6

After the wedding ceremony at the hotel, Isabella finally returned home with her husband, Maximilian Martez.

According to her earlier agreement with Aunt Martez, they would be staying at Isabella’s house for a while after the wedding. It was partly for practical reasons—her mother’s health wasn’t great—and Aunt Martez had promised that Max wouldn’t mind the arrangement. Still, Isabella couldn’t help feeling nervous about it.

The house was quiet when they arrived. Most of the family members had already gone to bed after the long day. The faint scent of flowers from the ceremony still lingered on Isabella’s hair and skin.

She slipped away to the small bathroom at the back of the house to wash off the layers of makeup and the sticky feeling of sweat from the celebration. She didn’t use the one in her bedroom—Max was in there at the moment.

Once she was done, Isabella changed into her favorite pajamas and wrapped a white towel around her damp hair.

It wasn’t exactly normal to shower and wash her hair in the middle of the night, but what could she do? The thought of going to bed feeling sticky made her uncomfortable.

She walked toward her bedroom and turned the doorknob. The door looked closed but wasn’t locked. The moment she stepped inside, Isabella froze—Max had just come out of the bathroom, shirtless.

Her eyes widened at the sight of his broad shoulders and the firm lines of muscle across his chest and abdomen. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. Then, flustered, she quickly turned around, refusing to look at him again.

Max frowned at the woman who had barged in without knocking.

“Next time, knock before you come in,” he said sharply. “You really don’t have any manners.”

He kept grumbling under his breath as he grabbed a clean shirt from the closet and slipped it on. Isabella ignored him and walked over to her vanity table in the corner of the room.

Sitting on the small stool, she began drying her hair with the towel before running a comb through her long, silky strands. Every now and then, her eyes flicked to the mirror, catching a glimpse of her husband lying down on the bed behind her.

Even after her hair was dry, Isabella didn’t move from her seat. She just sat there, staring blankly at her reflection until she yawned, her eyes watery with exhaustion.

'God, I’m so tired… and sleepy… but—' she murmured to herself, glancing at the mirror where she could see Max already asleep.

'How am I supposed to share a bed with him? Or should I—'

Startled by her own thoughts, Isabella quickly stood, hung her damp towel on a hanger, and walked toward the door. But the moment she opened it, someone was already standing there.

“Aunt—”

“Mom, not Aunt,” Anna corrected gently with a smile, touching Isabella’s chin affectionately. “You’re my daughter-in-law now.”

“R-right… Mom.” The new title still felt strange on Isabella’s tongue.

“Where’s Max, sweetheart? And where are you going?” Anna asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“He’s already asleep, Mom. I was just going to check on my mother—to see if she’s taken her medicine yet,” Isabella lied quickly.

“Don’t worry about her. I already helped her take it. Now, go on and sleep,” Anna said, lightly pushing Isabella back into the room.

Anna pulled the blanket up to Isabella’s chest, tucking her in like a child. Isabella could only blink, unsure how to react.

“Sleep well, dear. Your husband’s already asleep. Good night.” Anna kissed her forehead before quietly leaving the room.

Isabella sighed softly and glanced nervously at Max’s sleeping figure. The thought of sharing a bed with a man—her husband—made her so tense she couldn’t relax.

She kept shifting positions, trying to find a comfortable spot, but every small movement made the mattress ripple. It didn’t take long before Max stirred.

“Can you stop moving?” he snapped, his voice low but sharp. “You’re making it impossible to sleep.”

Isabella froze, her heart pounding.

“S-sorry. I’m just not used to… sharing a bed with someone,” she whispered timidly.

“That’s your problem, not mine,” Max muttered. “Go to sleep. And if you can’t stop moving, then sleep on the floor instead of disturbing me.”

He turned his back to her and shut his eyes again.

"He talks like this room belongs to him," Isabella grumbled under her breath, glaring at his back.

“What did you just say?” Max’s voice cut through the darkness.

“N-nothing,” Isabella squeaked.

“Good. If I hear you again, I’ll make sure you sleep on the floor,” he warned without turning around.

Swallowing hard, Isabella pulled the blanket over her head and forced her eyes shut. She even held her breath at times, afraid he’d hear her. It was ridiculous—but somehow, it worked.

---

The next morning, both newlyweds were still fast asleep. After yesterday’s long hotel ceremony, they were completely drained.

When sunlight spilled through the window, Isabella blinked awake and covered her eyes from the glare. Turning her head, she saw Max still asleep beside her and quietly got out of bed.

Downstairs, the house was quiet—her mother and mother-in-law must still be resting. As usual, Isabella began preparing breakfast, adding extra portions now that there were more people in the family.

“Isabella, you’re already up, sweetheart,” a warm voice said behind her.

Startled, Isabella turned to see her mother, Adeline, and Anna standing there with kind smiles.

“Good morning, Moms,” Isabella greeted softly.

“My daughter-in-law is such a hardworking girl,” Anna said proudly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Isabella smiled shyly in return.

“Where’s your husband?” Adeline asked.

“He’s still asleep, Mom,” Isabella said, plating the freshly cooked dishes.

“Go wake him up, dear. I’ll finish up here,” Adeline said, taking the spatula from her daughter’s hand.

“But, Mom—”

“Go on, sweetheart,” Adeline said firmly, her tone gentle but unyielding.

“…All right, Mom.”

Isabella untied her apron and walked upstairs.

Her heart pounded faster as she entered the room. Max was still fast asleep, his face calm and distant. She hesitated, clasping her hands nervously before inching closer to the bed.

“Mr. Maximilian Martez… please wake up. It’s already late,” she said softly.

When there was no response, she frowned. “Why won’t he wake up?” she muttered under her breath.

“Mr. Maximilian! Sir, please wake up—your mother’s waiting for you downstairs!” she raised her voice slightly, frustration creeping in.

“Ugh, so noisy!” Max’s deep voice rumbled, startling her. “I can wake up on my own without you yelling in my ear.”

Isabella puffed her cheeks in annoyance. “If you could, you’d already be up by now,” she grumbled softly, pouting as she turned away.

Isabella walked over to the wardrobe and opened it. Inside, Max’s clothes were neatly arranged—carefully organized by Mama Anna before their wedding ceremony.

She picked out a neatly folded navy-blue shirt and grabbed a pair of matching pants for her husband. In her left hand, she was already holding a clean towel.

Just as she was about to set them on the bed, Max got up and walked toward her. Without a word, he snatched the towel from her hand—roughly enough to make her flinch.

Isabella could only stare at him, shaking her head helplessly. She placed the folded shirt and pants on the bed, then turned toward the door, planning to head back downstairs to the kitchen.

“Wait.”

Max’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“What is it now, sir?” Isabella asked flatly, not bothering to turn around.

“I really don’t like being called that,” Max said, his tone firm. “Call me Max.”

Isabella didn’t answer. She simply continued walking out of the room, leaving her husband standing there with a faint scowl forming on his face.