Chapter 2; separate rooms?

After some time, Page stood up, 

She made her way upstairs to unpack her things, admiring the neat hallway upstairs as she walked. “Mr cannon does have taste.’ She said to herself. If she was going to live in misery, at least she had such a nice house to do it in

She made her way to the master bedroom, It was time for her to unpack her things. 

She opened the door to meet all her things not in the room.

The master bedroom was a sanctuary of elegance and comfort, tastefully decorated with an eye for luxury. Soft, ambient lighting bathed the room in a warm glow, highlighting the rich, dark wood furniture and the plush, king-sized bed draped in crisp, white linens. The bed, with its tufted headboard and an array of decorative pillows, beckoned invitingly. Yet the only thing on the bed was the clothes Rowan wore yesterday neatly folded.

It was very obvious that this was meant to be a shared bedroom for a newlywed couple, so where was all her stuff.

Rowan's belongings- His large suitcases were placed in the center of the floor. His smaller bag was carelessly tossed beside the leg of the bed.

She rushed over to the spacious walk-in closet with mirrored doors standing to one side, opening it to be greeted by the sight of Rowan's belongings and clothes hanging in the closet.

“What?” she said, Her stuff wasn’t there. It wasn't in the bathroom either when she checked.

There was no sign of her things. She grunted, wondering what Rowan could have done.

Page hurried to the guest bedrooms. After the second door, she wondered if he had thrown her clothes out the window. She felt so stressed just thinking about it, just how etty was he?

She opened the third door, and relief washed over her. There, in the guest bedroom, were her suitcases, still packed and waiting. At least they weren’t on the floor outside.

With a sigh, This was Rowan’s way of boldly saying that they wouldn’t be sleeping in the same room, not even in the next-door room apparently as he had moved her to the furthest guest room they had from the master bedroom.

Page shook her head, too tired for this. “Okay, loveless marriage” she finally accepted as she rubbed her eyes.

 Page set to work unpacking her things. By the end of the day, the guest bedroom was finally in order. Page stood back, surveying her work, and tried to muster a sense of accomplishment. But the sadness lingered, This was not how newlyweds spent their honeymoon. Rowan wasn't even supposed to be at work.

Evening came, and Page found herself in the kitchen, preparing something light for dinner.

She had little hope that Rowan would appreciate her efforts, she was expecting him to come home and reject the meal anyway, but cooking gave her something to focus on.

She set the table for two. The food was ready, a simple yet delicious pasta dish accompanied by a fresh salad, and she sat down to wait, glancing at the clock, it was past eight pm now. 

By 10 PM, the food had grown cold, and there was still no sign of Rowan. Page didn’t bother to reheat the meal, She was expecting him to have eaten by now. Yet, she didn't put it away either. 

The night dragged on and the clock struck midnight, Page was still up, reluctant to admit it to herself but she was waiting for him.

“Where could he be?” she thought. Perhaps he was caught up in some serious business at the office. He was heading a billion-dollar company, after all, there would be late nights. She was reluctant to call him still.

—-

Page’d head bobbed backward, she sat up straight waking up from her doze. Rowan still hadn’t come home. 

She glanced at the clock, 2 AM, No she was just worried.

She picked up her phone and dialed his number. The call rang and rang before going to voicemail. She tried again but his phone seemed to be on Do Not Disturb.

Page sat down, her fingers tapping nervously on the armrest of the chair in her room. “He should be fine, he can take care of himself.” She murmured to herself.

She considered calling his friends but realized she didn’t have any of their numbers.

In their brief interactions, Rowan had never shared much about his social circle. She thought about calling his parents, she had only met them twice —once during a brief introduction and again at their wedding yesterday. Both times, the interaction doesn’t have anything but distance.

“There isn’t any point in calling them anyways,” She said, remembering that both of his parents would likely be out of the country by now. She had heard they barely stayed in California, and even more rarely stayed together. 

She sighed. Her only option was his grandfather, Matthew Cannon, The man who had started all this when he had arranged with an old friend of his for a marriage between their families.

Page hesitated, not wanting to be the kind of wife who called her husband’s family out of worry on the second day of marriage. It was embarrassing enough that their relationship was already on shaky ground.

As she sat there, debating whether or not to make the call, the silence was suddenly broken by the sound of the front door downstairs unlocking and swinging open. Page Gasped. Realizing that must be him. The relief was immediate and overwhelming. She stood up quickly and hurried to the hallway.

Rowan stepped inside, looking weary but otherwise composed. He didn’t notice her at first, his focus on setting his briefcase down and shrugging off his coat.

“Rowan,” Page called out from the top of the stairs

He looked up, surprise flickering across his features before his usual guarded expression settled back into place. “Page,” he replied, his tone neutral.