25.Neil in Walter house
Neil paced the living room, his sharp eyes scanning the empty corners. Her shoes weren’t by the door, her bag wasn’t on the couch, and the kitchen was silent. He checked the clock again—hospital hours were long over.
“Where the hell is she?” he muttered under his breath. His jaw clenched. A flicker of worry threaded through the annoyance building in his chest. She should’ve been home by now. Did something happen on the way?
He pulled his phone out, thumb hovering over her name, fighting the urge to type. No. Why should I? It’s not my job to check on her.
Before his stubbornness could win, the phone lit up.
Text from Eva:
“I’m staying back home for a day or two. I missed my family.”
Neil froze, staring at the message longer than necessary. His anger slipped away, replaced by something heavier. Relief, sure—but also something else he couldn’t quite name.
She cared enough to tell me…But I never-
His lips pressed into a thin line. That was the difference. She—sunshine and reckless honesty—was responsive, thoughtful enough to keep him in the loop. And him? He hesitated to even send a single text, kept secrets, locked everything inside.
For the first time, Neil admitted—quietly, to himself—that she had something he didn’t.
Something he might never have.
Neil’s thumb tightened around the phone. Relief lingered, but it was short-lived.
His mind replayed the afternoon at the Morris estate—Callum back, Cynthia smiling, his father satisfied. Then Ryle’s words, “But one person is missing. Eva.” The way the hall had gone quiet. The sharp weight of expectation pressing on him.
He had given his word. “I’ll bring her tomorrow.”
Now she was gone.
A muscle ticked along his jaw. She doesn’t even want to be here. And I promised them…
He sank into the couch, one hand running across his face. For a fleeting second, guilt gnawed at him—he never made things easy for her, not at home, not at the hospital. But then, like a spark, an idea formed.
If she won’t come back to me… I’ll go to her.
His machine-like brain started piecing together options. Excuses. Plans. He could show up at the Walter house, play it casual. Or better—convince her in his own way. Not ask. Bring.
The corner of his mouth tugged into the faintest smirk.
Dinner at the estate tomorrow wouldn’t just be Callum’s homecoming. It would be something else entirely.
---
The Walter dining table looked like a festival spread. Warm steam rose from the soup bowls , the golden bread stacked neatly, fried fish and crisped prawn perfectly placed,Ria even backed cookies—everything Eva grew up craving when the world outside got too heavy.
Eva sat, shoulders finally relaxed, her face glowing in the homely warmth. Granny kept piling her plate, while Grandpa poured her favorite soup, humming happily.
Across the table, Ria sulked dramatically, stabbing her food with her fork.
Ria: “Wow, so this is the treatment eva gets. Got it. Princess Eva gets a feast.”
Grandpa chuckled and tapped her head gently. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, little firecracker.”
Granny sighed, wistful.
Granny: “If only Neil had joined too… would’ve been nice to have him taste this.”
Eva’s fork paused midair. She pressed her lips together. “He might be—”
The sound of the front door creaking open cut her off.
Everyone turned.
There, framed in the doorway, stood Neil Morris.
Tall. Composed. His grey suit sharp against the warm hues of the Walter home.
He looked utterly out of place—like someone stepping out of a boardroom into a fairytale kitchen.
His hair was neatly styled, his jaw tense, but his eyes… they searched for her.
Eva froze. Her chest squeezed, anger mixing with surprise. What is he doing here?
Granny gasped, clasping her hands together. “Oh my goodness, Neil! You came!” Her face lit up as if the long-lost son-in-law had returned home from battle.
Grandpa stood, shaking his hand warmly. “What a pleasant surprise, son. Welcome, welcome. Please sit.”
Neil gave a small, polite nod, his expression unreadable, and stepped inside with deliberate calmness.
Neil: “I hope I’m not intruding. Thought… I should join.”
Granny beamed like it was the best news she’d heard in months. Grandpa guided him toward the table.
Ria’s eyes narrowed, suspicion dripping from her tone.
Ria: “Well, well. Mr. Tall, Dark and Mysterious decides to show up—wearing a suit in our humble home? What is this, a family dinner or a board meeting?”
Eva shot her sister a warning glance, cheeks warming, but Ria smirked knowingly. She wasn’t buying it.
Neil, unfazed, adjusted his cufflink, his gaze flickering once toward Eva, who refused to look at him. Her jaw was tight, her hands fidgeting with her fork.
