Chapter 4

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of the Blackwood mansion, casting golden streaks across the marble kitchen counters. Maya stood at the stove, her hands moving with practiced precision as she prepared breakfast. The scent of fresh coffee mingled with the aroma of pancakes. Alexander's favorite.

Her hands trembled slightly as she plated the food, and she gripped the counter to steady herself. The fatigue was getting worse. But she'd become an expert at hiding it.

"You're up early."

Maya turned to find Alexander in the doorway, already dressed in one of his perfectly tailored suits. His dark hair was still damp from the shower, and despite everything, her heart still skipped at the sight of him.

"I made breakfast," she said, gesturing to the table she'd set. "I thought we could eat together before you leave for work."

Alexander's eyes narrowed slightly. "I usually just grab coffee and eat at work."

"I know." Maya pulled out a chair. "But we agreed to live as a real married couple for this month. Real couples eat breakfast together."

For a moment, she thought he would refuse. Then, with a resigned sigh, he sat down.

They ate in silence at first, the clink of silverware against china the only sound in the vast kitchen. Maya pushed her food around her plate, her appetite nonexistent, but forced herself to take small bites.

"This is good," Alexander said finally, and Maya's head snapped up in surprise.

"Thank you."

Alexander then stood. "I have meetings all day. I'll be home late."

"How late?"

He paused, his hand on the back of his chair. "Does it matter?"

"It does if we're supposed to be a real couple." Maya stood as well, moving closer to him. "Real husbands tell their wives when they'll be home."

"Seven," Alexander said curtly. "Maybe eight."

"I'll have dinner waiting."

He left without another word, but Maya caught the confusion in his eyes as he walked away.

The hours passed slowly. Maya threw herself into the role of dutiful wife with a desperation that surprised even her. She coordinated with the household staff, approved menus, and confirmed details for the upcoming charity gala. Eleanor Blackwood's demands were as extensive as ever, but Maya handled them with her usual grace.

At three o'clock, she felt the first wave of dizziness hit. She was in the upstairs hallway, reviewing seating charts, when the world tilted sideways. Maya grabbed the wall, breathing deeply until the sensation passed.

This was happening more frequently now. The doctor had warned her it would, as her condition progressed.

At six o'clock, Maya went downstairs to oversee dinner preparations. The cook had prepared Alexander's favorite meal. Pan-seared salmon with roasted vegetables and a wine reduction. Maya added her own touches, arranging everything perfectly on the dining room table.

Seven o'clock came and went. Then eight.

Dizziness hit her as she went to pee. She gripped the edge of the bed, waiting for it to pass, but the vertigo only intensified. Her vision blurred, and a wave of nausea rolled through her.

She needed to get to the bathroom. Needed to—

The world went black.

When Maya opened her eyes, she was staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. White tiles. Fluorescent lights. The steady beep of a heart monitor filled her ears.

Hospital.

"She's awake." A nurse appeared in her field of vision, checking her vitals. "Mrs. Blackwood, can you hear me?"

Maya tried to speak, but her throat was dry. She nodded instead.

"You collapsed at home. Your husband brought you in. You've been unconscious for about three hours."

Husband. Alexander.

As if summoned by the thought, he appeared at her bedside. His hair was disheveled, his tie loosened, and there were shadows under his eyes that Maya had never seen before. He looked worried.

Actually worried.

"Maya." His voice was rough. "What happened?"

The nurse discreetly left them alone. Maya struggled to sit up, and Alexander's hand shot out to steady her.

"I'm fine," Maya said automatically.

"You're not fine. You collapsed. You were unconscious for three hours." Alexander's gray eyes searched her face. "The doctors want to run tests. They think it might be—"

"Anemia," Maya interrupted quickly. "And exhaustion. I haven't been taking care of myself properly."

It wasn't entirely a lie. The cancer had caused severe anemia. But it was far from the whole truth.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "Why didn't you tell me something was wrong?"

"I didn't want to bother you," she said.

"Bother me?" Alexander's voice rose slightly. "Maya, you're my wife. If you're sick—"

"For fifteen more days," Maya reminded him gently. "I'm your wife for fifteen more days. Then I'm nothing."

Something flickered across Alexander's face. Pain, maybe. Or guilt. He looked away.

"The doctors want to keep you overnight for observation," he said finally. "I'll stay with you."

"You don't have to—"

"I'm staying." His tone left no room for argument.

The next day, the doctors confirmed her cover story. Severe anemia and exhaustion. They prescribed iron supplements and rest then discharged her.

Alexander drove her home in silence.

That evening, for the first time since their arrangement began, Alexander came home early.

Maya was in the living room, curled up on the sofa with a book, when she heard his key in the lock. She looked up in surprise as he appeared in the doorway, holding bags of takeout.

"I brought dinner," he said, almost awkwardly. "Thai food.”

After dinner, they sat together on the sofa. Maya was acutely aware of his proximity, of the heat radiating from his body just inches from hers.

Alexander's hand found hers in the space between them. His fingers were warm, strong, and for a moment they just sat there, holding hands like teenagers on a first date.

Then he leaned in and kissed her, cupping her breasts as he did so.

It wasn't their first kiss. They'd exchanged the obligatory kiss at their wedding, and a few perfunctory pecks over the years for the sake of appearances. But this was different. This was slow, deliberate, filled with a hesitant tenderness that made Maya's chest ache.

When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with something that looked almost like desire.

"Let's go upstairs."

Maya gasped. It had been so long since he had desired her body.

"Yes," Maya breathed.

They went upstairs together, to the master bedroom, their hands unable to leave each other bodies. He closed the door behind them, and for the first time in their marriage, Maya Blackwood spent the night in her husband's bed.

The next morning, Maya lay wrapped in Alexander's arms, listening to his steady breathing. She traced the contours of his face with her eyes, feeling like she had been run over by a truck.

This was what she'd wanted. This brief window of being loved, or something close to it.

Even if it was all about to fall apart.

“Good morning babe,” she said as Alexander opened his eyes.