Chapter 197 Cold War

Chapter 197: Chapter 197 Cold War

Dorian remained standing near the middle of the lounge area.

​The small brown glass bottle was still firmly gripped in his hand. The custom leather gloves were still sitting on the dark sofa cushion where she had left them. Across the room, Veyra’s back was still turned and her posture completely motionless.

​His sharp mind pieced the whole picture together within seconds.

​She had found the essential oil inside his study trash can. She had pulled it out of the garbage, saved it, and kept it hidden among her things.

​Then she had stood in front of him and asked for it back in that casual, gentle tone, acting as though she had no idea where it was.

​She had been testing him the entire time.

​She might have initially assumed the bottle had tumbled into the waste bin by pure mistake. Or perhaps she knew all along that he had discarded it in a moment of cold irritation.

​Either way, she had opened a clear door for him to speak the truth.

​And he had failed her test completely.

​A sudden wave of deep regret washed over him. ℯℯ𝑙.

​He knew he should have taken a breath and admitted the truth on the spot. He should have looked her in the eye and said, I threw it away. I was angry, I was frustrated, and I made a mistake.

​Yet he had chosen the coward’s route instead. He had looked her in the face and spun a lie, claiming he had left the bottle behind in a hotel room in the Etran Empire.

​To stop the growing guilt in his chest, he forced himself to believe that this outcome was actually for the best.

​He told himself he wanted distance between them. He wanted a clear boundary and a wall she could not cross.

​At the end of the day, she was merely the mother of his future child and nothing more.

​That was the core agreement they had made from the start. That was the contract.

​By all logical rules, he ought to feel relieved that the distance between them was growing wider.

​Yet relief was the one thing he did not feel.

​Instead, a heavy, restless weight settled inside his mind, making him feel far more troubled than before.

​Whenever she showed him soft gratitude, he felt deeply uncomfortable and on edge. But now that she had stopped being grateful and pulled away, he felt equally uncomfortable and restless.

​There was simply no winning this game, and no peace to be found anywhere.

​He could not understand why his own mind was acting so irrationally.

​He should have been pleased that she was no longer trying to thank him for every little thing. He should have been glad she was no longer looking at him with those warm, gentle eyes or offering him homemade remedies.

​Yet he felt no satisfaction at all.

​He was simply irritated, deeply frustrated, and thoroughly confused by his own conflicting emotions.

​He reached down and picked up the tactical gloves from the sofa armrest.

​The rare lizard skin felt smooth and cool against his fingers, and the dark metal plating over the knuckles caught the dim lighting of the room. They were solid, masterfully crafted, and tough. He had spent hours at his private workbench making sure every single seam was strong enough to protect her.

​He cast a long look at Veyra, but she had not shifted her weight an inch. Her back remained firmly turned to him like a stone wall.

​He did not offer a word of explanation. He did not attempt to apologize, nor did he make a single sound to break the heavy silence.

​He simply turned around, walked directly into his walk-in closet, and shut the door tight behind him.

​Veyra stood by the window, listening intently to every sound in the room.

​She heard the closet door click shut. She heard the soft thud of his footsteps fading away, followed by the deep, heavy silence that settled over the bedroom.

​Only then did she finally turn her body around.

​The lounge area was completely deserted now. The custom gloves were no longer sitting on the sofa, and the small trash bin near the counter was completely empty.

​She slowly let out a long, quiet breath that she had been holding in her chest.

​She had always hated the feeling of owing favors or debts to anyone. That was the primary reason she had taken off those expensive gloves and set them down for him to find. They were far too valuable, crafted with rare materials and high skill. Wearing them made her feel as if she carried a heavy debt toward him.

​She simply could not keep taking such gifts without feeling bound to him.

​And more than anything, she refused to feel indebted to Dorian Thorne.

​A part of her felt a sharp spark of anger over the whole situation.

​He had taken her thoughtful gesture, the natural sleep remedy she had carefully blended with her own hands to soothe his terrible sleeplessness, and thrown it straight into the garbage like worthless junk.

​Yet despite his harsh behavior, she did not harbor true hatred for him in her heart.

​She still held onto the quiet hope that one day he would finally understand the reality of her actions. She wanted him to realize that her small acts of kindness came purely from genuine appreciation for the times he had helped her, and nothing beyond that.