Eva’s thoughts churned: Why is he here? He is not a person who really cares but… he just walks in? And everyone’s happy about it…
But Neil sat, perfectly collected, as if he belonged. And the mystery deepened—he hadn’t just come for dinner. Not really.
Neil: It's the first dinner with the family now so thought to be formal.
" Formal and Family? " Ria muttered rolling her eyes.
Eva who heard it just elbowed her to be quiet.
The table was alive with chatter, plates clinking as Granny proudly served her favorite dishes. The roasted fish, especially, had been cooked with extra love.
Granny beamed, spooning a generous helping onto Neil’s plate. “You must try this, Neil. Eva’s favorite dish.”
Neil’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he didn’t object. Instead, he lifted the spoon and took a bite, his face unreadable as always.
Eva, who had been stabbing at her rice just to avoid looking at him, noticed it. A flicker across his expression—subtle, controlled—but there. He swallowed quickly, then discreetly pushed the fish aside and reached for the soup.
Eva's eyes narrowed. Wait…?
A few minutes later, she caught the way his fingers brushed against his throat, his breathing just a touch uneven. And suddenly, she realized—oh god.
Eva leaned slightly toward him, lowering her voice so no one else would hear.
Eva: “Neil… are you allergic?”
He gave her a fleeting glance, calm but sharp, as if saying don’t. But his silence was answer enough.
Eva’s eyes widened. Anger forgotten, she quickly set down her fork.
Eva: “Why didn’t you say anything?!” she whispered harshly.
Neil shook his head almost imperceptibly, his lips forming a cool reply.
Neil: “It wasn’t necessary. I can handle it.”
Ria, ever the hawk, caught the hushed exchange.
Ria: “What’s going on? Why are you two whispering like high schoolers?”
Eva forced a smile and waved her off. “Nothing. Just reminding him to try Granny’s dessert.”
But under the table, she pressed a glass of water toward him, sliding it close to his hand without meeting his eyes. He accepted it quietly, brushing her fingers for the briefest second.
Granny, oblivious, continued happily, “See? He likes the food. I knew it!”
Eva muttered under her breath, “Likes it? He could’ve landed in the hospital, for sure. But what's with him Why is he acting all nice."
She noticed his jaw was still clenched and face turning red.
"Are you okay ?"
Neil heard. His lips curved faintly, the closest thing to a smile she’d seen since morning. He whispered back, low enough that only she caught it:
Neil: “Didn’t know you cared, Eva.”
Her cheeks heated instantly. She stabbed her fork again and hissed, “I don’t. I just don’t want Granny to panic if you collapse at the table.”
Ria squinted suspiciously at them. “You two are hiding something. I’ll figure it out.”
Grandpa laughed, missing the tension. “Ria, stop pestering them. Let them eat.”
Eva sat back, her heart pounding, still furious, but now tangled in something else—concern she hadn’t meant to show. And Neil? He returned to his food, composed as ever, though the faintest trace of amusement lingered in his eyes.
The living room was cozy, filled with the hum of after-dinner conversations. Neil sat beside Granny, polite and collected as always, while Eva leaned into Grandpa’s side, hugging him tightly like she was still his little girl.
Granny, with her gentle smile, patted Neil’s arm. “Now it’s time to sleep, kids… Neil looks tired. He must have had a busy day, all those surgeries.”
Eva’s jaw tensed. Surgeries? Her eyes flickered toward Neil, who sat there looking perfectly unbothered.
Her inner voice hissed like fire: Busy with surgeries?
Or busy with that mystery woman in your car, Mr. Morris?
Doing God knows what. Her lips curved into the faintest sarcastic smile, but she quickly looked away before anyone noticed.
Just then, Eva shifted subtly, her gaze catching Ria’s. A silent SOS passed between sisters. Ria’s brows arched, and Eva gave her the quickest little “save me” look.
Ria sprang up dramatically. “Actually, Granny… I was thinking! I wanna have a sleepover with Eve tonight. Like old times. I missed her.” She draped her arm over Eva’s shoulder with a grin, already halfway pulling her sister toward her room.
But Granny and Grandpa’s voices cut in unison, firm but kind:
“Ria.”
They exchanged a knowing glance before Grandpa spoke. “You’re not a child anymore.”
Granny nodded, her smile warm but unbending. “And neither is Eva. She’s married now. Married women don’t do ‘sleepovers’ with their sisters—they share a room with their husbands.”
Eva’s heart dropped. Oh no. No, no, no.
