30. Is Neil Truthfull?
Back home.
Neil leaned against the doorway in entrance, his gaze trailing over her before he spoke.
“You look amazing today.”
Eva shot him a grin. “You look more bossy today. Any explanation for that?”
“Sure,” he replied easily, loosening his tie. “But first… I’m starving.”
She crossed her arms, pretending to think. “So that’s my cue to cook?”
“Exactly.”
“Fine,not because you asked it ,because I am in a good mood now.” she sighed dramatically, heading toward the kitchen.
He was already halfway to his room when her voice followed him.
“Hello? Where do you think you’re going? Help me!”
He turned, arching a brow. “I’ll at least go change.”
“Did I change? No, right? Then you don’t get to either. Come on.”
Neil paused, blinking at her audacity. Did she just order me?
He let out a breath — half a chuckle, half disbelief — then shrugged off his coat and rolled up his sleeves.
“Alright, Mrs. Morris,” he said, stepping into the kitchen beside her, “let’s see if we survive your cooking.”
"If you want a nice dinner then you have to listen to me." She stated.
"Okay,boss" he showed the thumbs up.
"Sounds sexy."
Eva placed a chopping board on the counter, lining up the vegetables neatly. She handed Neil a knife, and he raised a brow.
“You’re sure you want me to do this?” he asked, voice teasing.
“Yes, you’re my assistant,” she said firmly, not missing a beat. “And assistants listen to their boss.”
Neil smirked, picking up the olive oil bottle. “So I’m allowed to pour the olive oil only when commanded?”
“Yes. And carefully,don't chop your fingers dear surgeon.” she said, not looking up from her cooking pan.
"Now we need to add the olive oil."
He chuckled, but did as instructed, tilting the bottle slowly as she held out her hand. “Good, precise. Very proud of you, Mrs. Morris,” he said, mock-serious, making her narrow her eyes.
“Don’t start complimenting me,” she warned. “You’ll lose your place as assistant if you do.”
He raised his hands in surrender, though his smirk stayed. “Yes ma'am.Now you don't want compliments and later you will complain of not complimenting.”
She gave him a sharp glare, which just said shut the fuck up Neil!
As she moved to season the vegetables, he tried to sneak a sprinkle of salt — and she caught him.
“Neil! What did I say about following orders?” she scolded, pointing at him with a spoon.
“Following orders? But I thought I was allowed some creative freedom,” he teased, stepping closer.
Eva rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched. “Creativity is allowed only if it doesn’t ruin the dish.”
He leaned over to sniff the olive oil, whispering, “This smells… amazing. Just like its chef.”
Her eyes widened. “Uhh- hmm?”
“What? I’m just appreciating the food… and the chef,” he said innocently, though the glint in his eyes said otherwise.
Eva realized she was bossing him around,She is technically bossing her boss— and she loved it.
Eva: “Now it’s time for the fried chicken,” she announced, pulling the marinated pieces from the fridge.
Neil leaned casually against the counter, sleeves still rolled up, watching her move with quiet amusement. “My favorite.”
“Can you pass me the spice box.”
He tilted his head toward the top shelf. “That one?”
"Nope, Lemme get myself " she walked to the cupboard.
The spice box was way up — too high for her reach. She tiptoed, stretching her arm as much as she could, muttering under her breath, “Who keeps things at a height meant for giraffes?”
Neil didn’t move at first. He just stood there, arms straight on the counter, enjoying the view — her determination, the way her brows furrowed, the small grunt she made while trying.
Eva turned her head slightly, glaring. “You could help instead of staring, you know?”
He smiled faintly, finally stepping forward. “I was waiting for permission, Mrs. Morris.”
Before she could reply, he moved behind her — close enough for her to feel his breath ghost her hairline.
One hand brushed past hers, reaching up to the shelf.
Their arms grazed, and she froze for half a second.
His warmth, the faint cologne, the soft hum of his voice — everything around her just blurred.
He pulled the spice box down easily, holding it out in front of her eyes. “You were saying?”
