His Virgin Asisstant

Episode 2:

It wasn’t until she received the health examination report from the doctor that she fell silent, completely forgetting the suffocating sensation and nausea in her throat.

Walking out of the doctor’s office, she remained dazed, as if in a dream. But by the time she reached the hospital doors, she tore the paper in her hand, her face emotionless, and casually threw it into the trash can, treating it as if it were nothing more than a leaflet discarded on the street.

When she returned home, as expected, there was no one there. The house was quiet and still, mirroring her heart.

It was five in the afternoon. The sunset outside poured through the glass walls, illuminating the luxurious living room. Yet the warm colors couldn’t thaw her cold heart.

Seraphina didn’t dwell on anything. Like an emotionless robot, she went into the kitchen and made a pot of porridge.

Even if the road ahead was uncertain, she had to live. There was no self-pity or reckless impulsiveness in her actions.

“Mom, I’m home. I’m fine, just some stomach discomfort,” her voice rang softly in the kitchen. It was calm and serene, and compared to her expression, her tone carried just enough emotion to reassure the person on the other end of the line.

After eating half a bowl of plain porridge, she lost her appetite, rinsed her hands and face, then curled up on the living room sofa and drifted into a light sleep.

In the haze of her slumber, she sensed someone near her.

She wasn’t sure what time it was, her eyelids heavy, her rest uneasy. But as soon as a hand reached toward her, her eyes snapped open, and she knocked the hand away.

Her gaze met the man’s in the dim glow of the living room’s nightlight.

He was cold and indifferent, and so was she. Only her slightly dazed look from not being fully awake made her appear endearingly foolish—though whether the sole witness in the room noticed this was another matter.

Caleb glanced at the hand she had brushed away, his brow furrowing unconsciously.

But Seraphina didn’t look at his cold, tightening expression. She calmly sat up and spoke softly, “Your parents asked about you. Did you say anything to them?”

“There’s porridge in the kitchen. Eat if you’re hungry; if not, don’t bother,” she said without waiting for a response. After speaking, she stood up and walked past him with composure, heading toward the bedroom.

Caleb didn’t reply.

The lack of passion between them wasn’t new. Even though things had improved over the past year, it felt like they had reverted to the beginning.

As she rummaged through the closet for a blanket, she heard his footsteps enter the room. Without looking up or waiting for him to speak, she took the initiative.

“Do you still want this marriage?”

“If you don’t, we can get a divorce,” she said, as if discussing trivial matters. Her tone was steady, devoid of any fluctuations, and she didn’t look at him.

At that moment, she truly hoped he would be decisive.

She knew Caleb wasn’t someone who explained himself, though she didn’t understand him well enough to predict his inner thoughts. She didn’t need an explanation; she just wanted an answer.

When he coolly said, “No,” she felt no disappointment.

She simply replied earnestly, “If you ever want a divorce, just let me know. Don’t worry—I won’t demand anything from you or create drama with your parents. If you don’t want to explain things to them, we can keep it a secret.”

“But if you don’t want a divorce, then abide by the principles of marriage. I’ll act as though today never happened, and I don’t want to see it happen again.”

“Can you do that?”

She looked at him, her tone calm.

He stood at the doorway, watching her for a long time without saying a word.

She suddenly felt drained.

So, she didn’t wait for his response. After all, she wasn’t negotiating with him but simply informing him. She picked up the blanket, brushed past him, and headed for the guest room.

She didn’t see her decision to sleep separately as an act of pettiness. It was simply because the scent of another woman’s perfume on him made her uncomfortable. That was all.

She assumed he wouldn’t want to sleep beside her either. So, when she felt herself being embraced in the middle of the night, she was startled.

At first, she struggled, but the arms around her were strong, holding her tightly. She couldn’t break free. In truth, she wasn’t entirely resistant—no, she had grown numb, unwilling to feel anything toward him anymore. The perfume was gone, so after a while, she gave up, curling up in the blanket and letting him hold her.

Everything that should have happened between them had already happened. Over the years, there hadn’t been any major arguments—just a quiet coexistence. Now, it was as if nothing had happened. She didn’t want him to touch her, and at the same time, she couldn’t allow him to.

Fortunately, he didn’t do anything else, merely holding her in silence.

And so, the night passed.

What seemed like an eventful day ended in stillness.

At dawn, she woke up feeling hot.

At some point, the man had drawn close, his body pressed intimately against hers. Her face was buried in his chest, their limbs entwined.

For a moment, she almost believed that nothing had changed, that yesterday hadn’t happened.

But her rational mind quickly reminded her that this wasn’t their bedroom, and reality set in.

He was still asleep, his hold on her less tight, so she managed to quietly extricate herself. Standing by the bed, she looked at him for a moment, a self-mocking smile on her lips, before decisively leaving the room.

As she turned away, Caleb opened his eyes.

Watching her silent, retreating figure, no one could tell what he was thinking.

Later, Caleb carried on as usual, enjoying the breakfast Seraphina had prepared before heading to work. As he left, he still held her, kissed her, and said goodbye—his recently acquired habit over the past few months. Despite her stiff resistance and instinctive struggle, he firmly kept her in his embrace, completing the routine before nonchalantly leaving the house.

Seraphina stood by the door in a daze.

After a while, she shook her head, as if trying to shake off all the lingering frustrations from the previous day.

Yes, why should she care? As long as things stayed the same…

But could they really stay the same?

Seraphina had a daily ritual—working at the Ravenswood family’s bakery as a clerk, serving customers their orders. Though everyone knew she was the owner, she never flaunted it. She loved seeing the smiles of those enjoying the pastries and the scent of freshly baked goods, which brought her a quiet satisfaction.

Previously, Caleb would pick her up after work every day.

In her heart, she thought she’d give him a chance to prove he still wanted to preserve their marriage. So, she waited.

“Has Seraphina not gone home yet?”