The laughter at the restaurant had stretched longer than expected.
One glass of wine became two.
Two became "just one more."
Tamora had cheered.
Teri had shaken his head but didn't stop her.
And now
The Yu mansion gates opened to reveal a slightly unsteady Tabitha stepping out of the car.
Her heels hit the pavement wrong.
She grabbed the car door.
"Why is the ground… moving?" she muttered.
The driver looked concerned. "Madam, should I call sir"
"No!" she snapped, then softened. "No. I can walk. I'm very… horizontally stable."
That made absolutely no sense.
She nodded to herself proudly and marched toward the entrance.
Her march lasted exactly five steps before she swayed.
The doors opened.
And there he was.
Louis.
Standing in the foyer.
Still in his suit.
Tie loosened.
Waiting.
He took one look at her.
Brows lowered.
"You're drunk."
She blinked slowly at him.
"You have two of you."
He exhaled sharply.
"How much did you drink?"
She held up three fingers.
Then looked at her hand.
"Four? The fingers are multiplying."
He stepped forward just as she nearly tripped on absolutely nothing.
He caught her.
Firm hands around her waist.
She looked up at him.
Very close.
"Ah," she whispered dramatically. "The towel man."
His jaw tightened.
"Can you stand?"
She straightened instantly. "I am the definition of stability."
She immediately leaned into him.
He caught her again.
Silence.
The faint smell of alcohol on her breath.
His voice lowered.
"Why did you drink so much?"
She frowned slightly.
"Because… siblings."
That explained nothing.
He looked at her carefully.
Her eyes were glassy, but not sad.
Just unguarded.
And that made her dangerous.
"Let's go upstairs," he said firmly.
"I can climb," she insisted.
She tried.
Missed the first step.
He closed his eyes briefly.
Then without warning
He lifted her.
She gasped.
"Kidnapper!"
"You're embarrassing," he muttered.
"I am elegance."
"You're drunk."
"Same thing."
He set her down on the bed carefully.
She immediately flopped backward dramatically.
"Your ceiling is very judgmental."
He ignored that and went to get water.
When he returned, she was sitting cross-legged, staring at nothing.
"Drink."
She squinted at the glass suspiciously.
"Is it poison?"
"It's water."
"Boring."
"Tabitha."
The way he said her name low, controlled made her pause.
She drank.
Then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
Very unrefined.
He stared.
"You went to the show," he said calmly.
She nodded proudly. "I was famous."
"I saw."
Her smile widened. "You watched?"
He didn't answer that.
Instead, "You didn't tell me you were going."
She tilted her head.
"You didn't tell me you'd be watching."
That silenced him.
She lay back down, staring at him upside down.
"You were smiling," he said before he could stop himself.
She blinked.
"On the show. You looked… happy."
She studied him lazily.
"Are you jealous?"
His eyes sharpened instantly. "Of what?"
"My siblings," she teased. "Or that I have better co-stars?"
He stood straighter. "You're drunk."
She suddenly sat up again.
Too fast.
The room spun.
She grabbed his shirt to steady herself.
Now they were close again.
Very close.
Her fingers were twisted in his tie.
"Louis," she said softly.
It wasn't teasing.
It wasn't mocking.
It was gentle.
And it caught him off guard.
"Yes?"
She stared at him longer than usual.
"Was I always difficult?"
The question was quiet.
Vulnerable.
He didn't answer immediately.
"You're still difficult," he said finally.
She made a face. "That's not what I asked."
He sighed.
"You were… guarded."
She nodded slowly like that made sense.
"I don't remember everything," she mumbled.
He stiffened slightly.
"What do you mean?"
She blinked slowly, realizing she almost said too much.
"Childhood," she corrected quickly. "Stories. I forgot things."
He watched her carefully.
"You've been different," he said.
She smiled lazily. "Upgrade."
Then she leaned forward unexpectedly and poked his chest.
"You defended me twice today."
He caught her wrist gently.
"You were about to get yourself in trouble."
She leaned closer.
"And you saved me."
His grip tightened slightly.
"Don't get used to it."
She smiled.
Too soft.