She blinked up at him. “Thank you.”
“Sure,” he murmured, eyes glinting, “you were almost halfway there.”
Eva snatched the box from his hand, trying to mask the way her pulse picked up. “Go chop the spring onions before I throw this at you.”
“Yes, chef,” he said, lips twitching into a grin as he turned to obey — but not before whispering under his breath, “You really are something else.”
She pretended not to hear him, but the small, traitorous smile that crept on her lips.
The pan sizzled, the smell of garlic and olive oil filling the kitchen. She stirred quickly — maybe too quickly — because a drop of hot oil splashed up and hit her wrist.
“Ow!” she yelped, jerking her hand back.
Neil was beside her instantly — no hesitation, just instinct. “Let me see,” he said, taking her hand gently.
She can't ignore how warm her skin felt from the way how quick he reacted.
“It’s fine, just—”
“It’s not fine,” he said softly, running his thumb over the tiny red mark. His voice had that low, calm tone she’d only heard in the OR — except this time, it wasn’t clinical. It was… something else.
Eva tried to laugh it off, “See? Barely visible. You don’t have to—”
But he didn’t let go. His fingers still held her wrist, his touch steady, his eyes locked on hers.
And just like that, everything that had been playful a minute ago — the teasing, the banter, the kitchen chaos — fell quiet.
His thumb moved once — absently, like he didn’t even realize he was still touching her.
“Eva…” he said her name like it was a question and a confession all at once.
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
She just looked up — into those impossibly focused eyes — he looked… unsure.
For the first time in two months she saw it, the care in his warm hazel eyes.
For a second, the world went still. The soft sizzle of oil, the aroma of garlic, everything faded into the background. His eyes dropped to her lips before he caught himself, clearing his throat —
And that’s when the smell hit her.
Eva blinked, sniffed once, and gasped.
“Oh no— the chicken!”
She rushed to the stove, grabbing the pan with a yelp as smoke curled up. Neil stepped in, turning off the gas while she tried to salvage what was left.
He bit back a grin. “You were saying something about your cooking skills?”
She glared, cheeks flushed. “Not. A. Word.”
He smirked, sitting on the counter. “Guess Chef Eva just burnt her masterpiece.”
“We can just chop the brunt part, it's not that bad I guess,” she questioned, tossing the pan aside.
"Okay, until we don't die anything would be fine for me."
Dinner turned out surprisingly decent — smoky chicken aside. Eva watched him from across the table as he quietly ate everything she served without a single complaint. Not a word about the unevenly cut vegetables or the slightly burnt edges.
He just ate.
Like he meant it.
She didn’t know why, but it made her smile. For someone who lived his life surrounded by precision and perfection.
“So the reason for marrying me is to bring Callum out.” she said finally, breaking the silence.
Neil placed his fork down, his tone calm — too calm.
“Yeah,” he said after a beat, his eyes meeting hers. “It was the only way to settle the custody papers and... to make the family’s appeal look stable.”
Eva nodded slowly, trying to absorb his words. “So, I’m just— a part of the plan.”
His jaw tightened. “That’s not what I meant.”
“But that’s what it sounds like,” she whispered, trying to hold her expression steady.
Neil leaned back slightly, guilt flickering across his face. “I know how it sounds. I should’ve told you earlier. I just—” He stopped, searching for the right words. “I didn’t want to drag you into my family’s mess. But the situation... it left me no choice.”
Her voice softened. “And you thought marrying me would fix it?”
He looked away for a second, then back at her. “It wasn’t about fixing it. It was about saving Callum.”
A faint, bitter smile tugged at his lips. “But I didn’t realize how selfish I was to make the decisions.”
“But I didn’t realize it might break you in the process.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The clock ticked quietly in the background.
Eva finally exhaled. “You didn’t break me, Dr. Morris,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “You just surprised me.”
Neil leaned forward slightly, his voice lower now — almost thoughtful.
“But I’m sure about one thing,” he said.
Eva looked up, fork paused mid-air. “What?”
