Chapter 5

Astrid's POV

The whole ride home, I kept peering at Damien under my lashes. He looked as impassive as ever, his eyes focused on his phone, the light reflecting from it giving me a beautiful glimpse of his face. He hadn't spoken to me after what happened at the party, and I was getting frustrated because I now felt like it was my fault.

As we walked into his mansion, I decided that I had had enough. I was going to apologize, although I know I did no wrong. If I were given the opportunity to save someone's life again, I would.

As Damien walked towards his room, my hand shot out to grab his wrist. He turned to me, arching a brow.

I inhaled, the words feeling heavy in my mouth. "I—I am so sorry about what happened at the party. If I had known, I would have chosen a different approach. Please forgive me."

His jaw clenched, as if he was fighting to keep his composure, and he turned away from me.

"Just go to sleep, Astrid. It’s late."

With that, he walked away, leaving me feeling even more frustrated. I stared at his back until he disappeared into his room.

Don’t worry, Mr. Grumpy. You can be angry all you want, but I’m going to gain your forgiveness by all means.

With that, I made a mental note of what I would do to gain his forgiveness.

Before the birds could start chirping the next morning, I was awake, and by the time the sun was up, I was already getting ready to execute my plan. I stood in the kitchen, a broad smile taking over my face. Quickly getting to work, knowing that Damien would be awake soon and might leave for his office early, I prepared the most delicious breakfast I could think of—omelets, toast, tea, scrambled eggs, pancakes.

Soon, Damien's footsteps sounded across the floor as he powerfully trudged towards the front door. He didn’t notice me until I cleared my throat. The minute he saw me, he turned away as if I were some insignificant figure. My heart dropped, and my smile faded from my face. But I’m not giving up. No, not now.

With that thought, I ran towards him, blocking his path with my arms extended. "Damien, please," I uttered, ignoring the annoyed glance he threw my way. "I made breakfast; you should eat before leaving."

"I thought I made it clear to you, Astrid. Do not try to—"

"I’m not trying to do anything," I cut him off. "I just want you to eat. My grandma always said a man shouldn't go to work on an empty stomach when it can be filled. You won’t concentrate, and you’ll make mistakes, and mistakes cause your downfall."

Damien turned to me, his gaze darkening. I took a step back.

Surprisingly, he sighed before walking towards the table and plopping down in a seat. A smile crossed my face. I didn’t expect him to do that.

I stared at him subtly while he ate, trying to get any emotion from his face to show that he was enjoying the food. But no! His face remained stoic. Can’t he just appreciate something?

He soon left for work, and I plopped down on the sofa in the living room, watching one movie after another until I felt it—the craving. I picked up my diary and wrote it down.

Dear Grandma,

Here I am again, missing your favorite boiled corn. I don’t know what you did to make me love it so much. I want to eat it so bad. I just wish I could purchase it, but I do not have the funds, and it is quite expensive in this part of the city as we are no longer on the farm.

I love you, Grandma.

Closing my diary, I set it on the table, rested my head on the sofa, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Sometime later, I felt a presence in the room, and a looming shadow over me made me snap my eyes open. My eyes caught onto Damien, who was standing by the table, but when my eyes went to what he held in his hands, they nearly popped out. I jumped up, seizing the book and putting it behind my back. I just hoped he hadn’t read through my diary.

"What are you doing? This is private."

He didn’t respond but turned on his heel and walked away.

I opened the book, seeing that he had been reading the page where I had written this morning. Dang it!

I ran up to my room, going deep into my closet and placing the diary far behind the pile of clothes where I was sure no one would get to it. I couldn’t believe Damien would read something like this. Has he no respect for privacy?

About an hour later, I was downstairs watching movies again when the doorbell rang. The maid rushed to the door, and soon, numerous footsteps met my ears. I turned my eyes, my brows drawn together, as five hefty men walked in, each holding what looked like shopping bags.

Startled, I demanded, "Can I help you?"

"We were told to deliver this here by an anonymous person."

I flipped open one bag he extended while the maid took the rest. My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Corn?" I whispered. "Wait, how did you guys know I needed corn?"

"We’re simply doing our job. Now that we have given you the order, we will be taking our leave."

With that, they turned and walked out, leaving me lost in thought. Who would buy me corn? Could it be Damien?

Without thinking much about it, I slipped out of the room and hurried into the kitchen, arranging the ingredients with the help of the maid.

As I was arranging them, Damien walked into the kitchen, no longer dressed in his suit, but wearing sweatpants and a singlet. He still looked like an Adonis in casual attire to me with bulging muscles and his hair messy, some strands falling over his face

He opened the fridge and took out a glass, filling it with wine, then turned to me, his eyes landing on my face before drifting to the corn laid out on the counter. I stayed still.

"You are not a child," Damien suddenly spoke, almost making me freeze, but when he said nothing more, I picked up the knife and began fixing some ingredients.

My heart raced as I looked at him with wide eyes. He resumed speaking as if he hadn’t just nearly caused me to lose my finger.

"If you desire anything, you let me know. I do not like you, but we are married, and I have a duty to provide for you. Do not repeat what you did today. Whatever cravings, although weird they may be..." He pointed at the corn, gesturing toward it, making me frown. "You can always ask me. Understood?"

As much as I did not want to respond, this was his house and his rules, so I nodded. His phone rang, breaking the tension in the room, and he walked out of the kitchen to take the call.

Feeling my muscles relax, I returned to my work, humming a soft tune as I fixed the ingredients. A thought crossed my mind. Could it be that Damien cares for me enough to satisfy my cravings? Could it be that behind that cold and stoic persona is someone who is capable of doing good for others? A small smile crossed my face at the thought. This means I can actually help him overcome whatever has made him like this. That is what I will do, I promised myself, and continued with cooking.

I was almost done cooking when the sound of heels clicking against the tiles caught my attention. I whirled around, catching sight of a woman dressed to impress, her long blonde hair shinier than any I’d ever seen, her legs looking like they could go on forever, and her white figure-hugging dress making her look like a seductive angel. My brows furrowed, my mind buzzing with thoughts of who she could be.

I cleared my throat, my expression one of confusion. "Uh, excuse me, ma’am. Can I help you?" I smiled. She stared at me, something flickering in her eyes that looked like disgust.

"Uh, can I help you, ma’am?" I questioned again when she didn’t answer. She stared at me, a look of disgust crossing her features.

"Who the hell are you?" Her sharp voice echoed. "And what are you doing in my husband’s house?"