Chapter 5 Did he just apologize?

I was peacefully lost in my novel world again—sinking deeper into a delicious mafia plot where the cold-hearted don just kidnapped the innocent baker’s daughter—when a knock sounded at the door.

I jolted upright.

Crap.

Without wasting a second, I slid the novel under my pillow, smoothed down my hair, and stood up. I took a deep breath, forcing my shoulders to slump ever so slightly and let my lips tremble as if I’d been crying for hours. It was time to play the pitiful Cinderella again.

I opened the door slowly, like someone who’d just been woken from a nap filled with tears and regret.

And there he was.

Adrian Blackwell.

My husband.

A man too handsome for his own good.

He stood there holding a tray with steaming food, looking like he just stepped out of a fashion ad, but for the first time… he didn’t look like a glacier.

He looked guilty.

Good.

I blinked up at him but quickly turned my face away, as if the sight of him wounded my soul. I made sure my lashes trembled just enough to look heartbreakingly sad. Silence stretched between us before he finally walked in.

“I… brought you dinner,” he said, voice a little rough.

I didn’t say anything. I just stood by the bed while he set the tray down on the little table nearby. He turned around, probably expecting me to thank him or smile like some grateful wife.

Nope.

“Don’t misunderstand what you saw downstairs,” he said carefully, like the words might break something between us.

Oh?

Seriously? What an idiot.

I gave a soft, mocking laugh—just enough to sting.

“Really?” I asked, lifting my gaze to his. “And what exactly did I see, Adrian? Because since I woke up this morning, you’ve spoken to me like I’m a stranger you can’t stand.”

His brows twitched.

I continued, letting the frustration in my chest leak into my words. “You’ve been cold… so cold I started wondering if we were enemies in another life. You barely look at me unless it’s to correct me or dismiss me. Then I go downstairs and see you smiling—smiling, Adrian—like some prince charming with your best friend hanging all over you like a clingy scarf.”

He didn’t say anything for a second. His lips parted, then closed again. I braced myself, expecting a cold remark or maybe even a yell.

But instead…

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Wait.

What?

I blinked.

Hold on. Did he just say that out loud?

“I was wrong to treat you like that,” Adrian continued. “You’ve lost your memory. You’re in a strange place, surrounded by people you don’t remember. I should’ve been more patient.”

I stared at him like he’d grown a second head. Was I hallucinating? Did I drown in the bathtub earlier and this was heaven?

Because there was no way this was real.

The cold, stoic, arrogant CEO was apologizing?

To me?

I watched him sit down beside the tray and gesture for me to join. I hesitated. I had planned to sulk through the night, not share dinner like some happy couple. But the curiosity was too strong. I walked over, still keeping my performance subtle—lips downturned, shoulders hunched.

He picked up the spoon and scooped up some porridge.

“Come on. You haven’t eaten all day.”

He didn’t wait for me to answer. Instead, he lifted the spoon gently to my lips.

I blinked at it.

“You’re feeding me now?” I asked, unable to stop the sarcasm from slipping out.

“You’re not strong yet,” he replied, ignoring my tone.

I rolled my eyes slightly but opened my mouth and let him feed me. The porridge was warm, comforting… and annoyingly delicious.

Spoon after spoon, he fed me in silence.

I peeked up at him a few times and caught him staring, but he looked away each time, clearly unsure of himself. It was… kind of cute.

Damn it.

“Did you… like the bookshelf?” he asked suddenly, nodding toward the wall where my treasure now stood.

I turned to look at it, allowing my face to soften just a bit.

“I did,” I admitted. “It has almost all my favorite novels. Even ones I haven’t read yet.”

“I called my assistant and told him to find every title with the words ‘CEO’, ‘Mafia’, or ‘Obsession’ in them,” he said, almost sheepishly.

I stared at him, blinking.

“You… really did that?”

He gave a small nod. “You mentioned them earlier. I figured it would make you happy.”

For a moment, I forgot to act. My smile was genuine.

And that scared me.

Because I wasn’t supposed to actually like this man.

He was cold. Distant. Dangerous, even. But then, he did this. Small things. Thoughtful things. The kind of things that made my heart twist in ways I didn’t want to understand.

I looked down at my lap, unsure of what to say.

He placed the empty bowl down and stood. I thought he’d leave, but instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bookmark.

“This came with one of the novels,” he said. “It’s golden. Thought you’d like it.”

He placed it on the bed beside me, and for a second, I stared at it like it was made of diamonds.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

He nodded and turned to leave.

But just before he stepped out, he paused.

“If you ever feel like talking… I’m here.”

I bit my bottom lip.

“I thought you didn’t like talking.”

“I don’t,” he said without turning. “But I think I’d make an exception for you.”

And with that, he walked

out, closing the door behind him.

I sat there for a long time, staring at the door.

That stupid flutter in my chest was back.

Dammit.