She’s My Wife, So I’ll Protect Her However I Want

Chapter 10: Bitter, Yet Comforting

Shaking his head, Kael sat across from her, picking up his fork and taking a bite. The food was… good. Surprisingly good. He chewed slowly, thoughtfully, watching as Seraphina flipped a page, pretending to be completely engrossed in her book.

For a moment, he considered staying quiet.

Then he remembered who he was. There was no way he was going to let her go so easily. After all, she made him beg.

Kael smirked. "Ouch." He took a dramatic bite, sighing in exaggerated pleasure. "Ah, delicious. Almost as if someone put actual effort into it."

Seraphina's grip on her book tightened ever so slightly.

Kael grinned. "Or, perhaps, a tiny bit of affection? A secret, hidden speck of care for her beloved husb—"

The book slammed shut.

Kael froze. Did I overdo it? I should've stayed quiet.

Seraphina placed the book down, her movements slow, deliberate. Then, without looking at him, she pushed back her chair and stood.

Kael tensed, eyes darting toward his plate, toward her—toward the window.

She wouldn't, would she? Is she really going to throw my food away this time?

Seraphina moved with unnerving calmness, stepping around the table, her soft slippers making no sound against the marble floor. Her expression was unreadable, but the quiet menace in the air sent a chill down Kael's spine.

"Alright, alright," he said quickly, holding up a hand. "I will behave."

Seraphina ignored him.

Kael braced himself—only for his stomach to drop when she reached for something beside his plate.

A knife.

His eyes widened.

"Okay, okay!" He leaned back, hands raised. "I get it! I get it! You hate me. Loud and clear!"

Seraphina lifted the knife—then, without looking at him, placed it onto the table again.

Kael blinked.

…That was it?

He stared at her, stunned, as she sat back down and picked up her book once more, flipping a page with complete indifference.

No threats? No flying objects? No dramatic window maneuver?

His fingers twitched. This was worse. Much worse.

Because now, now, she was saying she didn't even care enough to respond. That he wasn't even worth a reaction. Unacceptable.

Kael cleared his throat, forcing a smirk back onto his face. "Wow. No book throw? No death glare? Not even a single warning?" He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "You're slipping, darling. I expected more fire from my ever-so-lovely wife."

Seraphina turned a page.

Kael grinned. "Could it be… that you're growing fond of me?"

Seraphina inhaled deeply. Then, without a word, she stood again.

Kael tensed.

She walked past the table, past him, her pace slow, controlled. He followed her movements with curiosity, noting the way the loose strands of her silver hair swayed as she moved. The silk of her gown clung slightly as she moved, emphasizing her slender figure. She wasn't fragile—far from it. Beneath the elegant curves of her waist and hips, there was tension, the telltale grace of a fighter. Like a predator lying in wait.

His smirk widened. How adorable.

She reached the counter where a porcelain teacup sat, untouched.

Ah. That's right. Her tea.

Kael leaned back, watching as she reached for the teapot. "A cup of tea before bed, huh? How very refined. So ladylike. So sophisticated."

Seraphina ignored him.

He grinned. "So predictable."

Her grip on the teapot handle twitched.

Kael smirked. "Tell me, do you ever get tired of being so… rigid? So cold? So terribly, terribly boring?"

The teapot clinked against the cup as she poured.

Kael leaned back, watching her with amusement. "Or is this your way of hiding the fact that you secretly enjoy my company?"

Seraphina set the teapot down, her hand moving to pick up her cup.

Kael tilted his head. "Perhaps, deep down, you're even a little bit—"

Seraphina turned and walked toward him.

Kael barely had time to react before the steaming cup of tea was thrust into his hands.

He yelped, nearly dropping it. "Hot! Hot—!"

Seraphina simply walked past him, returning to her seat without another word.

Kael stared down at the cup in his hands, feeling the heat seep into his skin.

…Had she just given him tea? No. No, this was an attack. This was a trap.

He narrowed his eyes at the innocent-looking liquid. Was it poisoned? No, Seraphina wasn't the type to be so direct.

Then…

His stomach dropped.

Oh, no. This was worse than poison. This was a declaration. A silent, smug message.

She was saying: I don't need to waste energy on you. I have already won.

Kael clenched his jaw, glaring at her as she sipped her own tea with quiet satisfaction. Unacceptable.

He set the cup down. First, the meal. He wasn't going to let her win that easily.

After finishing the last bite, he wiped his mouth with deliberate ease, sighing in satisfaction. "That hit the spot."

Seraphina didn't answer.

Kael tilted his head, watching her. "I should make you cook more often."

Her eye twitched.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," he said, grinning. "I'm merely complimenting your skills, my dear wife."

Seraphina inhaled deeply, flipping a page as if ignoring him. But he noticed it—the slight twitch of her fingers, the barely restrained irritation in her eyes.

