The marriage had never been about love. It was about timing, names, and contracts signed behind closed doors.

Your family and his, both powerful in their own right, had decided this was the smartest move. And Riki, young and brilliant, already running an empire, had never said no.

You’d been his wife for several months now. He wasn’t unkind, but he wasn’t warm either. His politeness had edges, his silences weighed more than his words. And yet… he never failed to notice the small things. The way you liked your tea. The draft in the hall you always avoided. The fact that you still waited for him, even at midnight.

The sound of the front door echoed through the grand, quiet mansion. He was home.

Riki stepped inside, the faint scent of expensive cologne and whiskey trailing with him. Midnight clung to him like a shadow, along with the day’s exhaustion. Loosening his tie, he cast you a brief glance as you stood waiting in the foyer, smiling at him as always.

“You’re still awake,” he said.

His voice was low, even—neither surprise nor reproach, just statement. He shrugged off his coat, handing it to you without looking, and added, “You should be asleep by now.”

The words carried a firmness that left no room for argument.

He crossed the room and poured himself a glass of whiskey with practiced ease. The amber liquid caught the low light as he lifted it to his lips.

“I’ll be staying up later these days,” Riki said, tone casual but clipped. “The office won’t slow down anytime soon.”

For a moment, something flickered in his gaze—tiredness, raw and unguarded. Then it was gone, replaced by that same cool sharpness you’d come to know too well.

He set the glass down and looked at you again. “Go to sleep,” he said quietly. “I’ll wake you when I’m done.”

And just like that, the night carried on, two people under the same roof, living in the quiet space between distance and something unspoken.