2. Gabby’s Life More Intresting Now

The morning breeze swept gently across the wide lawn. Gabby lounged in a rattan chair, her long legs stretched out lazily, the thin silk peignoir fluttering with the wind. In her hand, a piece of toast was almost finished, while the glass of orange juice on the table beside her was already half-empty. Her expression was relaxed, almost too relaxed for someone who was about to face a busy day.

The sliding glass door opened with a soft click. Adryan appeared, his tall frame filling the doorway. He walked steadily, each step deliberate, his expression composed—too composed, as if he had erased every trace of the temper that had almost erupted in the dining room minutes ago.

Gabby lifted her gaze, watching him with the kind of casual amusement that often drove him crazy. “Here? Aren’t you worried about missing your meeting?” she teased lightly, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Adryan stopped right in front of her, both hands tucked neatly into his trouser pockets. His eyes were sharp, piercing, as if searching for something hidden beneath her calm demeanor.

“You’ve changed,” he said finally. His voice was flat, but the weight behind it carried a demand.

Gabby arched an eyebrow and leaned back further in her chair. “Changed? You mean… prettier? Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Gabriella,” Adryan said again, his tone dropping an octave, firm and warning.

Gabby sighed dramatically. “Oh my God, chill, Adryan. You sound like a debt collector. Should I hide my jewelry?” She bit into the tip of her toast playfully.

In a swift movement, Adryan leaned forward, bracing both hands on the back of her chair so that their faces were only inches apart. His nearness was overwhelming, his breath brushing her skin. “I’m serious,” he said, voice low.

Gabby’s heartbeat jumped for a second, but she quickly masked it with another smirk. “If you’re serious, sit down. Don’t hover like you’re about to… do push-ups on top of me.”

With an exhale that sounded like surrender, Adryan pulled back and sat across from her. His gaze remained fixed on her, tracing her features with the intensity of a man who refused to lose control. His eyes lingered for a split second on the faint line of cleavage visible through her peignoir, before he forced himself to look away. His jaw tightened.

“You’re not the Gabriella I knew,” he said again, this time more like an accusation than an observation.

Gabby swirled the juice in her glass lazily. “How well did you really know me, though? We barely talked before. You were always busy, I was always busy.”

“That’s not an excuse for—” Adryan cut himself off, his eyes narrowing. “For dressing like that in front of the staff.”

Gabby let out a soft laugh, light and mocking. “Seriously? Just a piece of thin fabric and suddenly your ears burn? Adryan, they’ve seen worse on TV dramas. Trust me, they’ll survive.”

“This isn’t a drama, Gabriella. This is my house,” Adryan said through gritted teeth.

“Our house,” Gabby corrected smoothly, eyes glinting with defiance. “Unless you only see me as a tenant here? Should I start paying rent then?”

Adryan’s breath hissed out sharply. “Are you trying to cause trouble?”

Gabby widened her eyes innocently. “Trouble? No. I’m just on a croissant hunt. Have you seen any around?”

Adryan pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration clear. His inner thoughts raged: Is this really Gabriella changing, or is she just trying to provoke me? Why does her fake casualness make me feel… something I shouldn’t? Stop. Don’t get hooked.

Gabby stood, picking up her juice. “Relax, Adryan. I won’t embarrass you. As long as…” she paused, flashing a mischievous smile, “…you don’t disappoint me either.”

She walked past him slowly, the faint scent of her perfume trailing behind. But before she could take another step, Adryan’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist with a firm hold. His palm was hot, sending an electric shock up her arm. He tugged lightly, just enough to draw her closer until her back nearly touched his chest.

“What game are you playing, Gabby?” His voice was dangerously soft, his lips near her ear.

Gabby tilted her head slightly, meeting his gaze over her shoulder. “It’s not about the fabric, Adryan. It’s about image, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Adryan answered without hesitation. “Image.”

Gabby sighed, exasperated yet playful. “Image, image… God, isn’t it exhausting? Living your whole life just to look good in front of people? I just want to have breakfast, wear what I like, live comfortably. Is that so wrong?” Her eyes held his firmly, no longer teasing, but serious.

For a moment, Adryan was struck silent. No arguments came to him. He realized, with some bitter taste, that Gabby had won this round.

Gabby smiled faintly and slipped her wrist from his grasp. She left without another word, her perfume lingering stubbornly in the air.

Adryan sat back, rubbing his temple, staring blankly at the garden outside. Why does she feel so different? Why does she keep calling me Adryan instead of Ryan, like she used to?

For the first time in their five years of marriage, Adryan felt… genuinely confused.

---

Warm steam filled the marble bathroom. Gabby leaned back in the wide tub, eyes closed, a smile playing on her lips. Soap bubbles floated lazily on the surface of the water. On the side table, another glass of orange juice sparkled under the light.

“Ahh… life is good,” she whispered, stretching her legs and watching her reflection ripple on the water. “Why didn’t I just relax like this all along?”

Since waking up that morning, her mind had felt strangely… blank. She remembered being twenty. College days. Trips with friends. Dreams of working abroad. But nothing beyond that. Nothing about this mansion. Nothing about being married to Adryan. Nothing about politics.

