Chapter 3

Vivian’s POV

Anger and disbelief from last night surged back. Why would he act like he didn’t care when he clearly wanted the same things I did?

For months, I had felt like I was forcing myself on him, chasing a man who barely tolerated me. The humiliation gnawed at me, relentless. Still, I had been the brave one, never thinking of giving up—until recently.

Who taught Ethan to be a husband like this? Why did he bury every desire and thought about us, locking them away where I couldn’t reach? Did he even know how close I had come to dragging him to the courthouse? Filing for divorce?

I sipped my coffee slowly and nibbled my toast, while Ethan had long finished his breakfast and now read the paper, seemingly waiting for me to finish so I could fix his tie—and give him that kiss.

His thoughts echoed in my head again: “Why is she even eating toast so cute? Like a little hamster with her cheeks all puffy.”

“This is the best part of the day. The other part would be lying next to her, drifting to sleep hearing her breathing.”

“Okay, she’s finished her coffee… which means in a minute or two she’ll fix my tie and stand on her tiptoes to kiss me. Those lips… Can I go for a French kiss this morning? I want to taste her.”

“Calm down, Ethan. Vivian doesn’t like clingy—just a peck is fine.”

“But… look at her lips!!! No, I want to taste them. Please, just pull her in and kiss her.”

I choked on my toast, coughing. Inner Ethan was… exceptionally forward.

“59… 58… 57…”

He counted down by seconds. When he hit one, I looked up. Our eyes met. His deep blue gaze pinned me, and a sudden thought flared in my mind—angry, punishing: if Ethan thought he could treat me this way and still get a bonus, he was wrong.

No morning kiss today. Maybe not in the future, either, if he kept playing this game.

If he wanted it, he had to ask like a normal man.

“Aren’t you late for work?” I blinked at him innocently.

“Oh… yes. I’m leaving now.” Ethan stood, but I caught something flicker in his eyes. Quietly, his thoughts whispered: “She forgot! She forgot about our morning kiss!”

He started toward the door, slow and deliberate, clearly waiting for me to “remember.”

Just as he reached it, I called, “Ethan?”

His eyes lit up like a boy in a candy shop. “Yes?”

“Next Sunday, we’re eating at our parents’ house. Just a reminder.” I called Ethan before he could step out the door. I knew I should probably take things slow now that I could hear his thoughts—and that he clearly struggled to express himself—but still, I wanted to push him, giving him a chance to mention the morning kiss himself.

I saw Ethan’s eyes flicker, dimming slightly at my words, yet still, he didn’t mention the kiss he wanted so badly.

I turned toward the stairs, stepping up.

“Vivian… didn’t you forget something?” Ethan finally spoke.

The perfect, cold Ethan had finally cracked. He couldn’t let our morning-kiss ritual die.

I turned, still faking innocence. “Something? What thing?”

Ethan’s cheeks flushed, his inner thoughts screaming: “Should I say it now? The morning kiss… Will it make me seem too needy?”

His hand went to his tie. “The morning ritual. Remember?”

“Oh, the tie,” I said casually, walking over. I stood on my tiptoes to fix it, letting my hands brush just a little closer than usual. I studied Ethan’s face, noticing the subtle tremor of his eyelashes.

Though he refused to show it, his thoughts were wild: “So close… Vivian’s skin, so soft… Had she never felt this before? And she isn’t even wearing makeup… Quick! Look away before she catches you staring like a desperate teenager!”

I deliberately took my time adjusting his tie.

After what felt like forever, I finally finished. I didn’t lean in for the kiss, nor did I step back—I just looked at Ethan. I could feel his heartbeat quicken.

I edged an inch closer. Inside his mind, a frantic chorus: “Go for the kiss, go for the kiss.”

Yet in reality, he didn’t move.

Just as I was close enough to touch him, I pulled back, landing on my heels. “There. The tie’s fixed.”

I met his eyes. “You really don’t have to wait for me just because I wanted a moment before you left for work. I get it—it would waste your time. If you don’t want it, we can stop the ritual.”

Ethan’s eyes widened. He struggled to keep his expression, but I could hear his inner panic: “No, not a waste of time! Say something, idiot! She’s cutting this ritual off! Where will I get my morning kiss then?”

“Just tell her she can’t change the ritual. I veto it, I don’t agree!”

“But… maybe this is what she wants now… Maybe Vivian doesn’t like me anymore… She doesn’t need me…”

I caught the faintest whine in his thoughts—almost like pouting.

“Ethan, for God’s sake, just say something! Remember what that master taught? Rule number one of being a perfect husband: listen to your wife and do whatever pleases her. So suck it up, you idiot. If Vivian says it’s over, take it like a man instead of pouting your lips here!”

“Alright.”

That was it? Alright—after all that mental wrestling, that was his answer?

I turned away, done teasing him. “Have a nice day then, Ethan.”

I headed upstairs, leaving him behind, but his thoughts didn’t stop.

“Was she happy or mad about me agreeing? Why do I feel like she’s more mad than happy?”

“Wait… did I get it wrong? Did she say that because she didn’t want me to agree?”

“Don’t worry. Just ask the Master later—he knows everything.”

With the click of the door, Ethan’s thoughts finally quieted in my head.

So far, I realized I could only hear Ethan when he was near.

That “master” he kept referencing—someone Ethan apparently consulted on how to behave in our marriage—kept popping up.

And honestly? That master sounded like a total phony. No normal person would advise him like that.

I wondered: was this master trying to sabotage our marriage… or secretly save it?

…

I spent the day handling some family business and skipped my usual visit to Ethan’s office at lunch.

He called once, and because we were apart, I couldn’t hear his thoughts—only the words he spoke over the phone. He tried to sound fine, but the disappointment in his voice was unmistakable.

I reminded myself not to soften. Ethan had to learn to say his feelings out loud, or I’d be the only one investing in our relationship—and that wasn’t fair.

After my shower, I stepped out to find Ethan sitting by the lamp, reading. Quiet and distant as always—but now, in the same room, I could hear him again. And his thoughts screamed something entirely different.