Ria’s jaw fell open. “What? Married or not, she’s still my sister—”
“Enough, Ria,” Granny said, her tone final but affectionate. “Your sister belongs with her husband now.”
Eva’s cheeks burned scarlet, her chest rising and falling too fast. Meanwhile, Neil simply stood adjusted his cufflinks, and gave that maddeningly calm smile that made everything worse.
Ria shot her sister a look—half apology, half you’re doomed—and sulked toward her room. “Fine, fine. Goodnight, married couple. Don’t do anything scandalous.”
“Ria!” Eva hissed, mortified.
But her grandparents were already retreating down the hall, calling warm goodnights over their shoulders.
And there she stood, frozen, trapped in the reality she’d been desperately trying to avoid. Married. Sharing a room. With him.
Neil rose to his full height, slipping his hands into his pockets, and glanced at her with that infuriating calm. “Shall we?”
Eva’s insides screamed. What the fuck…here comes the worst part.
Eva pushed the door open, and instantly the scent of lavender filled the air.It was her room. Her sanctuary.Her museum.
The bookshelves along the wall were crammed with colorful novels, some stacked sideways, others marked with sticky notes.
A sketchpad lay open on the desk, a half-drawn flower blooming across the page.
Fairy lights hung above the bed frame, glowing faintly like little stars.
And many plants that he never saw were present.
Her slippers were kicked messily under the dresser.The walls were be coloured baby pink which made him smile.
Neil paused at the threshold. His sharp, disciplined eyes swept across the space. This is her. All of her. It felt warm, chaotic, alive—so unlike the cold precision of the Morris estate, so unlike him.
Eva walked in quickly, cheeks flushing as she realized her fake husband was taking it all in. She plopped down on the edge of the bed, pretending to be unfazed, but her heart hammered.
Neil stepped inside slowly, his gaze resting on the open sketchpad. “You draw,” he said simply. Not a question, just a statement.
Eva, without looking at him, shrugged. “Everyone doodles.”
His eyes flicked to the shelf where half her favorite novels were dog-eared and underlined. “You read… a lot.”
“Enough of observing, Mr.Sherlock,” she muttered, hugging a pillow.
His lips twitched, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he loosened his tie, every movement neat, precise, in stark contrast to the cozy chaos around him. He looked oddly out of place, like a man in a sharp grey suit standing in the middle of a dream.
Eva noticed it too. She stuffed the pillow harder into her chest. Why does he look like he belongs everywhere but here?But why do I even care.
She hardly looked once in his eyes since his arrival.
Neil finally turned to her, his gaze quiet, steady. “Something’s wrong. You don’t usually ignore me like this.”
She shot him a look. “Maybe I should start.”
His brows furrowed at her sharpness. “You were fine yesterday.”
Her throat tightened. Yeah, yesterday before I saw you with another woman in your car. But the words stayed locked inside. Instead, she busied herself flipping through the sketchpad, ignoring him.
Neil’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t move closer. He simply folded his arms and leaned against the dresser, watching her with an unreadable expression.
“You don’t have to pretend, Eva,” he said finally, his voice lower now. “Not in your own room.”
Her fingers froze on the sketchpad. The weight of his words pressed against her chest. She quickly looked away, masking it with sarcasm. “Pretend? I’m fine.”
He hated that word. His eyes darkened, but instead of pushing, he sighed softly. He reached for a pillow and crossed to the little couch by the window.
“What are you doing?” she asked, more defensive than she meant to.
“Sleeping here,” he said simply. “Clearly, you don’t want me around you.”
Her stomach twisted at his calmness. She turned to the bookshelf, pretending to fuss with the novels just to hide the rush of emotion on her face.
“Absolutely,” she said quickly, masking the crack in her voice. “And honestly, I’m more worried about my cute lil pink couch. If you sleep the whole night there, it might break.”
Neil arched a brow, looking at the small, ridiculously girly couch beneath him. His lips tugged into the faintest smirk. “Are you… comparing me to your couch?”
“I’m comparing your weight to its limits,” she muttered, hugging a book to her chest like a shield.
He leaned back, folding his arms. “Don’t worry about your couch, Eva. I don’t break things that easily.”
Her eyes darted to him. “Cocky much?”
“Confident,” he corrected smoothly, tilting his head. Then his voice dropped just slightly, teasing, “But if you’re that worried about the couch… I can always take the bed.”
Eva spun toward him, horrified. “Excuse me? My bed.”
