Shining Where He Can't Reach Free Preview

Rose Marshall had been in love for ten years before she found out the truth: all those years of living frugally and saving up to support her boyfriend’s PhD… had gone straight into her best friend’s pockets.

…

She never imagined that after spending over ten hours on a train to visit him, what she’d walk into would feel like a knife to the heart.

Her boyfriend—the one who had been with her since high school, who had sworn over and over that he’d grow old with her—was now strolling hand in hand with her best friend, Vivian Brown, under the shade of the plane trees.

Vivian’s belly had already started to show. She was pregnant.

It was like someone had dropped Rose into an ice bath. Every cell in her body froze, her limbs trembling uncontrollably.

She didn’t want to believe Ethan Walker had cheated. But those interlocked fingers and the way they looked at each other—syrupy sweet and intimately familiar—shattered her unshakable trust.

Ethan didn’t notice her. He and Vivian turned into the apartment building.

Rose stood alone in the blazing sun, feeling like a discarded child. Even the 104°F heat couldn’t thaw her frozen heart.

"Ethan Walker," she called out, refusing to back down.

Through the glass doors, she saw Ethan’s back go rigid. His arm shot away from Vivian’s like it had been spring-loaded.

Slowly, he turned around. His expression shifted wildly—from panic to embarrassment and everything in between.

He said something to Vivian. Vivian stayed where she was while Ethan came to Rose alone.

"Hey, Rose..."

He stood in front of her, awkward and guilty, like he’d just been caught red-handed. "Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I could’ve picked you up."

"I thought my arrival would be a surprise," Rose said bitterly. "Didn’t expect it to scare you instead."

Ethan looked at her with guilt all over his face. The Rose standing before him was nothing like the strong, proud woman he knew. She looked like a doll caught in the wind—empty, lifeless.

She had loved him for ten years. She used to be the light in his life. His family had struggled, and back in school, other students looked down on him, but Rose never did. She pushed him to chase his dreams. When he had no money, she gave him every dollar she’d saved from work after graduation. And when he left home, she took on the burden of caring for his parents without a second thought.

Ethan knew he owed her—more than he could ever repay.

"Rose, it’s too hot out here. Come inside and we’ll talk."

He reached for her arm.

Rose yanked herself back, flinging his hand away like it burned her.

Ethan froze.

Rose stared him down. "Ethan, just give me one honest answer. How long have you been with her?"

"Not long," he muttered.

"How long is not long?" Her voice shot up, sharp with rage and disbelief.

"A year," he said.

Rose staggered. Her face went completely pale.

"You still had the nerve to ask me for money?"

"I know it wasn’t right, Rose. But Vivian got pregnant—it wasn’t planned. We were desperate. And you know I’ve been buried in my thesis—I didn’t have time to work. That’s the only reason I asked."

As Rose stared at him, he suddenly felt like a stranger. So unfamiliar, it scared her.

"I sent you thirty thousand dollars over the past three years. I want every last cent back." Rose was kind, but her kindness was for people who treated her right.

Ethan panicked. "Are you trying to ruin me? I don’t have that kind of money!"

Tears welled up in Rose’s eyes. "Ethan, don’t push me."

Ethan’s tone softened. "Rose, this isn’t all my fault. I told you—I was lonely here. I needed someone. And you refused to live with me before marriage. I’m a man. Having a girlfriend like that felt like being single. So yeah, I slipped up with Vivian. But love doesn’t have a right or wrong. Since we weren’t meant to be, why not let me and Vivian be together?"

Rose actually laughed. "Fine. You two can have each other. But I want my money back. And after today, I never want to see either of you again."

She didn’t give him a chance to speak. Grabbing her suitcase, she turned and walked away.

Vivian, her so-called best friend, didn’t even try to explain. She couldn’t even meet Rose’s eyes.

Rose booked a return ticket on the next train out.

The breakup hit her like a heavy pour of liquor—leaving her dazed for days.

She’d never been a drinker, but now she spent every night in a bar, drowning her shattered nerves in alcohol.

"Dr. Marshall. Drinking’s bad for your health."

The voice was smooth and deep. A slender hand snatched the glass from hers.

Rose looked up through her drunken haze.

The man in front of her had a cool, elegant air—and a face that rivaled any A-list celebrity. But years of insomnia had left dark circles under his eyes. It didn’t take away from his looks. If anything, it made him even more dangerously attractive.

She recognized him. He was one of her patients—suffering from sleep disorders.

He’d always been tight-lipped about the cause, so she never prescribed nerve suppressants without fully understanding the situation. Instead, she gave him her number and told him to call whenever he couldn’t sleep.

They’d talked a few times late at night. It wasn’t nothing.

"Mr. Jefferson, I just got dumped," she slurred. Normally reserved, she now seemed desperate to tell the whole world.

