His Invisible Wife

C H A P T E R 7 — whitemoonlight (2)

That Afternoon

Jairus sat at his desk, a fortress of contracts spread before him. The sharp scratch of his pen against paper echoed in the vast, cold office.

“Sir,” the assistant entered quietly, placing the lunchbox on the edge of the desk. “From Madam.”

Jairus’s pen stilled. His gaze slid to the box, its careful wrapping and neatly tied bow. For the briefest moment, his expression wavered, but it hardened just as quickly.

“Leave it,” he said flatly.

The assistant hesitated. “Sir, it’s from—”

“I said leave it.” His voice was sharp, final.

The room fell silent. The assistant bowed, lips pressed thin. He knew too well the weight of that box, the trembling hands that had tied that ribbon. But saying anything now would be useless.

Just then, Jairus’s phone rang. He answered briskly—until the voice on the other end spoke.

“Sir, there’s confirmation. Miss Elara… she’ll be returning to the country. Her plane lands in three days.”

The world seemed to pause. For the first time in years, the impenetrable mask on Jairus’s face softened. His pen rolled forgotten against the desk. A shadow of warmth flickered in his dark eyes.

“…I see.” His voice was low, almost unsteady. “Make the arrangements.”

When the line went dead, Jairus leaned back in his chair, gaze distant, memories flooding in.

Elara.

The girl who had appeared so suddenly in his life, as though fate had placed her there. It had been after the accident—the one that stole his parents in a single night. The crash left him hollow, an orphan left to the cold mercies of relatives who barely tolerated him.

His grandparents were cordial enough, but their warmth had always been reserved for his cousins—their real heirs. Jairus was the “extra,” the quiet shadow at the table. If he wanted recognition, he had to earn it. And he did. He clawed his way through sleepless nights, burning ambition into his veins until he rose above them all. A self-made billionaire. But the cost had been steep—loneliness, exhaustion, a heart frozen over.

It was during those hollow, aching days that Elara appeared. With gentle smiles, soft words, and an uncanny ability to know when he was at his breaking point.

“You’re too harsh on yourself, Jairus. No one sees how much you’re hurting inside… but I do.”

Back then, those words had been a lifeline. To a young man drowning in grief and neglect, she had seemed like the only one who truly saw him.

And so, Jairus believed her. Believed she cared. Believed she was the only warmth in his barren world.

What he never noticed—what he refused to see—was how suspicious her timing had been. How she appeared just as he inherited his parents’ assets. How her eyes gleamed faintly when his family’s wealth was mentioned.

The assistant clenched his fists at his side. He had seen the truth—how Elara’s kindness was laced with manipulation, how she played the fragile victim in front of Jairus while tormenting the staff behind his back. A white lotus, delicate on the surface, venomous beneath.

But no one dared speak. No one dared strip away the illusion. Jairus trusted her too much. If anyone shattered that belief, they would be cast aside without a second thought.

And so they endured.

Now, as Jairus sat with softened eyes at the mere mention of her return, the assistant’s chest grew heavy.

On the desk, Genie’s lunchbox sat untouched. Inside it was a meal made with trembling hands and true devotion. Real care. Real love.

But Jairus’s heart… was still chained to a ghost.

Later, when he left the office for a call, the assistant stared at the lunchbox again. He thought of Genie’s hopeful voice—“Please… make sure he eats it.”

With a quiet sigh, he untied the bow. The scent that filled the office was gentle, comforting. Different from Elara’s sweetness—it was real.

He ate in silence, each bite pressing guilt deeper into his chest.

Genie’s love was genuine.

But Jairus would never know.

———

That evening

Genie’s hands trembled slightly when the assistant returned. She rushed forward, meeting him halfway, her eyes wide with anticipation.

He held the empty lunchbox.

Her breath caught. Slowly, she took it from his hands, her fingers brushing over the cloth bow she had tied herself. The inside was spotless, gleaming as though nothing had been wasted.

Her throat tightened, a tiny smile trembling at her lips. “He ate it…” she whispered, clutching the box to her chest. Her eyes softened, tears stinging faintly—but for once, they were not from sorrow. “He really… ate it.”

The warmth in her chest spread like fragile sunlight, filling her with hope. For the first time in so long, she felt as though she had managed to reach him—even if just through a simple meal.

She didn’t know—

not yet—

that Jairus hadn’t touched a single bite.

“Madam?” Lina approached, curious.

Genie quickly turned toward her, smile blooming across her face. She held the lunchbox close, her voice trembling with joy. “He finished it all, Lina. Every bite. He really ate my cooking.”

Lina’s eyes lit up in surprise, then softened with warmth. “That’s… wonderful, Madam.”

Genie nodded, hugging the box tighter to her chest as though it carried all her hopes. Her lips curved into a fragile, radiant smile, her heart swelling with an emotion she hadn’t felt in so long.

At last, she thought, he’s letting me in.

"okay, I'll wash the lunch box!" Genie untied the delicate bow and put the lunchbox in the sink, humming while washing the lunchbox.

as Lina watch her happily washing the lunchbox, she suddenly felt sad, the master is so clueless of the Madam's love,

I hope one day, master will notice and they will live happily together, considering the tragic past they've had they could have each other, but... alas..

after finishing washing the lunchbox, said goodnight to Lina, and every maid she passed by, Genie quietly carried her joy back to her room, her steps light, her smile lingering even as the evening deepened around her.