Chapter 9: Spilled coffee, shattered hope

AMAYA'S POV

As my gaze locked with Logan, I couldn't think about anything other than his unique features. I knew he was handsome, but looking up closer, he was even more handsome. What am I even doing? He wronged me hours ago—why did I forget about his hurtful words and actions? Why do I care about his handsomeness?

“The light is back,” he muttered, snapping me out of my reverie. I flinched, moving away from him, calmly expecting the consequences of my foolishness. I keep on doing things to annoy him.

I stood in front of him, awaiting his response.

“Go and sleep in your room,” he muttered, and left.

Just like that!

He didn’t say anything more. What’s happening? This is unlike the man I married; he would have flared up and threaten to punish me.

Why did he leave? Did Maxon advise him to stop being mean to me? Thoughts swirled in my mind, and I couldn’t give answers to any of them. I concluded that the man I was married to was not someone I could understand.

As I always did, I listened to my husband and walked to my room. As I sat on the bed, I grabbed my phone and replied to Erica’s messages. She had been asking me how everything was going, and I had been replying with negative answers.

All our plans didn’t work on Logan—he’s not human, so such seductive acts cannot have any effect on him.

As I replied to Erica, I put my phone aside, laying properly on the bed. I used the duvet to cover myself before indulging myself with thoughts of Logan.

The image of his blue piercing eyes and his cute pink lips kept appearing in my head. How could someone have such beautiful features? He’s too handsome for his devilish character. Everything about Logan lingers and I continue thinking about it. I gradually drifted off to sleep, the world around me fading away.

When I woke up the next morning, the soft light of the sun filtered through the curtains, gently coaxing me awake. A smile tugged at my lips as I settled back against my pillow, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin.

“It’s morning again,” I muttered, my face beaming with a smile. Even though my life isn’t the best right now, I have hope—Logan might fall in love with me. The way he gazed at me yesterday... I could feel it, I could feel his heart melting.

Smiling at my own naughty thoughts, I stood up from the bed and walked to the bathroom. I had my bath, put on a white short gown, and packed my hair into a ponytail. I love packing my hair—it makes me look cute.

I made sure to apply makeup before leaving the room. On my way to the living room, I texted Erica and my dad—the only people who cherished me. I should love them right back.

I scanned the spacious living room, searching for Madam Nova, but I couldn’t see her. I thought she went out, but it doesn’t seem so. Did Logan sack her?

“No... Of course not... He should have a little sympathy; that’s what makes him human,” I muttered, correcting my thoughts. Deep down, I believed Logan must have sacked her, but I was trying to correct it.

An idea suddenly popped into my mind. What if I make Logan coffee? That might help him fall in love with me faster. I smiled, rushing to the kitchen.

Bringing out a small cup, I poured some instant coffee and added hot water, mixing everything with a spoon. I put the cup on a tray and started walking to Logan’s room. I knocked on the door, anticipating a reply, but I got no response.

“Good morning,” I mumbled, my smile unweaving. I couldn’t stop imagining Logan drinking my coffee with a happy expression.

“What do you want?” he snapped.

He sounded angry—why? Anyway, I’m not giving up now. Not now!

“Your morning coffee,” I replied, my cheerful tone contrasting with his cold demeanor.

I waited for a few minutes, but I never heard any words. Then, I concluded that his silence granted permission to enter.

I twisted the doorknob and stepped into the room, which I almost misinterpreted as the living room—it was so spacious. I thought he put me in one of the best rooms, but I now understand that he had been discriminating against me. I’m sure my room is the same size as his bathroom. I controlled my emotions, trying to remain natural.

I moved my gaze to Logan, who was sitting in the chair, his back to me. The sounds of his keyboard filled the room. Why is he working now when he would eventually go to the company?

I walked to his table, dropping the tray carefully as I tried to avoid spilling it on the documents placed on the table as well.

Finally, he moved his gaze from the laptop to me. The hatred in his eyes from yesterday was back; he was now looking venomous. What have I gotten myself into? Why did I decide to bring him coffee? Regret washed over me as I stood there.

“I didn’t ask you to make me coffee,” he snapped, his eyes flashing with both fury and irritation.

I bit my lower lip, cursing the angel that whispered to me that Logan was changing. He hasn’t changed; he was just in a good mood last night. In an effort not to provoke him further, I began searching for a reply in my head.

“I just thought you’d need it,” I replied softly.

The sound of him chuckling filled the room—a warning sign for me that I had made the wrong decision to bring him coffee. What was I thinking? Why did I come to his room? I’ve always been clumsy. I never knew my foolish attitude would bring me to this situation. I never thought I’d dig my own grave because of my clumsiness.

“I don’t drink coffee, so you drink it,” he replied, and I sighed. I began thanking God inwardly—he just told me to drink it; he didn’t insult me or punish me. I think he’s really changing.

He carried the tray, handing it toward me. As I stretched my hand forward to collect it, he dropped it on the floor. The shattering glass made me move backward as I covered my ears, trying to shield myself from the clattering sound.

My heartbeat increased at the sudden accident. I slowly let my eyes fall to the floor, taking in the sight of the shattered glass and the spilled coffee. My gaze moved over to Logan, half-expecting a look of shock, but instead, I was surprised  to find him smirking.  Did he do this intentionally? His next words answered that question.

He smiled, “The coffee is on the floor. You can’t waste it.”

Then, suddenly his friendly expression changed to a frown.

“Lick it off!”

My heart skipped a beat as the three words rang in my ears. Lick what? The coffee?

“You wanted to tell me to clean it,” I uttered, my voice trembling.

“You heard right, but you process it wrong.” He smirked.

“Lick the coffee, with your tongue!”