𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖎𝖆

⁰⁷. 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫

'' ᵃᵍᵃᶦⁿˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉᶦʳ ʷᶦˢʰᵉˢ, ᵗʰᵉᶦʳ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗˢ ʷᵃᵛᵉʳ ''

As though treading on eggshells, Yuri tip-toed around her husband for the rest of the week. She was so terrified of having made one too many mistakes already that she found herself unable to relax in his presence, paying close attention to her every word and praying that any task she completed was nothing short of perfection in his eyes.

She would materialize at his side whenever he stepped through the front door of the ice castle, be it while daylight prevailed or during the ungodly hours of the night. Her greeting would always be polite, tone as gentle as she could make it, head bowed in respect while helping him take off his jacket.

Once the jacket was hung up and every crease had been smoothed out, she would always gesture toward the kitchen and invite him to a meal. Breakfast, lunch, dinner—she would spend hours making sure that they were each prepared to Michelin star standards and served on time. If her husband was hungry, then she would lead him to the table and hold her breath, watching him through her lashes while waiting for the hum of approval that usually came after his first spoonful. Should he refuse to eat and excuse himself to his office upon his return, Yuri would see him off with a bow and then hide away in her bedroom until he called for her later on.

If Vincenzo had noticed her awkward behaviour, then he didn't call her out for it. He simply observed her during their brief moments in one another's company, taking mental notes of her responses to the things he said or did around her. Though still cautious of her, he wished to shorten the distance between them ever so slightly. Maybe if he tried to get to know her better, he would figure out her motives.

Her habit of falling asleep on the living room sofa was something that particularly interested him. Vincenzo soon began to notice a pattern—on the nights that he spent cooped up in his study, the honey-haired maiden would choose to curl up on the sofa downstairs instead of retiring to her room. On the few nights that he went straight to bed after work, he would not find her sleeping on the sofa in the mornings.

Intrigued by this pattern, he decided to ask her about it over coffee one morning.

Yuri set her buttered toast down, swallowed her mouthful, and timidly looked across the table at him. "Does it bother you when I sleep downstairs?" she asked, shifting in her seat nervously.