Amnesia? she wondered briefly, then shrugged. “Maybe that’s a blessing.”

Every time she tried to think of her parents, her chest tightened, her heartbeat stumbling strangely. She brushed the thought away.

Her parents had been gone for twelve years, killed in a tragic accident. Since then, she had been raised by her uncle and aunt—the HLM Media family, owners of the country’s most powerful media empire. They had controlled her like a puppet, forced her to maintain appearances, punished her whenever she slipped.

But Gabby now? Gabby felt like she was twenty again. A girl who only wanted to enjoy life.

She chuckled. “Well, if I have a rich husband now… why not take advantage a little?”

The clock ticked toward 9:40 a.m.—only eighty minutes before the grand event. Yet Gabby didn’t look worried at all. She was humming softly, like a student on a day off, not a thirty-year-old politician’s wife who was expected to be flawless before the cameras.

The sharp sound of shoes echoed outside. Then came the knock—loud, firm.

“Gabriella!” Adryan’s voice rang. “Don’t tell me you’re still—”

The door opened. Adryan stood there in a gray suit, every line sharp, his face carved from marble.

Gabby turned slowly in the tub, foam dripping from her hands. She smiled faintly. “Hello, Husband.”

Adryan’s chest rose and fell heavily. “Hello? We have an important event in an hour and you’re still soaking in here?”

“I need to relax before facing a crowd,” Gabby said simply, blowing a handful of bubbles. “Besides, stress makes me look old on camera. You want an old-looking wife?”

Adryan pinched his eyes shut, restraining himself. “This isn’t a gala you can stroll into fashionably late. This is a government event—ministers, journalists, cameras everywhere!”

Gabby arched her brow. “So what? I’m the politician's wife. The cameras will focus on you  anyway. Not me.”

His jaw clenched. “God, why did I ever agree to marry you?”

Gabby tilted her head, mock thinking. “Because I’m beautiful?”

His answer cut like ice. “Because your parents own the biggest media empire in the country.”

For a second, Gabby’s smile faltered. But she quickly replaced it with a laugh. “Wow, you’re a poet, Adryan.”

She rose from the tub, foam cascading down her skin. Adryan turned his face away instantly, muttering curses under his breath.

“Ten minutes, Gabby. If you’re not ready, I’m leaving.”

---

At 10:15, Gabby sat before her vanity, hair still damp. She wore the same thin peignoir, casually applying lipstick. Her day dress hung on a hanger nearby, elegant and pristine.

“Why rush? Someone like me is always the star,” she murmured at her reflection.

From outside, Adryan’s voice thundered again. “Gabby! The car’s ready!”

“Okayy!” she sang back lightly.

Ten minutes passed. Still no Gabby. Adryan stormed back in without knocking.

“Gabby, you’re still—” He froze, eyes widening at the sight of her with damp hair framing her face, silk clinging to her form.

Gabby blinked innocently. “What? I’m getting ready.”

“This isn’t getting ready!” Adryan snapped, grabbing the hair dryer. “Sit.”

Gabby gaped as he plugged it in. “Wait—you’re going to—”

“If I wait for you, we’ll leave tomorrow,” he muttered.

The dryer hummed to life, hot air blowing through her hair. His hands were firm but surprisingly gentle, combing through strands with care. The closeness was unnerving, the warmth of his cologne wrapping around her.

Gabby smirked at their reflection. “Hmm. You know… if you didn’t keep scolding me, you could actually look sweet.”

Adryan glanced briefly, then quickly looked away. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?” Gabby asked, voice dripping innocence.

Minutes later, her hair was dry, bouncy, perfect. Adryan set the dryer down. “Done. Now get dressed. Five minutes.”

Gabby laughed softly. “You’d make a great hairstylist.”

He ignored her, but his eyes lingered.

Soon, Gabby slipped into her pastel dress. The short sleeves, A-line cut, and small socialite hat transformed her into elegance incarnate.

When she stepped out, Adryan waited. His eyes softened, though his face stayed rigid.

“Nice,” he murmured.

Gabby beamed. “Of course. I never fail.”

---

The car glided through the city toward Heritage Hotel. Outside, banners of the National Digital Education Program flapped, journalists crowding for photos.

Inside the car, silence reigned. Adryan drove, his navy tie perfect, his profile sharp. Gabby sat beside him, her satin dress hugging her curves, the faint scent of rose perfume filling the cabin.

Finally, Gabby broke the silence. “Adryan…”

He glanced briefly.

“Are you gonna lectures this time?” she teased.

“Just choosing my topic,” he muttered. “But it seems you’re ready.”

Gabby smirked. “Wow.”

He quickly turned his eyes back to the road, but not before she caught the way he had looked at her.

Gabby leaned back, voice light but tinged with challenge. “Adryan, if I embarrass you later… will you divorce me?”

He studied her briefly, face unreadable. “Don’t even try, Gabby,” he replied coldly.

Gabby chuckled softly, staring at the passing city lights. “I’m not doing anything. You’re just too easy to rile up.”

And with that, Gabby knew—her life was about to get a whole lot more interesting.