Husband

Eryx frowned as the pain started hitting his head. The long and exhausting business trip finally caught up with him. He needed rest. His suite here was the perfect place for that, away from the noise, away from any distractions.

Don't ask why he didn't go back home. His mother, Regina Grantham, had been a pain in the ass. She had been pushing him to the limit. He was threatened as always but he already survived for two years so he was sure he could push through for more years coming. Wife? Marriage's life? Why would he go through that if his life was perfect as it was, no commitments, no burdens.

He made his way to the door, ready to finally kick back and escape the world for a while. That's when he heard the soft shuffle of footsteps. A woman rushed down the hall, her heels sinking into the plush carpet, the soft thud of each step barely audible.

Eryx frowned but didn't flinch. He didn't care. He wasn't in the mood for anyone, especially not someone who couldn't keep their balance.

But then, she came too close, her body swaying like she was drunk.

Eryx didn't even think twice. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist just as she almost collided with him.

"Watch where you're going," he snapped, irritated.

The woman froze, her eyes locking with his. Gulping, her lips parted. "Help… me."

His eyes narrowed, annoyance thickening his voice. "Ask the hotel staff."

He released her wrist, his grip just a bit too harsh.

Immediately, he turned and walked toward his suite, but before he could reach the door, a loud thud reached his ears.

"What the—"

He rushed back to the woman, now crumpled on the floor. Her forehead was reddened, a bruise already starting to form, probably from slamming into the wall.

"Help me…" Her voice was weak, barely above a whisper, her lips trembling as she spoke. "Someone…" She slowly turned her head to the right, as if looking for someone to escape from. "I…"

She gulped, her breathing shallow, but then her eyes fluttered. The words died on her lips.

Suddenly, her body went limp, collapsing on the carpet, leaving only silence in the hall.

"Aish... shit…" Eryx mumbled under his breath. This was the last thing he needed—getting into trouble with a woman.

He stood over her, glaring down, frustration raising inside him. His gaze sharpened as he took in her pale face, her disheveled hair, and the way she lay there helplessly. "Why does she look familiar?"

He couldn't place it. It nagged at him, like a memory just out of reach. But damn it, he didn't have time for this.

With a deep sigh, he crouched down, his eyes scanning her for any sign of movement. The sooner he dealt with this, the sooner he could get back to his plans for the night.

Taking out his phone from his pocket, he dialed a number. "Callum, get a doctor to my room, right now."

"What's wrong, sir? Should I bring your pills along?" Callum's voice came through, sounding a bit worried. He was used to Eryx's late-night issues, usually with sleep, so he just assumed it was another case of that.

Eryx's voice went flat. "How much was your bonus at the end of last year?"

Callum blinked, taken aback by the question. It didn't take long to connect the dots. "Right away, sir!" he blurted out, his voice almost a squeak.

There was a loud click as Callum hung up, practically tripping over himself to get things moving.

Eryx didn't waste any time. With a grunt, he scooped her up effortlessly, her limp body feeling light in his arms. She wasn't heavy, but the whole situation felt unnecessarily complicated.

He carried her into the suite, eyes flicking around as if the universe had personally decided to mess with him today. Reaching the bed, he laid her down carefully, not that he was overly concerned about her comfort. He just didn't feel like dealing with an awkwardly positioned body.

"Perfect," he muttered under his breath, looking down at her. "Just the kind of mess I needed."

But something about her still bugged him. Her face—it was too familiar. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was there, like a nagging memory.

He shook it off, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

Turning, he grabbed a bottle of water from the minibar. "Let's see what kind of trouble you've gotten yourself into, sweetheart."

Five minutes passed, and just as Eryx was about to sit down and take a breather, the doorbell rang.

He glanced at the woman on the bed, still unconscious, and raised an eyebrow.

"That was fast for the doctor," he muttered, confused.

He walked to the door, mentally preparing himself for another interruption. He yanked it open without hesitation, only to freeze when he saw the woman standing in front of him.

A woman he never thought he'd see again.

His eyes widened in disbelief. "What the hell are you doing here?"

There she was—his first love, Seraphine, the one who had abandoned him two years ago without a word, without any explanation. The last time he saw her, she had walked away from everything, leaving him with nothing but bitter memories.

She stood there, looking as if she hadn't aged a day, her eyes filled with the same quiet confidence that once drew him in.

"Can we talk?" she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eryx's gaze narrowed, his grip tightening on the doorframe. "Talk?" He snickered, the sound dark and dismissive. "I'm busy."

Without a second thought, he made to shut the door, but before it could close, Seraphine's hand shot out, blocking the door with a soft thud that echoed through the suite.

Eryx froze for a moment, his irritation spiking. "What the hell are you doing?" he growled, his eyes flashing.

Seraphine flinched, wincing slightly as the door pressed against her hand. But she didn't pull away. Instead, she stood there, unyielding. "Please, just five minutes."

Eryx's expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. He was about to respond when, out of nowhere, a soft voice broke through the tension.

"Husband..."

Before he could react, a figure appeared from behind him, her arms wrapping around his waist from the back, pulling him close.

Eryx's eyes widened in surprise as Lunara's voice followed, a weak yet clear tone carrying a quiet request. "I'm thirsty."