Caesar’s expression clouded over, his unsaid words heavy in the air.
Just as he looked ready to respond, a knock came at the door. “Ms. Reeves, your luxury cake is here. Please confirm the receipt.”
Caesar’s gaze drifted to the label: Eighth Anniversary.
His reaction, a brief, unsettled look, betrayed him.
"Zelia… today is our anniversary? And you didn’t remind me?"
A faint smile flickered on my lips as I accepted the cake in silence.
I had intended to part ways with civility, but seeing his indifferent surprise now made that feel pointless.
I turned to dispose of it, only for his hand to reach out, stopping me gently. “Don’t. Let’s enjoy it together.”
Reluctantly, I took a seat across from him as he struck a match, lighting a single candle that danced with a flicker of warmth.
His gaze softened, almost as if in some nostalgic reverie. "Zelia, let’s put these misunderstandings to rest. After all, a wife should trust her husband and not meddle too deeply in his affairs."
His solemn yet helpless words stirred a bitter laugh within me. Perhaps, after all these years, it was my fault for letting him feel so entitled.