His Invisible Wife

C H A P T E R 4 — silent gestures

Perfect idea 🌸 — a little issue will make the kitchen scene more alive, show Lina and Genie bonding, and also let Genie show more of her softness. I’ll weave it naturally into the cooking, something small like Genie messing up or accidentally causing a tiny problem, and Lina gently helping her through it while opening up more. Here’s the improved version of Chapter 4 – Small Gestures (continuous, with Lina + small issue included):

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Chapter 4 – Small Gestures

The mansion’s silence had become routine.

Jairus left before sunrise, returned long after nightfall, and passed Genie in the hallways as though she were made of air. He was a shadow she shared a roof with—always near, never truly there.

Still, she found herself… waiting.

That morning, Genie sat at the long dining table. The staff moved quickly, laying out a modest breakfast for her—warm bread, a plate of eggs, and tea that let out a faint curl of steam. Only one setting was placed before her.

She looked around, frowning slightly.

“Doesn’t… doesn’t Mr. Versales eat before he leaves?”

The nearest maid froze. Genie recognized her—Lina, the one with soft brown eyes, younger than the others and not as stiff. Lina hesitated before answering, her tone careful.

“The young master doesn’t like anyone fussing over him, ma’am. He usually skips.”

Genie’s brows knitted as she stirred her tea. “Skipping meals… that’s not good for him.”

Lina lowered her gaze, as if she wanted to agree but dared not. Genie let the matter drop, though it lingered in her mind long after she left the table.

---

By late morning, she found herself wandering through the wide corridors. The mansion was spotless, polished, yet so cold it echoed. Servants passed her quickly, bowing, but none lingered.

Her steps eventually carried her toward the kitchen. She stopped at the doorway, surprised to see how quickly the staff stiffened at her presence. Only Lina stepped forward.

“Madam… do you need something?”

Genie hesitated. Then, quietly, she asked, “Would it be all right… if I tried cooking?”

The room stilled. One of the older cooks glanced at Lina nervously, whispering under her breath, “The young master doesn’t allow anyone to meddle.”

But Lina’s voice was soft, steady. “I can help you, if you like.”

Genie’s lips curved faintly, relieved. “You won’t get in trouble?”

“I’ll say it was my doing,” Lina replied. “Besides… he won’t have to know, will he?”

---

And so they cooked.

Genie rolled up her sleeves awkwardly, her hands clumsy with the knife. The garlic stuck to her fingers, the rice sizzled unevenly, and she burned her tongue when she tried to taste the stew too early. Lina guided her gently, never once laughing.

“Smaller pieces, ma’am,” Lina instructed, demonstrating with swift, practiced cuts.

“Like this?” Genie tried again, concentrating.

“Yes,” Lina smiled. “That’s perfect.”

But halfway through, a small issue arose. Genie poured too much oil into the pan, and when she tried to stir the vegetables, the oil spat, splattering her wrist. She yelped softly, jerking back.

“Careful!” Lina rushed forward, grabbing a cloth and dabbing gently at Genie’s skin. “It’s hot—you can’t stand too close.”

Genie blinked at her, cheeks warming. “I… I wanted to do it right. But I just made a mess.”

Lina shook her head, her tone kind. “You’re trying. That already makes it right.” She glanced at the vegetables, then sighed with a faint smile. “Well… maybe a little less oil next time.”

Genie chuckled lightly, though her voice was soft. “Cooking isn’t easy. My mother never let me near the stove.” they never even let me step into the dining area, unless there's something important to discuss that involves 'sacrificing someone'. Genie shook her head and chose to keep it to herself

I shouldn't bother remembering all those things in the past, it's not worth it, present is more important...

Lina’s expression softened. “Mine didn’t either. But… after she passed, I had no choice but to learn. Mistakes were all I had at first. But see? They became skills.”

Genie smiled at Lina, the words hung in the air for a moment, warm and human in the coldness of the mansion. Genie looked at her maid differently then—not just as a servant, but as a girl with her own story, her own resilience.

“Then maybe,” Genie said gently, “we’ll both teach each other. You, with patience… and me, with stubbornness.”

Lina’s smile widened. “I think that could work.”

---

Hours passed slowly, but when they finally finished, a faint aroma filled the air—fried rice, eggs, and chicken stew. The presentation wasn’t perfect, but it felt warm, homely. Genie set it neatly on a plate, covering it with a lid.

“There,” she said softly, wiping her hands. “That will do.”

---

Afternoon sunlight slanted across the halls when Genie passed the kitchen again. The plate was gone. Only the lid remained, set aside.

Her breath caught. “He… ate it.”

Lina, who had lingered nearby, smiled warmly. “See, ma’am? You reached him.”

Genie pressed her hand against her chest, the faintest spark lighting within. “Then I’ll do it again tomorrow.”

The rest of the day passed gently. Genie returned to her room for a while, arranging her desk, then sitting by the window where the gardens stretched out, golden in the late sun. She didn’t sew or read—she only thought. Thought of him working tirelessly somewhere out there, too stubborn to eat unless food found its way to him.

By evening, she carried another tray toward the kitchen. Lina walked beside her, balancing the soup carefully.

“Madam,” Lina asked hesitantly, “why do you trouble yourself so much? He doesn’t make it easy for you.”

Genie slowed, her fingers tightening around the tray. “No one asks for kindness, Lina. Sometimes… you just give it.”

The maid lowered her gaze, smiling softly. “Then let me help you give it.”

Genie’s chest warmed at the words.

———

Later that night, Genie sat at her vanity. The lamp glowed dimly, casting soft light across the walls of her room. She glanced toward the west wing’s window, where faint light still burned. Jairus was awake, working as always.

Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Even if you never notice… at least I tried.”

Her fingers curled against her lap. The ache in her chest lingered, but it wasn’t so sharp anymore.

Because somehow, through these small gestures—and Lina’s quiet presence—the silence no longer felt as heavy.