Houston Jefferson paused, then said gently, "All you lost was someone who didn’t love you."

Something about that sentence made the dam inside her break. She sniffled, choking on her own tears.

"We were together ten years. We were supposed to get married this year. But now he’s with my best friend. My family’s been pushing for a wedding. I don’t even know what to tell them."

She clutched her head, yanking her hair so hard it made her scalp tingle—like the pain could drown out her heartbreak.

"Marry me," Houston said quietly.

Rose thought she must’ve lost her mind—there was no way she’d just heard what she thought she did. "Mr. Jefferson, what did you just say?"

"Rose, marry me. I may not have a PhD like your ex, but I’d never live off you. I’ll cover all the household expenses. You can use your income however you want. And I would never betray our marriage or do anything to humiliate you."

Under normal circumstances, if someone had proposed to her out of the blue like that, Rose—a woman who prided herself on her rationality—would’ve assumed he’d taken leave of his senses.

But now, with her heart in tatters thanks to Ethan, and her family breathing down her neck about marriage, Rose found herself wavering.

Almost without thinking, she nodded. "Mr. Jefferson, I’m willing to marry you. But I want to split the household expenses fifty-fifty. Equal status. And I want fifty percent say in all family decisions." If there wasn’t going to be love, she wanted equality.

Houston’s lips curled faintly. She worked at one of the top hospitals in the city, but that meager salary? No way it could cover half his lifestyle.

"I respect your terms," he said.

"So… should we go to the civil office now?"

"Sure," Houston agreed without hesitation.

…

The breeze blew gently as they arrived, and the wind only seemed to heighten the alcohol still swirling in Rose’s system.

She looked up at Houston in a daze. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit, dignified and composed. The white shirt underneath, paired with a blue diagonal-striped tie, gave his mature aura a surprising edge of youthful charm.

He looked just like a groom.

Houston, too, was sizing up Rose.

He’d seen her in a lab coat before—poised, focused, almost intimidating. But in casual clothes, she had a fragile softness that stirred something protective in him.

"Rose, I hope you understand—marrying me is for life. In my view, divorce doesn’t exist. Only death can end a marriage."

Rose’s cheeks were flushed, her steps still a little wobbly, but she nodded firmly. "Good. That’s exactly how I see it too."

Houston turned and walked inside.

Rose followed like a puppet on strings. They approached the marriage counter, filled out forms, took photos, went through every step, and finally received two marriage certificates.

"Congratulations," said the clerk warmly. "You two might be the most perfect match I’ve ever seen."

"Thank you," Rose mumbled, dazed.

Houston had clearly heard one too many compliments in his life—he didn’t even flinch at the praise. Cool and collected, he slipped the marriage certificate into the pocket of his suit, then strode confidently toward the exit with those long, evenly proportioned legs.

Rose had to jog to keep up. When Houston realized she’d fallen behind, he suddenly stopped to wait.

She caught up, slightly out of breath. "My legs are too short. I can’t run fast."

Houston’s gaze dropped to her legs. They were long, lean, and pale—better than most supermodels.

Without warning, he swept her up into his arms. "I’ll carry you."

The next morning, Rose woke up with a pounding headache.

The first thing she saw was a ridiculously handsome face. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. She instinctively threw back the covers to make sure she was fully clothed—and only then could she breathe again.

Houston was a light sleeper. Her panicked breathing woke him instantly, and he opened his dark, mesmerizing eyes.

Noticing her panic, he gently tapped her nose. "Relax, Rose. I wouldn’t waste my first time on a drunk."

She relaxed a little, but her eyes still held a wary edge.

Frowning, Houston reached for the marriage certificate on the nightstand and handed it to her. "We got married. Don’t tell me you forgot?"

Rose swallowed hard. Images from the night before flickered through her mind in fragments. She slumped, embarrassed.

"Regretting it already?" Houston asked.

Before she could shake her head, he added, "Well, it’s too late. You dragged me to the civil office. You’re responsible for me now. You can’t just wake up sober and pretend none of it happened. I’m not about to be some divorced man with baggage."

Rose puffed up her chest. "Don’t worry. I’ll take full responsibility."

But in her head, she was spiraling—What have I done? What if he turns out to be violent? Or a gold digger? Or worse… a narcissist?

Just then, her phone rang. The screen flashed: Ethan Walker.

She glanced awkwardly at Houston. "Um… it’s my ex."

"Darling," Houston said smoothly, "need my help?"

That one word—darling—snapped Rose back to her senses. She had a husband now. She couldn’t have anything to do with another man.

She declined the call.

But Ethan was relentless. The phone kept ringing.

Houston extended his hand. "Give it to me." There was a note of authority in his voice.

Rose hesitated, then placed the phone in his palm.

