Chapter 20
That evening, Kinsley barely spoke a word to him.
Immediately after dinner, she retreated to the study, opened her laptop, and dove into her assignments. Aaron was in the study as well, ostensibly working, but his gaze kept drifting toward her of its own accord. She, however, never once looked up.
I have been wanting to ask her if she’d attend Ethan’s gala since the very moment she stepped through the door. Yet, I clutch my knife and fork until my knuckles turn white, the words dying in my throat every time I try to speak.
If she went, he would have to coach her on what to say. If she didn’t—well, Ethan would be all the more thrilled.
That look of absolute, unhesitating resolution in her eyes when she signed the nondisclosure agreement still stings. It made it painfully clear that she has drawn a firm line between us, and the “control” I once thought I held is long gone.
Even when she spoke to him or smiled at him afterward, he always felt it was vastly different from before. Kinsley had locked her heart away.
Aaron stared at his screen, unable to focus on his work. After a long while, Kinsley stretched and complained softly, “I’m exhausted. How can this homework be so difficult?”
“Are you done?” His tone was softer than he intended.
She didn’t glance at him, simply reaching for another file. “Finished. Now I need to go over the new script.”
Aaron’s gaze dimmed. He knew she was keeping her distance. Whether it was her smile or her words, everything felt like a carefully rehearsed performance. She would never be close to him again.
Kinsley studied the script with intense focus. She highlighted lines, scribbled notes, and occasionally mimicked the movements, rehearsing the scenes. It was just a low-budget web series, and she wasn’t a professional actress, yet she treated it with the gravity of a major production.
Aaron suddenly felt a pang of irony. He had used money and a contract to lock her in this house, yet he couldn’t make her show him a shred of genuine dependency.
He had once believed that as long as he held the money and the power, everything was under his control.
But now, for the first time, he felt utterly powerless.
A long time later, Kinsley finally set the script down. Aaron pondered for a moment before speaking. “There’s a dinner party tomorrow night. Would you be willing to attend?”
“A party?” For the first time all night, she finally looked at him.
He pushed the invitation across the desk. “If you don’t want to go, just say so. I won’t force you.”
Kinsley picked up the invitation. The intricate embossing and gold-leaf calligraphy made her pause; she had never seen such an exquisite card. She set it down, her smile calm and stubborn.
“Do you want me to go?”
Aaron offered a stiff, awkward smile. “Of course. You are my wife, after all.” But he immediately added, “It’s your decision.”
He knew exactly what Ethan’s intentions were with this party.
A wife who had appeared out of nowhere. Someone who didn’t belong in his world at all.
The risk was too high. He would rather she didn’t show up, to protect her from the prying eyes, yet he desperately wanted her to stand by his side, for everyone to see.
She watched him, as if she could see right through his inner conflict.
“I imagine when you asked me to sign that contract, you had already considered the possibility of such occasions, didn’t you?”
He didn’t answer.
“So, this is part of the job. Of course I have to go.”
Aaron felt a sharp, inward tug. Work again. He was starting to loathe how she reduced everything to a job. But he suppressed the irritation. After all, it was he who had demanded this of her from the start.
“I know what you’re worried about,” she continued. “You’re afraid the gossips will corner me and I’ll slip up. Don’t worry. I’ll find a way.”
She was smart, attentive, and understood his anxieties perfectly. And yet, her composure only made him feel a growing sense of losing control. She could move freely in and out of his personal space, yet she refused to give him a single chance to get closer. She wasn’t the same as before.
Kinsley grabbed a notebook and a pen, sitting up straight. “Now, my dear husband, in order to get to know you better and handle the public, I need to conduct an interview.”
Aaron nodded helplessly. “Fine. What do you want to ask?”
“First question: What is your favorite color, and what is your least favorite?”
Aaron tried to laugh, but the sound died in his chest. “I don’t have any.”
Kinsley raised an eyebrow, clearly incredulous, but she scribbled it down anyway.
“Second question: What do you like to do, and what do you hate doing?”
“None.” He paused, then added, “There is only what should be done, and what should not.”
Kinsley stopped writing and stared at him, her eyes filled with disbelief. Her lips twitched slightly. “Are you a robot? How can you have no preferences, no emotions?”
Aaron arched a brow, feeling a strange helplessness. No one had ever probed his privacy so brazenly, and certainly no one had ever dared to question him like this. But he felt no anger, nor any urge to push her away.
“I have… always been this way.” His voice sounded hollow.
“You were trained to be this way.” Her retort was swift, her voice growing colder.
A trace of bitterness appeared in his eyes. Kinsley hesitated. The flicker of pain in his eyes was more honest than any answer he could have given.
The air grew suffocatingly quiet. She suddenly realized she had dug too deep. His world was likely not one where such questions were ever asked. She lowered her head, the tip of her pen hovering over the paper for several seconds.
“Actually… it’s not that you don’t want to like things.” Her voice was softer now.
He looked up, and for a fleeting second, his gaze softened. Her heart tightened. In that moment, she wanted to say more, but her logic quickly took the upper hand. She smiled, making her tone lighter.
“Once you truly fall in love with someone, perhaps you’ll realize that people are capable of having preferences.”
Aaron gazed at her, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. The fissure that had been torn open in his heart moments ago was slowly knitting shut behind her smile.
She closed her notebook. “That’s all for today.”
The tone was so light, as if nothing had happened. She stood up and left the room. Aaron remained at his desk, his heart in disarray. Every time she got close, he realized, she was actually moving further away.