Author's Preface
At dinnertime, Julian heated some of the ready meals from the refrigerator. It was undeniably nice living in a house without needing to think about cooking or cleaning, barely even catching a glimpse of the housekeeper. The place stayed spotless and fresh meals were delivered daily, yet Valerie still managed to keep a chaotic sleep and meal schedule.
He knocked on her office door, calling her out to eat, and they sat down in silence.
Valerie was deep in thought, calculating strategies in case the quality control inspectors uncovered issues in the subsidiary’s food production line. If the news reached the chairman, he’d spin it into a massive scandal—assuming he hadn't planted something malicious already. He would undoubtedly seize the opportunity to push for the acquisition she had been fighting so hard against, eagerly framing the shift to automation as a modern safety upgrade to "appease customer concerns." It was classic political theater: positioning himself as the vigilant guardian of the company's reputation while quietly pocketing the benefits on top of phasing out the human workforce.
As if his stunt breaching the security of her secretariat office wasn't enough. Remembering the toned-down warning Julian had given her, she smirked. He wasn't as naive as he pretended to be; he might even have had his own hidden motives for accepting the marriage.
Valerie looked up at him, froze, and set her fork down. "Are you okay?"
She stood up abruptly, reaching across the table for his face.
Julian sat dumbfounded, looking up into her worried gaze as her fingers touched his cheek. Noticing his frozen state, she thrust a tissue into his hand. "You're still eating—spit it out! Can you breathe? Get up, we're going to the hospital. No, I should call an ambulance—"
Julian spat the food into the tissue, completely in the dark about what was happening. As she reached frantically for her phone, he caught her wrist. "What's wrong? I'm fine. Why are you freaking out?"
Valerie snatched her phone back, opened the camera app, and turned the screen toward him. "Look at yourself. I think you're having an allergic reaction."
She had just been worrying about the company's food production line, only to watch basic allergy safety thrown to the wind in her own home. The meals were prepared by the chef at the family estate where her grandmother lived and delivered by the housekeeper. If a handpicked staff couldn't keep their employer safe, what could she expect from thousands of factory workers?
No, she corrected herself. I’m panicking. I need to focus on making sure he’s safe first.
"I'll fetch the emergency kit," she said quickly. "You need an antihistamine before your airway starts closing."
She rushed off, leaving him staring at his reflection on the phone. He was wearing a low V-neck shirt, and alarming red patches were creeping up his chest, neck, and face. He had felt itchy earlier, but assumed his new shirt was the culprit and planned to change after dinner. There shouldn't have been any lavender in the food; he had explicitly informed Lukas of his allergy. The housekeeper had even reassured him the next day that all cleaning supplies were screened for his safety.
Valerie returned and practically shoved a pill into his mouth. She didn't know much about severe allergies, but she vividly remembered a former employee being wheeled into an ambulance on a gurney. If Julian started struggling to breathe now... how far away was the nearest hospital?
Julian swallowed the pill with a sip of water and gently stopped her hand before she could dial for the emergencies . "It's just hives. If it were the food, my tongue would be swollen and my throat would already be closing."
His mind raced. The new jar of face cream he’d used after his shower flashed in his memory. He had used the same one before, but maybe the formula was altered. Rolling up his sleeves, he saw his arms -where he hadn't used the cream- were completely clear.
Sighing in relief at finding the source of the allergen, he explained it to Valerie. She immediately marched him toward the guest room to shower. When he tried to lock the bathroom door behind him, she blocked it. After a brief staring contest, he yields.
While he showered, Valerie called one of the family estate's doctors to learn more about managing the reaction.
Once off the phone, she asked Julian's permission through the door to enter his bedroom. Spotting the face cream on his nightstand, she noticed a "New Formula" note printed on the side—disguised seamlessly among the product's marketing claims. She tossed it in the trash and cracked the window for airflow, even though he wouldn't be sleeping there tonight.
After washing her hands thoroughly, she opened his closet to pick out pajamas. Brows furrowed, she carefully opened a drawer to select his undergarments.
A short while later, Julian sat on the living room couch in a bathrobe, pressing an ice compress to his face. The itchiness had subsided a little, though his face- where the cream had been applied generously—was screaming to be scratched .
Valerie set the clean clothes on the couch. As he gave her a questioning look, she rummaged through the emergency kit. "Don't step back into your room tonight. I'll have the house thoroughly deep-cleaned in the morning. Sleep in the guest room, and keep this beside you." She handed him an epinephrine auto-injector.
Secretly thrilled by how deeply she was worried about him, he nodded and went to change. Inside the guest room, he found the pair of underwear neatly folded inside the pajama set and chuckled to himself.
When he emerged, Valerie was sitting on the couch, intently reading the antihistamine insert. He slouched down beside her, exaggerating his exhaustion.
"It feels nice to be taken care of by my wife," he said, offering a pitiful look with sleepy, watery eyes. "Last time this happened, it was so severe I had to plunge the needle into my own thigh. My roommate of three years didn't react half as fast as you did. Thanks, Val, for saving my humble life."
Valerie caught her breath at his smooth words, vulnerable expression, and teasing tone. Remembering the doctor’s warning that reactions could flare up overnight, the words slipped out:
"How about I sleep with you tonight?"
Julian’s pitiful expression instantly melted away. His relaxed posture stiffened, and he could barely force out the words. "I... I'm afraid that is well past both our comfort zones currently ."
He was both taken aback and deeply touched. Seeing her push past her own boundaries just to keep him safe sparked a quiet warmth in his chest. It felt incredible to finally have someone worry about him so genuinely, but he wasn't about to let her sacrifice her own comfort for his sake.
Realizing she had spoken her thoughts and how they could land, Valerie smoothly adjusted her posture. "On the couch in the guest room, to clarify. It’s spacious enough, just in case your condition worsens."
"You'll wake up with a sore back and ruin your sleep," Julian insisted hurriedly, trying to convince her to stay put. "I'm fine now, I promise. I'll call you if anything feels off."
He retreated toward the guest room as if running for his life, wished her a quick goodnight, and stepped inside.
"Keep the door unlocked!" Valerie called after him. He didn't turn the deadbolt, leaving her with only the soft sound of the door pulling shut.
Valerie leaned her head back against the couch cushion and closed her eyes. As the silence settled, a haunting image resurfaced: a stiff frail body on a hospital bed, the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor, the hiss of an oxygen machine right beside her ear. She remembered the lump in her throat, her hot, haggard breath fogging the glass, and the tiny footsteps approaching, forcing her to look away.
She snapped her eyes open. The overhead lights hit her with a sudden, dazzling glare—bursting into her sight just like the flames had that night.
Two decades of hearing her voice constantly, and I can't even recall how it sounded. Only that scream still rings in my ears.
With a slow, heavy sigh, she stood up. She tidied the dining table and turned off the lights before silently heading up to her room.
Julian exhaled in relief as the living room lights went dark—she had actually gone up to sleep rather than staying up longer to work. He tossed from side to side before finally pulling off his shirt to spare his irritated, reddened skin from the friction.
He shifted uncomfortably in his sleep throughout the night, restless and bothered by the unfamiliar bed. Late into the early hours, he turned onto his right side, only to jolt wide awake.
Standing right beside his bed was a silent figure, illuminated only by a faint, dim light.