He stood, loosening his tie with deliberate slowness. “Well, you don’t want me on the couch, and I can’t exactly sleep on the floor. Unless you’d prefer me lying on that soft rug of yours—” he glanced at it with amusement—“which, by the way, wouldn’t last five minutes under me.”
Her cheeks burned. She hugged the pillow tighter. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re running out of options,” he said, voice deceptively calm, like he had already won.
Before she could argue, Neil walked to the bed, slipped off his watch, and lay down on her side like it was the most natural thing in the world. He looked annoyingly comfortable, stretching one arm beneath his head.
Eva gaped. “Are you serious right now?”
He closed his eyes, smirk tugging at his lips. “Very. Go to sleep, Eva.”
Muttering under her breath, she stomped to the other side of the bed, dramatically dragging her blanket with her. She curled herself at the very edge, so close she looked one small roll away from falling off.
Neil cracked an eye open, watching her cling to the corner like the bed was lava. His voice was low, amused. “You do realize there’s enough space for three people between us, right?”
She pulled the blanket tighter, refusing to face him. “Don’t talk to me.”
“Fine,” he murmured, closing his eyes again. A faint smile played on his lips. “But if you fall off the edge tonight, I’m not saving you.”
Eva squeezed her eyes shut, heart pounding despite her annoyance. Why does he always have to win?
But the truth was, despite everything, she didn’t move back to the center. And neither did he.
Eva’s body jerked mid-sleep, and before she knew it—thud! She hit the floor with a sharp yelp.
“Ahhh, ow—” she rubbed her elbow, half asleep, hair sticking out everywhere. Her face scrunched up in pain when suddenly—
“Seriously?” A deep voice cut through the silence.
She blinked, eyes adjusting to the dim room, and froze. Standing right in front of her, shirtless, was Neil Morris.
Her jaw dropped. She opened her mouth, instinctively ready to scream—
But he moved faster. In a flash, he crouched down, one hand covering her mouth. His eyes locked on hers, calm but sharp. “Don’t. Wake. The entire house,” he whispered firmly.
Her eyes widened at the closeness, at the warmth of his hand against her lips. The silence between them stretched, charged.
She muffled something against his palm.
She swatted his hand away, face burning.
" Who even—why are you shirtless?”
"It is hot in here I can't sleep in my suit.And the AC, why isn't it working Walter?"
Her cheeks heated even more when her gaze betrayed her and flicked over his chest—sculpted, defined, unfairly perfect.
She looked away instantly. “Ugh—put a shirt on!”
Before Neil could respond, Ria’s voice came from the hallway: “Eve forgot to tell… the actual AC isn’t working in your room! ”
Just then, Ria’s eyes fell on them, and she froze in shock at the scene. “Uh… I… I should’ve knocked—bye!” She spun around and practically sprinted out of the room, apologizing as she vanished down the hallway.
Eva scrambled to her feet, face flaming, hair sticking out in every direction. She shot Neil a glare that could burn steel. “Seriously, Neil Morris! This is your fault! How do you just sleep—shirtless—and act like nothing happened?”
Neil, casually leaning against the edge of the bed, arms crossed, gave her a lazy, amused smile. “What happened, exactly?”
Eva threw her hands up, muttering under her breath. “You—ugh, you! Bare chest, crouching on the floor, covering my mouth—how am I supposed to survive this level of absurdity?”
Neil tilted his head, clearly enjoying her chaos. “I was saving you, technically. From the floor. You’re welcome.”
Eva snapped, running a hand through her messy bun. Her T-shirt had ridden up a little as she flailed, and her shorts peeked beneath—it was the chaotic, casual Eva Neil had somehow fallen for.
He just watched, eyes darkening slightly with amusement, admiration, and something else Eva couldn’t quite name. He leaned just a fraction closer, letting the faint smell of his cologne drift toward her.
“Are you even listening?” she snapped, snapping her fingers right in front of his face.
Neil yawned softly, brushing imaginary lint off his suit jacket. “Nope. Good night.”
Eva blinked at him, stunned. “Excuse me? Good night? I just scolded a grown man for manners and you—”
He interrupted with a smirk, voice low and teasing: “You’re adorable when you’re mad. Try to remember that before flailing at me next time.”
Eva’s jaw tightened, cheeks heating again, as she muttered, “where is his Manners left in his apartment.”
Neil’s grin widened, a silent promise in it, as he finally moved toward the bed to lie down, leaving Eva fuming but secretly… a little flustered.
She shook her head, muttering to herself, “I can’t believe why I even agreed to marry this person…”