CHAPTER IX: A Honeymoon Without Love
1034 Words
Paris.
The city of love.
Irony had never felt so heavy.
Maxine stood by the large glass window of their hotel suite, her fingers lightly brushing against the cool surface as she stared out at the glowing city below. The lights shimmered like scattered stars, the distant hum of life carrying through the night. Somewhere out there, couples laughed, held hands, kissed beneath streetlights.
This was supposed to be her honeymoon.
A dream she had imagined countless times.
Soft laughter. Gentle touches. Quiet moments shared between two people deeply in love.
But now—
She wasn’t even sure what this was.
Behind her, the faint sound of typing filled the room.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Maxine slowly turned her head.
Roman sat at the small desk near the bed, his laptop open, his posture straight, his attention completely absorbed in the screen. The glow of the monitor reflected against his sharp features, his expression serious and unreadable.
Working.
On their honeymoon.
Maxine let out a quiet sigh, her shoulders lowering slightly.
Of course he is…
She wrapped her arms around herself, a faint chill settling in her chest.
What did I even expect?
This wasn’t a real honeymoon.
This wasn’t a real marriage.
This was an agreement.
A transaction.
A solution.
Her lips pressed together as she looked away from him, her gaze returning to the city lights.
Still…
A small part of her—one she didn’t want to acknowledge—felt disappointed.
She shook her head lightly, almost scolding herself.
Don’t be ridiculous, Maxine.
This was better.
Safer.
She didn’t have to pretend.
Didn’t have to act like a loving wife.
Didn’t have to force emotions she didn’t feel.
Or… maybe ones she wasn’t ready to feel again.
Her grip tightened slightly on her arms.
This is just temporary.
That thought eased something in her chest.
A fragile kind of relief.
Without another word, she turned away from the window.
“I’m going to take a bath,” she said, her voice calm, almost indifferent.
Roman didn’t look up.
“Hmm,” he responded briefly, fingers still moving across the keyboard.
Maxine paused for a second, as if waiting for something more.
But nothing came.
Her expression flickered—something unreadable—before she simply nodded to herself and walked toward the bathroom.
The soft click of the door echoed quietly behind her.
Warm water cascaded over her skin, washing away the tension that had clung to her since yesterday.
Her shoulders slowly relaxed.
Her breathing steadied.
For the first time since everything fell apart… her mind felt quiet.
But only for a moment.
Fragments returned.
The letter.
The pain.
The wedding.
Roman.
She closed her eyes tightly, letting the water run over her face.
Stop thinking.
Just… stop.
This was her reality now.
And she had chosen it.
After what felt like forever, she turned off the water, wrapping herself in a soft towel.
Thirty minutes.
Maybe more.
She didn’t keep track.
She just needed the silence.
When Maxine stepped out of the bathroom, the room felt different.
Quieter.
The sound of typing was gone.
Her brows furrowed slightly as she glanced toward the desk.
The laptop was closed.
Her gaze shifted.
And there he was.
Roman.
Sitting on the edge of the bed.
His hair was slightly damp, as if he had just taken a bath. A simple shirt clung lightly to him, sleeves rolled up casually. He looked… relaxed. Unbothered. Completely at ease in a situation that still felt surreal to her.
Maxine froze for a second.
When did he—?
She hadn’t even heard him move.
Roman lifted his gaze, meeting hers directly.
There was something different in his eyes.
Not the sharpness she was used to.
Not the cold, calculating look from the office.
Something quieter.
More observant.
“You took a while,” he said simply.
Maxine blinked, caught off guard.
“…I needed it,” she replied, tightening her hold on the towel slightly.
Silence stretched between them.
Not hostile.
But not comfortable either.
Just… unfamiliar.
Roman leaned back slightly, one hand resting on the bed as he studied her.
“You should rest,” he added. “You look exhausted.”
Maxine hesitated.
Was that concern?
Or just… practicality?
She couldn’t tell.
“…I am,” she admitted quietly.
Without waiting for anything more, she walked to the other side of the bed, avoiding his gaze.
She pulled the covers slightly and slipped in, turning her back toward him.
Distance.
It felt necessary.
Safe.
A few seconds passed.
Then the mattress dipped slightly.
Roman lay down on the other side.
Not too close.
Not too far.
Just enough space to remind her—
They were sharing the same bed.
Maxine stiffened.
Her fingers curled slightly against the sheets.
Right…
They were married.
No matter how temporary.
No matter how unreal.
Her heart beat just a little faster.
Behind her, Roman shifted slightly, adjusting his position.
“Relax,” his voice came, low and steady. “I’m not going to do anything.”
Her breath caught.
Was he… reading her thoughts?
Heat crept faintly to her cheeks, though she was glad he couldn’t see her face.
“I wasn’t thinking that,” she muttered, a bit too quickly.
A soft pause.
Then—
A faint, almost amused exhale.
Maxine frowned slightly.
Was that… a laugh?
“…Go to sleep, Maxine,” Roman said after a moment, his tone returning to calm neutrality.
She didn’t respond.
But slowly—
Her body relaxed.
The exhaustion she had been holding back finally caught up to her.
Her breathing softened.
Steadied.
Sleep came quietly this time.
Not from collapse.
Not from pain.
But from sheer fatigue.
Roman remained still beside her.
His eyes open.
Watching the ceiling.
Then—slowly—his gaze shifted toward her back.
He didn’t move closer.
Didn’t reach out.
Just watched.
Silent.
Thoughtful.
And for the first time since their sudden marriage—
The distance between them didn’t feel like rivalry.
It felt like something waiting.
Uncertain.
Unspoken.
But not empty.
Outside, Paris continued to glow—
Unaware that inside one quiet hotel room,
A marriage built on desperation had just begun to change.
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