Chapter 13:

Still, she didn’t press him. She had noticed how, little by little, he was opening up to her, letting her glimpse parts of himself he usually kept hidden. She would wait. Sooner or later, he’d tell her everything.

When the meal was ready, Jayden placed a plate of spaghetti in front of Elyse.

“The first bite is all yours,” he said.

Elyse raised an eyebrow, amused. “Where did you pick up this strange habit?”

“I read somewhere that offering the first bite shows a man’s love and respect for a woman.” Jayden grinned.

Elyse rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Do you really think giving me the first bite proves anything? Respect comes from the heart, not from meaningless gestures.”

Jayden faltered, clearly flustered. “It’s not just a gesture. I mean it—I respect you. I care about you.”

Elyse stared at him for a moment, realizing how clueless he was about showing affection. He had probably searched online for advice, fumbling through how to care for someone.

Her expression softened.

“I believe you,” she said, taking a bite.

The spaghetti was better than she had expected—delicious, even.

After savoring the bite, she pushed the plate back toward Jayden. “I still appreciate the effort.”

Jayden beamed; her compliment lit up his face. The quiet moment was interrupted when Driscoll, disheveled and half-awake, wandered into the kitchen.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “Sir, you must’ve been starving! Why didn’t you wake us?”

Jayden shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “You were all sleeping so peacefully. I didn’t want to disturb you.” He grinned, glancing at Elyse. “Besides, if I’d woken you, I wouldn’t have had her here to keep me company.”

Driscoll followed his gaze and smirked knowingly. It was their moment—one that belonged to just the two of them.

Exhausted from several consecutive workdays, Elyse finally relished her well-deserved break. She nestled into her favorite spot at home, a steaming cup of tea in hand, while mindlessly channel-surfing through variety shows. Her attention suddenly snapped into focus when Celeste’s familiar face appeared on the screen.

Though it was a niche music program, Celeste’s renowned presence had drawn substantial viewership. Despite it being Elyse’s first time watching a music show, she found herself oddly captivated and settled in to watch.

The atmosphere shifted when a contestant took the stage. His performance was notably lacking in both technical skill and artistic merit. To Elyse’s bewilderment, several judges showered him with undeserved praise. She scrutinized his performance, searching for any redeeming qualities but found none.

Her mind immediately jumped to the obvious conclusion—backstage connections must be at play.

Then Celeste’s distinctive voice cut through the artificial pleasantries. With razor-sharp precision, she dissected the contestant’s performance, her professional expertise evident in every word. . . .