"I like this version of you."
The words slipped out.
He froze.
She blinked as if she hadn't meant to say it.
Then she yawned.
The mood broke.
She tried to stand.
Failed.
He steadied her again.
"Bathroom," she declared.
"I'll help."
"I can brush my own teeth."
She grabbed her toothbrush.
Put toothpaste.
Missed her mouth entirely.
He took the brush from her silently.
"Open."
She did.
He brushed her teeth.
Carefully.
Like she was fragile.
She watched him through the mirror.
Eyes soft.
"You'd be a good father," she mumbled absentmindedly.
His hand paused.
Silence filled the bathroom.
He resumed brushing.
"Don't talk nonsense."
She leaned her head slightly against his chest.
"You like kids."
He didn't respond.
When they returned to the bed, she collapsed immediately.
Half asleep already.
He pulled the blanket over her.
She caught his wrist before he could step away.
"Don't sleep in the other room."
He looked down at her hand gripping him.
"You'll regret saying that in the morning."
"Probably," she murmured.
Then softer
"Stay."
He stood there for a long moment.
Then he turned off the light.
And lay on the far edge of the bed.
A careful distance.
Minutes passed.
He thought she was asleep.
Then
She rolled closer.
Curled against his side.
Instinctively.
He stiffened.
Then slowly
His arm rested around her.
Lightly.
Not possessive.
Just there.
In the darkness, he stared at the ceiling.
Morning arrived far too bright.
Tabitha's eyes fluttered open.
Instant regret.
Her head throbbed. Her mouth felt dry. Her brain felt like it had been shaken and dropped.
She groaned softly and shifted
And froze.
Warmth.
Solid. Breathing. Male warmth.
Her eyes slowly moved downward.
Her arm was wrapped tightly around Louis' waist.
One leg thrown over his.
Her cheek pressed flat against his bare chest.
His arm?
Secure around her back.
Intimate.
Very intimate.
Her memories began replaying like a cruel highlight reel.
The wine.
The foyer.
"You have two of you."
Him carrying her upstairs.
Her poking his chest.
Her saying
Her eyes widened in horror.
No.
No no no.
She slowly tilted her head up.
He was awake.
Watching her.
Calm.
Too calm.
"How long have you been awake?" she asked carefully.
"Long enough."
Her soul left her body.
She rolled away instantly, nearly falling off the bed.
His hand shot out and caught her wrist.
"You're going to hurt yourself."
"Why didn't you move me?!" she whisper-yelled.
"You told me to stay."
Her jaw dropped.
"I did not."
"You did."
She buried her face in the pillow.
"I hate alcohol."
He sat up slowly against the headboard.
"You accused me of kidnapping you."
She peeked out slowly.
"That sounds like something I'd say."
"You called me 'towel man.'"
She froze.
"…I need to relocate to another country."
"You also tried to fight the staircase."
She gasped. "The staircase attacked me first."
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Did I cry?"
"No."
"Did I confess anything dramatic?"
He paused just long enough for her heart to stop.
"No."
She exhaled in relief.
"Good."
"You did say you liked this version of me."
Her head snapped toward him.
"I did not."
"You did."
She stared at him.
"Define 'like.'"
"You said," he replied calmly, "'I like this version of you.'"
She grabbed another pillow and smothered her own face.
"Why would you tell me that?"
"You asked what happened."
"I didn't mean full documentation!"
He shrugged lightly.
"You also couldn't brush your teeth properly."
Her face slowly reappeared from the pillow.
"…Excuse me?"
"You missed your mouth."
She stared at him in disbelief.
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
She groaned loudly and flopped back against the mattress.
"This is character assassination."
"You were very talkative."
She turned her head toward him cautiously.
"What else did I say?"
"You asked if I was jealous."
She blinked.
"…Of what?"
"You didn't specify."
Silence.
She stared at the ceiling.
Then slowly turned back toward him.
"Did I embarrass myself in front of anyone else?"
"No. Just me."
She narrowed her eyes. "You sound pleased."
"I'm entertained."
She gasped dramatically. "You enjoyed my suffering."
"You were surprisingly honest."
