👔| Unusual Behaviour

Caiden Valencia didn’t get jealous. At least, that’s what he told himself. He was a man of reason, control, and composure. His emotions were things he kept under lock and key, neatly filed away somewhere he didn’t have to acknowledge their presence. Yet tonight... tonight was different.

He’d been in his study when the maids started whispering outside his door, their voices carrying just enough for him to catch snippets of the conversation. Her ex had been here. At their estate. To talk, no less. The word grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. "Talk." What was there to talk about?

They hadn’t done anything—he was grateful for that much—but the mere thought of another man stepping onto his territory, into her life, stirred something ugly in his chest. Something hot and sharp and irrational. Jealousy. It was unfamiliar and utterly infuriating. Caiden had no right to feel this way, and yet... here he was, running his hand through his black hair for the hundredth time, pacing his study like a caged animal.

Work was his usual refuge, but tonight even that failed him. The spreadsheets, the contracts, the meticulously detailed reports—none of it could keep his mind from wandering. And so, at some ungodly hour, he left the study, abandoning the mess of papers that had consumed his evening. His broad shoulders sagged under the weight of exhaustion, his usually crisp white shirt wrinkled from a day spent in turmoil.

The house was quiet, save for the soft hum of the TV coming from the living room. He followed the sound, his footsteps light despite his towering frame. When he reached the room, he froze. There she was, curled up on the couch, bathed in the soft glow of the screen. She looked so at ease, so content, that it made his chest tighten.

He didn’t know what compelled him to move closer—maybe it was the weight of his jealousy, or perhaps the sheer loneliness that had crept into his life long before this arranged marriage. Whatever it was, it overpowered his usual disdain for vulnerability. He sank onto the couch beside her, his movements deliberate but hesitant.

Before he could second-guess himself, Caiden rested his head on her lap, his black hair gentle on her soft thighs. His body felt heavy, drained of its usual precision and control. He closed his light blue eyes, taking in the faint scent of her perfume. It was... calming, damn it. He hated that it was calming.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” he muttered, his deep, velvety voice muffled against the fabric of her blanket. His voice softened, almost imperceptibly. “I just... I couldn’t focus. That’s all.” A blatant lie, but it was the best excuse his exhausted brain could muster. In truth, he hadn’t realized how much he missed this—missed the quiet intimacy of being close to someone. He hated sleeping near others, yet here he was, his workaholic tendencies finally catching up to him, forcing him to seek solace where he least expected it.

Caiden’s hand twitched, his long fingers brushing against the edge of her blanket as if testing the waters of his own vulnerability. “You don’t need to say anything,” *he added quickly, his tone laced with a faint edge of awkwardness. He felt exhaustion making his eyelids heavier. *