Ethan

Ethan found himself on the receiving end of his wife's intense gaze. Her determination was palpable, and he couldn't help but feel a mixture of admiration and amusement. Despite her petite stature, she projected an aura of fierceness that was undeniably convincing. It was almost comical how someone so small could exude such intensity.

He suppressed a chuckle as he considered the incongruity of the situation. If only she were a few inches taller, he might have found himself genuinely intimidated. As it stood, her attempt at intimidation seemed more endearing than menacing.

Draped in his oversized shirt, she looked almost like an angry kitten, all ferocity contained within a deceptively delicate exterior. The mental image brought a smile to his lips, and he quickly quelled it, mindful not to provoke her further. After all, he had no intention of jeopardizing their negotiations. The stakes were high, and he needed to ensure that the terms of their agreement were met.

As he met her gaze, he suppressed the smile that threatened to surface.

His father had taken a liking to her from the moment they met. The thought of revealing a divorce to him was out of the question; it could potentially shatter his fragile health. The doctor's explicit instructions to avoid causing his father any distress echoed in his mind. The notion of distressing his father was something Ethan couldn't bear to contemplate, even if it meant maintaining a façade that was increasingly complex.

As he watched Ruth move around in his oversized shirt, his thoughts momentarily shifted. He was about to ask her to change, not only because the situation was becoming challenging to ignore, but also because he realized he was dangerously close to staring. Despite his best efforts to remain composed, her presence in his shirt was a distraction he hadn't anticipated.

Before he could even form a coherent word, her fingers had gripped his collar, tugging him closer.

Ethan's brows furrowed in confusion as Ruth's sudden action caught him off guard. The proximity between them was unnerving, and a mix of curiosity and bewilderment played across his features.

"Wha—" he began, his voice trailing off as she pulled him in even closer, causing him to involuntarily lean down to align his eyes with hers. For a breathless moment, their gazes locked, her intense green eyes holding his captive. It was a gaze that seemed to pierce through the layers of his composure, unraveling the carefully maintained facade he usually wore.

The scent of fresh flowers enveloped him, a fragrance that seemed to linger in the air around her. He tried to resist the pull of her presence, to quell the urge to inhale the delicate scent that teased his senses. Yet, despite his efforts, he found himself drawn to the intoxicating aroma, unable to fully escape its allure.

His astonishment only deepened when she moved even closer, her breath grazing his face, and her soft lips brushing against his ear. He had not thought that his wife was this wild. What in the heavens is she trying to do?

Her words, when they came, were a whispered revelation that left him momentarily stunned.

"I think your mother is at the door, peeking at us," she murmured, her voice a hushed secret that seemed to dance along his skin. For a beat, his mind struggled to process her words, to understand the implications of what she was saying.

As the initial haze of confusion dissipated, Ruth's question cut through the moment. "Does she still not believe that you married a girl with no status like me?" Her words were tinged with a mix of curiosity and a hint of vulnerability, a glimpse into the complex emotions that lingered beneath her composed exterior.

Ethan's gaze shifted past her, drawn to the expansive windows that adorned the wall. There, he spotted the silhouette of his mother, and true enough, a quick glimpse revealed his mother's figure hovering near the doorway. Panic momentarily surged within him as he realized the potential consequences of their perceived closeness.

His mind briefly revisited the events that had led to this moment, the choice to share his apartment's password with Ruth. It was a choice that seemed unwise now, given the circumstances. He should have been more cautious, more attuned to the potential repercussions of his actions.

The memory of her asking for the passcode surfaced, and he acknowledged the oversight with a sense of resignation. Her emotions had been raw, her need for closeness evident, and in his own emotional turmoil, he had acquiesced without much thought.

Grabbing ruth's waist he hoisted her up, she yelped her hands going around my neck and her legs wrapping tightly around my waist. Ethan paused for a moment watching her. She was so soft.

His hands slid down to her hips, holding her firmly he adjusted her so that she would not fall.

"lets show her that she is wrong." he said carrying her towards my bedroom without turning around and confronting my mother, she needs to see this.

In a swift and unexpected move, Ethan's hands encircled Ruth's waist, lifting her effortlessly off the ground. A yelp of surprise escaped her lips, her instinctive response being to wrap her arms around his neck for support. Simultaneously, her legs found their way around his waist, holding on as he hoisted her up.

Ethan couldn't help but pause for a moment, his eyes locking onto her as she was suspended in his grasp. The sensation of her form against him was surprisingly soft, and the intimacy of the moment sent a subtle shiver through him. Her vulnerability was palpable, and in that instant, he felt a strange mixture of protectiveness and a connection that defied the artificial nature of their arrangement.

Gradually, his hands shifted from her waist to her hips, securing her in his hold and ensuring she was stable. Adjusting her position slightly, he held her with unwavering firmness, a sense of determination radiating from his gaze.

"Let's show her that she's wrong," he declared with a note of resolve, his voice low and determined. Carrying her towards his bedroom without looking back, he maintained his course, intent on making a statement that went beyond words. His mother needed to witness this, to comprehend the truth that lay beneath the façade they had woven.