That made her pause.
She slowly sat up.
"In what way?"
"You weren't calculating," he said evenly. "You weren't defensive. You just… spoke."
She blinked at him.
Then immediately folded her arms.
"I am always genuine."
He gave her a look.
She pointed at him. "You didn't sleep in your room."
"You told me not to."
"That was intoxication."
"You seemed very certain."
She felt heat creep up her neck.
"That doesn't count."
"Why not?"
"Because I wasn't in my right mind!"
He leaned slightly closer.
"And now?"
She swallowed.
"I am perfectly sane."
He studied her face.
"You're still blushing."
"I am not!"
"You are."
She grabbed the blanket and threw it at him.
"You're insufferable."
"You're chaotic."
She stood abruptly.
Immediately regretted it when the room tilted.
He reached out instinctively, steadying her by the waist.
Their eyes locked.
Too close again.
Her breathing hitched slightly.
She quickly stepped back.
"I'm going to shower."
"Try not to fight the bathroom too."
She glared at him.
"It was one staircase."
As she walked toward the bathroom, he spoke again.
"You didn't embarrass yourself."
She stopped at the door but didn't turn around.
"I didn't?"
"No."
She hesitated.
"Then why do I feel like disappearing?"
"Because you're not used to being unguarded."
That silenced her.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the towel in her hands.
After a moment she muttered, "Never drinking again."
"You said that last night too."
Her eyes widened.
"…I did?"
"Yes."
She groaned.
"I don't need witnesses to my downfall."
"You have one."
She turned slowly, narrowing her eyes at him.
"You're enjoying this far too much."
He leaned back casually.
"I didn't push you away."
Her heart skipped unexpectedly.
"That wasn't permission," she said quickly.
"I didn't say it was."
Silence fell between them.
Not awkward.
Not exactly comfortable either.
Just… charged.
She cleared her throat.
"Next time I drink, confiscate the bottle."
"I tried."
"You failed."
"You bite when provoked."
She blinked.
"I do not."
He lifted a brow.
"You threatened to fire the driver for 'side-eyeing your balance.'"
Her mouth fell open.
"He judged me!"
"He was concerned."
She covered her face again.
"Why am I like this?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he watched her quietly.
And for the first time that morning
There was no teasing in his expression.
Just something softer.
She sensed it.
Looked up.
Caught him staring.
"What?" she asked suspiciously.
"Nothing."
He stood up.
Too close again as he passed her.
Her shoulder brushed his chest.
Neither moved immediately.
Then she quickly slipped into the bathroom and shut the door.
On the other side
She pressed her back against it.
Heart racing.
Why did that feel different?
Outside
Louis stood still for a moment.
Then exhaled quietly.
The chaos wasn't from the alcohol.
It was from the fact that neither of them moved away.
And both of them remembered.
The servants' quarters buzzed with excitement long before noon.
Laundry baskets were abandoned in corners, half-folded linens forgotten on the long wooden tables as the maids gathered in small clusters. Their voices were hushed, but the excitement in them made it impossible to keep quiet for long.
"Did you see them last night?" one maid whispered, eyes wide.
"I saw it!" another said quickly. "I was the one bringing fresh towels from the laundry hall when they returned."
Sam stood a few steps away polishing silver trays, her back turned to them. Her hands moved slowly, mechanically.
But her ears were sharp.
"What happened?" a younger maid asked eagerly.
"You mean you didn't hear?" the older maid gasped. "Master Louis carried Madam Tabitha inside."
The tray in Sam's hands stilled for the briefest second.
Carried.
"Carried?" someone repeated in disbelief.
"Yes!" the maid insisted, leaning closer as if sharing royal secrets. "Madam Tabitha was drunk, completely drunk. Her arms were around his neck and she was laughing like a child."
A ripple of laughter spread through the room.
"He carried her all the way upstairs," another maid added dramatically. "Like she weighed nothing."
Sam resumed polishing the tray.
Slowly.
Carefully.
As if nothing in the world had changed.
But the cloth in her hand twisted tighter with every second.
"No way," someone said. "Master Louis never even looks at Madam Tabitha."
