Ruby sighed, stepping closer to him. "Thank you, Milo. I mean it. The food was delicious. Next time, just tell me you’re cooking, and I’ll make sure to compliment you properly, okay?"
Milo looked up at her, his pout fading into a shy smile. "You really liked it?"
"I did," Ruby said with a small nod.
Milo’s mood shifted instantly, his eyes lighting up with happiness. "Okay! Next time, I’ll cook something even better!"
Ruby chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Looking forward to it," she said before turning and heading back to her room, leaving Milo grinning behind her.
Milo couldn’t hide his grin as he practically skipped into the living room, where Julian was sweeping. His energy was contagious, and the joy in his voice was unmistakable.
"Julian! Julian! Do you know? Wife complimented me for the food I made!" Milo beamed, his chest puffing out with pride, his honey-brown eyes sparkling with excitement.
Julian froze mid-sweep, his hands gripping the broom tightly. He turned his head slowly, looking at Milo, his expression unreadable at first.
"She complimented you?" Julian asked, his voice calm, though there was something strange in his tone.
"Yes!" Milo nodded enthusiastically, his excitement spilling over. "And she said it was delicious! She actually said it, Julian!"
Julian’s grip on the broom tightened as his jaw clenched. He swept at an invisible speck of dust on the floor with more force than necessary, his thoughts racing. He made food every single day—breakfast, lunch, and dinner—and not once had wife ever said a word about it. No compliments, no appreciation, not even a passing remark. And yet, Milo gets one day in the kitchen, and she’s singing his praises?
A strange, tight feeling settled in Julian’s chest, an uncomfortable mix of jealousy and hurt. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Milo to be happy, but hearing about Ruby’s compliment felt like a punch to his gut.
"That’s... nice," Julian said after a pause, his voice carefully neutral, though the stiffness in his posture gave him away.
"Right?" Milo continued, oblivious to Julian’s internal turmoil. "She said she really liked it! I think I’ll start cooking more often now. Maybe I’ll make her favorite next time–oh, wait, I don’t know much about her favorite food yet! Her taste seems to have changed recently."
Julian forced a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "That’s great, Milo," he said, his voice a little tight. "I’m glad she liked it."
Milo tilted his head, noticing the lack of enthusiasm in Julian’s tone. "Julian? Are you okay?"
Julian straightened up, placing the broom against the wall. "I’m fine," he said quickly, brushing past Milo. "Just remembered I need to check on something in the kitchen."
As he walked away, Julian let out a quiet sigh, his thoughts a storm of emotions. Maybe Wife didn’t notice the effort he put into his cooking because he never sought her approval. Maybe she didn’t care. But Milo’s happiness was a reminder of what Julian wanted deep down—a connection with his wife, something as simple as a compliment that made all the hard work feel worth it.
For now, though, he kept his feelings to himself, sweeping them under the rug like the dust he was cleaning.
However, suddenly, Julian heard the bell ring from outside.
He frowned, wondering who it could be at this time. He stood up and walked toward the door, noticing Milo had already opened it. Milo’s expression was confused, his gaze fixed on something or someone outside.
"What’s wrong?" Julian asked, but before Milo could answer, his face shifted to one of unease.
"You forget about us, Julian?" The familiar voice called out.
Julian stiffened at the sound. His heart skipped a beat, and the room seemed to shrink around him. His breath caught in his throat, and a sinking feeling washed over him as he recognized the voice. It was a voice he had hoped to never hear again.
"Who—?" Julian began to ask, but his words faltered. He didn’t need to hear more. He knew exactly who it was. The past he had tried so hard to leave behind was standing at his doorstep once more.
Milo, still looking uneasy and Julian’s stomach tightened with dread.
Julian felt his heart drop as he recognized Levi and his aunt standing at the door. He froze, his breath catching in his throat as memories of his past life at home came rushing back. The bitterness, the shame, the cruelty, it all came flooding back in an instant, and his face grew pale.
Levi stood there with a smirk, as if nothing had ever happened between them. His aunt, with her calculating eyes and greedy smile, was already eyeing the layout of the house as if it were her own.
"Hmm... You bought a house and didn’t even call us... Tsk, but we don’t mind," his aunt Grace said, her voice full of confidence. She looked around the room, her eyes taking in every corner as if she was already deciding what she could take.
Levi, standing beside her, surveyed the place with a similar, dismissive expression. "Hmm... This house is big, and yeah, Julian, I remember you used to sleep in the kitchen... So, you really won’t mind, right?"
The words hit Julian like a slap in the face, and his body tensed. He wanted to say something, to defend himself, to tell them that this was his life now, that they couldn’t just waltz in and take over. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak, not with the memories of the abuse and neglect still so fresh in his mind.
His aunt’s voice broke the silence again, sharper now. "Well? Don’t just stand there, let us in. This place is nice, but it could use a little... rearranging, don’t you think?"
Julian swallowed hard, his fingers trembling at his sides. He felt cornered, suffocated, and for a moment, he wished he could just disappear. He had left that life behind, but they had found him again.
—To be continued...🪄