​She had no hidden motives, no sneaky schemes to gain his wealth, and zero intention of trapping him into a real marriage.

​She was simply trying to express her gratitude like any decent human being would.

​The two days that followed were cold, quiet, and unbearable.

​Both of them made a conscious effort to stay as far apart as possible. They avoided stepping into the same room, refused to exchange a single word of conversation, and deliberately avoided meeting each other’s eyes.

​Dorian made it a point to walk out of the manor early in the morning before she even opened her eyes. Veyra made sure to turn her back or leave the space the moment she heard his car return in the evening.

​They were living under the exact same roof, sharing the exact same master suite, and breathing the exact same air, yet the distance between them felt like oceans.

​It was an unstated, frozen conflict where neither side was willing to yield.

​Dorian refused to admit the real reason why he was rushing out of the house at the crack of dawn every morning. He repeatedly claimed to his driver that his early departures were due to urgent company meetings, stacked paperwork, and pressing corporate issues.

​Yet deep down, he knew he was telling himself another lie.

​The simple truth was that he could not bring himself to look at her face. He did not want to stand in front of her and feel the heavy, crushing weight of the lie he had spoken about that little glass bottle.

​Veyra similarly refused to acknowledge why she kept turning her back whenever he walked through the door. She tried to convince herself that she was merely worn out from long hours at her shop, buried under stress, and needing rest.

​Yet in her heart, she knew the real reason as well.

​She did not want to face his cold expression, nor did she want to deal with the bitter sting of his constant suspicion and rejection.

​So both of them chose the easy way out, hiding behind quiet walls and ignoring each other completely.

​Veyra took no joy in this uncomfortable state of affairs.

​She thoroughly disliked the heavy silence, the freezing atmosphere, and the constant tension lingering in the air of her own living space.

​Yet she knew Dorian held deep, stubborn misunderstandings regarding her character and intentions. He genuinely believed she was harboring romantic feelings for him, trying to slide into his life, and plotting to use her pregnancy as a weapon to bind him.

​She knew plain words would never break down his paranoid beliefs, so her only real option was to give him time and space until he saw the truth for himself.

​Until that day arrived, she was willing to endure the cold silence, no matter how uncomfortable it felt.

​By the third night of their silent conflict, Veyra’s phone vibrated softly against her nightstand.

​She was lying flat on her side of the wide bed, staring into the dark room. The main lights were switched off, leaving only the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains.

​She reached over, picked up the glowing phone, and opened her private group chat with her close friends.

​Mia: How are the new store layout designs coming along, Jade?

​Megan: Yes, please tell us! We are both so excited to see what you have planned for the space!

​Jade: They are almost completely finished. I came up with a few fresh structural ideas today, so I just need to tweak a few small details on the floor plan before showing you.

​Mia: That sounds amazing! When can we inspect the updated sketches?

​Jade: How about tomorrow morning? We can meet up at the store front around 10 AM.

​Megan: 10 AM works perfectly for my schedule!

​Mia: Count me in too! I will be there on time.

​Veyra quickly tapped out her brief reply on the touch screen.

​Same here. See you both tomorrow at 10 AM.

​She hit the send icon, set the phone back down on the wooden nightstand, and rolled over onto her back to stare up at the ceiling pattern.

​Tomorrow morning would bring a fresh start at the shop, work on the interior renovation, and time spent focusing on her design plans.

​She was genuinely looking forward to stepping out of this heavy house. It would give her something productive to pour her energy into, serving as a welcome distraction from the freezing atmosphere that filled the bedroom.

​Suddenly, the faint sound of footsteps echoed from down the hallway.

​The steps were steady and measured, slowly approaching the bedroom entrance from the main staircase.

​It was Dorian returning from his late hours at the office.

​Veyra’s heart gave a sudden, sharp jump against her ribs, and every single muscle in her body instantly tensed up.

​She felt zero desire to speak to him right now, no strength to handle his cold stares, and no energy to deal with the awkward tension that would inevitably fill the room the moment he walked through the door.

​Without wasting a single second, she grabbed the edge of the duvet, pulled it all the way up over her head, and curled herself into a tight ball beneath the thick blankets.

​She buried herself completely out of sight, determined to hide away until he went to sleep.