
She shrugged, grin unbothered. "Maybe."
I let out a breath, deciding not to press her further. Even if she swore up and down there wasn’t a catch, experience told me otherwise. With Val, there was always something waiting around the corner—whether it was a game, a scheme, or some out-of-the-box way of turning a normal day upside down.
Still, as I watched her stretch out on my bed like she owned it—like she owned every inch of space she stepped into—I couldn’t bring myself to complain.
Because maybe there was a catch. Maybe there always would be with her.
But if the catch was her... then I really don’t mind.
---
We studied. For two whole hours.
Not once did she try to poke me, tug at my sleeve, crawl across the bed to kiss me, or start humming some ridiculous tune just to throw me off. Nothing. Just pages turning, pencils scratching, and the occasional sigh as she flipped through her notes.
At first, I thought maybe she was actually serious this time. Maybe she’d finally decided to put her brain to work without using me as her entertainment. But the longer it went on, the stranger it felt. Celestia Valentina Moreau, silent for two hours straight, without even so much as a smug comment?
Impossible.
By the end of the second hour, my suspicion was practically gnawing at me. I shut my book with a deliberate thump and leaned back.
"Okay. Talk."
The sound of the book snapping closed must’ve been the trigger, because she immediately burst into giggles, covering her mouth with her hand like she’d been them holding back the entire time.
I narrowed my eyes, but couldn’t stop the little laugh that slipped out of me anyway.
"Knew it," I muttered.
She tried to compose herself, but her shoulders were still shaking with the remnants of her laughter.
"So," I said, turning toward her with the kind of patience I didn’t actually feel, "what is it this time? What do you want?"
She leaned back in her chair like a queen settling into her throne. "Nothing really. I just wanted to see how long you’d go before you cracked."
I blinked. "...That’s it?"
She nodded, lips curving smugly.
I let out a breath, shook my head, and started to reopen my book. But of course, I barely made it halfway before her voice came again, all casual, like she hadn’t been waiting for this exact moment.
> "About... my birthday?"
I froze, then slowly turned my head toward her.
"I knew it," I muttered.
Her eyes went wide and innocent. "What? We did study for two straight hours, Kai. Two. And I didn’t interrupt. Not once." She lifted a finger as if she was listing her virtues. "I think that deserves something."
"That’s not how studying works," I deadpanned.
Her lips curled into a pout, her voice softening into that dangerous territory that made me weak. "But I’ve been a good girl..."
I stared. Too long. Way too long. My brain stalled somewhere between don’t fall for it
and she looks unfairly cute right now."You always do this," I said finally, groaning into my hand. "It’s not even fair."
"It’s not supposed to be," she replied sweetly, tilting her head, her pout still in full effect. "I’m your baby."
I stared again, groaned again, then threw my head back. "Fine. What about your birthday?"
Her grin could’ve lit up the whole room. But then, just as quickly, her expression softened, her voice lowering in a way that made me sit straighter.
> "I don’t want it to be grand anymore."
I blinked. "...What?"
She toyed with the edge of her notebook, eyes dropping for the first time. "I’ll talk to Marina about it," she said softly. "But I don’t... I don’t need something huge. Just you. Just the two of us."
I swallowed, searching her face. She wasn’t teasing this time. No smirk. No bratty gleam in her eye. Just... honesty.
"You sure?" I asked. "You’ve been talking about this birthday since..."
"Forever?" she finished for me, her lips tugging faintly upward. "Yeah. I know. I just—" she exhaled slowly "—I think I’d rather keep it simple. Just me and my husband. No noise. No crowd. No people I don’t care about."
Something in my chest tightened. "Val..."
Her gaze flicked up, meeting mine, steady and quiet. "You’ll do it with me, right? Just us?"
There was no universe where I could say no.
"Of course," I said, softer than I meant to.
The corners of her mouth lifted, small but genuine, the kind of smile that made the room feel lighter. "Thanks."
We sat in that warmth for a beat before she turned back to her book, acting like she hadn’t just knocked the wind out of me. I followed her lead, flipping my own book open again.
Peace lasted all of thirty seconds.
"But," she piped up suddenly, her tone swinging back to brat mode, "I still want a big cake."
"Oh my God," I groaned instantly, dragging a hand down my face.
She giggled, delighted, and before I could protest further, she leaned over, hugging me from the side, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek.
"You’re the best," she whispered against my skin before letting go like nothing happened, returning to her book as if she hadn’t just wrecked my focus all over again.
I stared. I couldn’t not. She looked... satisfied. Happy. The kind of happy that made my chest ache in the best way, the kind of happy I always wanted her to have.
And I realized, not for the first time, that I’d give her anything if it meant she kept smiling like that.
---
To be continued...