He held her gaze for a second too long. “You’ll witness it soon.”
Her brows drew together in confusion. “Neil…” she began, but he cut her off gently, his tone steady.
“I’ll be truthful in this marriage, Eva,” he said quietly. “I’ll try to make this… work — in the meantime, until our contract ends.”
Eva’s froze, her lips parted, as if to respond, but nothing came out. Her heart tugged at the sincerity in his words — so rare from him, so unexpected.
For a man who built walls taller than his mansion, that single sentence felt like a promise.
She lowered her eyes, a faint smile flickering — fragile, unsure.
“Truthful,” she repeated under her breath, almost as if testing the word.
When she looked up again, Neil was already back to eating — pretending nothing heavy had been said.
But the weight of his words lingered in the quiet, longer than either of them expected.
Eva toyed with her fork, pretending to focus on her food while her mind replayed his words.
Neil noticed. The slight furrow of her brow, the way she avoided his eyes — it tugged at something in him he couldn’t quite name.
He cleared his throat softly, setting down his glass. “About tomorrow’s surgery…”
Eva blinked, a little startled by the sudden shift in tone.
He leaned back, his voice slipping easily into that familiar professional steadiness. “There’s a bypass scheduled at 8 a.m. — a tricky one. Patient’s history shows mild arrhythmia, so we’ll need to monitor closely during induction.”
Eva nodded, grateful for the change of subject, even if her pulse still hadn’t settled. “Got it. I’ll make sure the pre-op checklist is ready.”
Neil smirked faintly. “Good. Try not to burn anything before that.”
She glared at him playfully, a small laugh escaping before she could stop it. The tension cracked, light filling the space again.
And as she watched him go back to eating, Eva realized — he might not say much, but in his own quiet, awkward way… Neil Morris always knew how to steady the room.
---
Eva finished drying her hands on the towel and leaned against the counter, watching Neil at the sink.
His sleeves were folded to his elbows, the muscles in his forearms flexing slightly as he scrubbed the dishes.
The warm kitchen light caught on the water droplets running down his hands — and for some reason, it looked… beautiful.
She smiled unconsciously — something about the sight felt… oddly comforting. He looked so out of place in that kitchen, the man who terrified residents at the hospital was now standing at the sink rinsing plates.
Quietly, she walked toward him, barefoot on the tiled floor, the faint rustle of her dress the only sound.
He hadn’t noticed her approach. She stood just behind him, close enough to smell the faint hint of his cologne — clean, sharp, and utterly him.
Without realizing, she leaned in slightly, her lips near his ear, and whispered softly, “Good night, Dr. Morris—”
Neil flinched at the sudden sound, turning instinctively.
She hadn’t expected it — neither of them had — and in that single movement, they collided. Her hands shot up to steady herself, fingers brushing his chest as her lips met his.
It was barely a kiss — a soft, startled brush, so light it almost didn’t happen — but it sent a spark through both of them.
Eva gasped, stumbling back, but Neil’s reflexes were quicker. His hands shot out, catching her by the waist before she could lose her balance.
For a heartbeat, they just stared — her hands clutching his shirt, his grip steady around her waist, their faces still too close.
Her breath hitched. “I—”
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, voice low and rough, “I wasn’t ready for that.”
Eva’s eyes widened; she stepped back abruptly, her cheeks flushing pink. Neil blinked once, slowly, still holding her gaze — his jaw tensed, eyes unreadable, like he was trying to process what just happened.
“I just wanted to say good night,” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.
“Yeah,” he said, drying his hands and walking past her, voice low with amusement. “Best good night I’ve ever had.”
Her jaw dropped.
He only chuckled, opening the bedroom door. “Sleep well, Mrs. Morris. And next time, warn before kissing your husband goodnight.”
Eva gawked, words failing her completely. “It was an accident!”
He winked before disappearing inside. “Sure it was.”
She stood there for a full minute, heartbeat racing, face burning.
Then she ran into her room shutting the door close.
“Oh my God, Did I just kissed him.”