She wants to kill me so badly right now.

How cute.

Now, for the tea.

He picked up the cup, blowing lightly before taking a slow sip. He set it down with exaggerated appreciation. "Hmm. A well-brewed tea. Just the right amount of bitterness."

Seraphina didn't react.

Kael leaned forward slightly. "You know, it's fascinating. Even your tea matches your personality."

Her fingers tightened around the porcelain.

"Strong, bitter, and yet…" He smirked. "Oddly comforting."

Seraphina slammed her cup onto the table.

"You," she said, her voice low, "talk too much, don't you think? I am tired of you."

Kael chuckled, leaning back lazily. "And yet, here we are. Sharing a lovely, intimate tea together. A husband and wife, just the two of us, alone in the candlelight—"

Seraphina's eyes darkened. "Say one more word and I swear—"

He held up his hands. "Alright, alright, message received."

She exhaled sharply, returning to her tea with a scowl.

A comfortable silence stretched between them—well, comfortable for him. Seraphina, on the other hand, looked as if she was using every ounce of willpower not to throw her book at his head.

After finishing his meal, Kael pushed his plate aside and stretched again, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Man, what a long day. I should probably get some sleep."

Seraphina didn't respond, but he noticed the way her fingers fidgeted slightly on the pages.

He walked past her, pausing just beside her chair. Lowering his voice, he leaned in slightly. "Are you going to stay here all night? Or will you finally come back to our bed?"

Her hand froze on the page.

Kael grinned. "It is our bed, you know. And I did stay away all of last night, just like you wanted."

Seraphina exhaled slowly, her posture stiff. "I never wanted you to come back."

Kael smirked. "Then I suppose you won't mind if I make myself comfortable?"

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and strolled toward their shared bedroom. He didn't look back, but he could feel her glare burning into the back of his head.

And just like that, he had walked away. Leaving her there. Gripping her book so tightly she nearly bent the cover.

Seraphina exhaled slowly, forcing her pulse to settle.

It had been a game. It was always a game to him. And yet—

She had lost.

Not because she had spoken. Not because she had let him get under her skin.

But because the moment he left, the moment the teasing lilt of his voice faded into the quiet of the room—

She felt it. The absence. The lingering warmth of his words.

The way her body tensed, expecting another quip, another smirk, another insufferable challenge—only to be met with silence.

Her fingers curled around the edges of the book, frustration knotting in her chest.

Why did he always do this? Why did he always push her, prod at her, unravel her without even trying?

Why did he always win?

Seraphina inhaled sharply, snapping her book shut. Because—

She had decided. Tonight, she would not reply.

She wouldn't rise to his taunts. Wouldn't react. Wouldn't waste her breath on a man who thrived on her frustration.

Seraphina had told herself this over and over again, gripping her book like it was an anchor. If she ignored him, if she gave him nothing to work with, eventually, he'd get bored.

At least, that was the plan.

But Kael never made things easy.

His words echoed in her mind, each one a precise strike meant to test her patience.

"I should make you cook more often."

She had clenched her jaw, kept her eyes on the pages, kept her fingers steady. It was bait. She knew it was bait.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. I'm merely complimenting your skills, my dear wife."

Dear wife.

The way he had said it, teasing yet knowing, as if he could see the crack forming beneath her carefully constructed calm.

It was infuriating. No, he was infuriating.

Her grip on the book tightened. She had not responded, had forced herself into silence, had refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. She had thought she won.

But Kael was relentless.

"Strong, bitter, and yet… oddly comforting."

The way he had spoken those words, deliberate and low, had sent a jolt of something unwelcome down her spine. It wasn't anger. It wasn't irritation. It was worse.

He had meant them as an insult. But somehow… somehow, they had settled in her chest differently.

And then—

"Are you going to stay here all night? Or will you finally come back to our bed?"

Her hand had frozen mid-turn of a page.

It was a simple question. A casual, almost lazy remark. But it wasn't the words that had made her falter—it was his voice.

Low. Amused. Close.

Seraphina had felt the weight of his presence before she even turned.

He had leaned in, just slightly, letting the warmth of his breath ghost against her skin. Just enough to remind her that he was there, that no matter how much distance she put between them, he would always find a way to shatter it.

She had told herself not to react.

But she did.

And now—

She let out a quiet sigh, setting the cup down on the table. The warmth of the tea had faded, much like her resolve.

Without another word, she rose from her seat, the book still in her grasp, and started toward their room.

The hall was quiet. The lanterns cast flickering shadows along the walls, stretching and shifting like ghosts in the dim light.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the door handle. She wasn't sure if it was from frustration—or something else entirely.

With a steadying breath, she pushed the door open.

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(Chapter Ended)