"That's what I thought too," the first maid said. "But last night was different."
"How different?"
"Well," she lowered her voice, but not enough to stop curiosity from exploding around her, "he didn't leave her room."
Sam's hand stopped again.
The tray slipped slightly, clinking against the table.
No one noticed.
"What do you mean he didn't leave?"
"I mean exactly that," the maid said proudly. "He stayed there all night."
Gasps erupted.
"All night?"
"All night."
"But… Master Louis always sleeps in his room or the study" another maid said thoughtfully.
"That's true," someone agreed.
"Did he sleep on the floor again?. When Mrs Tabitha changed, he holds her hand and sleeps beside her bed on the floor"
The storyteller shrugged dramatically.
"I don't know about the floor," she said. "But the lights in Madam Tabitha's room didn't go out until very late."
More giggles.
"Maybe they made up."
"Maybe Madam finally melted his cold heart."
"Oh please," another maid scoffed playfully. "Master Louis doesn't melt for anyone."
"Then explain why he carried her."
Silence followed.
Even Sam's breathing seemed louder in the stillness.
Finally someone said,
"Maybe… he actually likes her now."
Laughter broke out again.
But it sounded softer this time.
Less mocking.
More curious.
Sam placed the tray down slowly.
Her reflection stared back at her from the polished surface.
Perfect posture.
Perfect uniform.
Perfect calm.
But her chest burned.
She turned slightly so the other maids wouldn't see her face.
Another voice spoke.
"I also heard something from the night guard."
"Oh? What?"
"He said Madam Tabitha was talking nonsense while Master Louis carried her."
"Nonsense?"
"Yes! She kept saying things like 'Don't drop me' and 'You look handsome today.'"
More laughter erupted.
One maid covered her mouth.
"That's so embarrassing!"
"But romantic," another said dreamily.
Sam's fingers curled around the edge of the table.
Romantic.
The word felt like poison.
"For someone who used to fight with him all the time," the younger maid continued, "Madam Tabitha looked really comfortable with him."
Another added eagerly
"Maybe the marriage is finally becoming real."
The words slammed into Sam's chest.
Real.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then one of the girls noticed her.
"Sam, you were working late last night too, right?"
Every eye turned toward her.
Her face remained calm.
"I didn't see anything."
Her voice was smooth.
Flat.
But the girl grinned.
"Come on, you must have noticed something."
Sam picked up another tray and began polishing again.
"No."
Another maid leaned closer.
"But you always bring tea to Master Louis' study. You're around him more than us."
Sam's jaw tightened slightly.
"That's just my duty."
"Still," the girl insisted, lowering her voice mischievously, "do you think he actually likes Madam Tabitha now?"
Silence.
The room waited.
Sam's cloth moved slowly across the tray.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Finally she spoke.
"Master Louis treats everyone the same."
Her tone was careful.
Controlled.
But the words tasted bitter.
One maid tilted her head.
"Not last night."
Another giggled.
"If he carried me like that I'd faint."
"Same!"
Sam suddenly placed the tray down harder than intended.
The sound echoed sharply.
The room fell quiet.
She realized immediately.
Her expression softened quickly.
"Be careful with the silver," she said calmly. "They're expensive."
The maids nodded sheepishly and returned to their work.
The chatter slowly resumed.
But quieter now.
Sam turned away from them.
Her chest felt tight.
Carried her.
Stayed all night.
Came downstairs together.
The images formed in her mind without permission.
Louis' arms around Tabitha.
Tabitha laughing against his shoulder.
The bedroom door closing.
The lights staying on.
Her stomach twisted painfully.
For years she had watched him walk these halls.
Cold.
Distant.
Untouchable.
And that distance had felt like a quiet promise.
A space waiting to be filled.
Now
Now someone else had stepped into it.
Her nails pressed into her palms.
Across the room, another maid whispered again.
"Do you think they'll start acting like a real couple now?"
Sam closed her eyes for a brief moment.
When she opened them again, the softness was gone.
Only a thin smile remained.
"They're husband and wife," she said calmly without turning around.
"Of course they will."