Houston answered the call. Ethan’s anxious voice came through, "Rose, you finally picked up. Something happened at home. Can you go check on my mom? My sister said she hasn’t been eating and even started coughing up blood. Can you take her to the hospital? Stay with her a few days? I’ll treat you to a nice dinner later."

"You done?" Houston’s voice cut in coldly.

Ethan was stunned silent for a moment. Then he exploded, "Who are you? Why do you have Rose’s phone?!"

Houston replied, "Rose broke up with you. Stop dragging her into your mess. She doesn’t owe you anything. If you bother her again, I’ll make sure you regret it."

He hung up—calm and elegant.

But a moment later, the phone rang again.

This time, Rose answered. "Ethan, we’re over. Your family’s problems are none of my business. Don’t ever call me again."

"Rose, who was that guy just now?" Ethan sounded furious.

"You don’t have the right to ask about my personal life anymore," she said coolly.

Ethan was momentarily speechless.

Then he let out a long sigh and said helplessly, "Rose, I know our breakup hit you hard. But please, don’t throw yourself away on some random guy. I’d feel awful."

"Ethan," she said, her voice like ice, "one more reminder—we’re not friends. We’re complete strangers now. Stay out of my life."

She hated him. Hated him.

Ethan tried one last angle. "Rose, your medical notes are still at my place. What, are you never going to come back for them?"

Rose’s heart faltered. Those notes—years of her hard work and dedication. It wasn’t something she could just leave behind.

Houston noticed the concern in her eyes. "Do you need something from his home?" he asked.

Rose nodded. "My medical notes."

"I’ll take you," Houston said.

Ethan’s voice came through the phone again. "And don’t forget to take my mom to the hospital."

Rose hung up on Ethan without hesitation.

A short while later, Houston pulled up in his sleek black Mercedes. About an hour later, the two of them arrived in front of a run-down apartment complex.

Houston eyed the dilapidated building with a frown. The reek of mixed garbage drifted out from the trash area, and grime was caked between the uneven stone slabs on the ground. For someone with OCD-level cleanliness like him, the scene instantly made his stomach churn.

Rose glanced back at him. "Why don’t you wait in the car?"

Houston nodded. "Yeah."

As soon as she turned away, he ducked into the car and shut the windows, finally managing to suppress the wave of nausea.

There was no elevator in the old building, so Rose ran up the stairs. Through the windshield, Houston watched her without blinking, a soft, indulgent smile touching his lips.

By the time she reached the seventh floor, Rose was panting. She knocked on the door to apartment 701. After a long wait, Ethan's sister finally answered.

"Rose, what took you so long?" Chloe Walker complained.

"I’m just here to pick up the stuff I left here," Rose said bluntly, not letting the girl get the wrong idea.

Chloe blinked. "But my brother said you were coming to take my mom to the hospital."

"I’m a psychiatrist," Rose said coldly. "Your mom’s condition is outside my scope."

Chloe scowled. "So now that you and my brother broke up, you’re just cutting ties?"

She started muttering, "It’s not like you and my brother even lived together. And he never hid the fact that he liked Vivian. He just didn’t want to hurt you since you were so into him. Was that really such a crime? Do you have to be so petty?"

Rose’s face darkened. From what she was hearing, Chloe had known about the affair all along—yet kept it from her, while happily accepting her help and support all year.

Without another word, Rose brushed past her and entered the study, dragging out a box of her precious handwritten medical notes.

Chloe grabbed her arm. "Since you’re already here, can’t you take my mom to the hospital too?"

Rose was done being the Walker family’s free on-call maid. She shook Chloe off sharply. "No."

"You’re a doctor! What kind of doctor just lets someone suffer?"

Rose stopped mid-step. Her professional oath wouldn’t let her walk away from a patient in need. A doctor’s duty was to ease suffering—even death row inmates had the right to treatment.

She turned back. "Where is she?"

Chloe opened the door to the her mom's bedroom. Through the gap, Rose saw Samantha Brooks sitting on the bed, her face pale and gaunt, eyes vacant. A dark, wet stain had spread beneath her on the floor—she’d wet herself. Something was very wrong.

Rose rushed in, setting aside her personal feelings, and began a full checkup—pupils, heartbeat, pulse. Then she turned and snapped at Chloe, furious.

"She’s in critical condition. Why the hell didn’t you take her to the hospital earlier?"

Chloe looked lost. "How was I supposed to know? I’m not a doctor! She was totally fine yesterday!"

"What do we do now?" Chloe stammered. She was just a college freshman and clearly panicking.

"Ask your brother," Rose said icily.

Chloe immediately called Ethan. After a few words, he told her to hand the phone to Rose.

Rose didn’t want to take it, but Chloe shoved it at her.

"Rose, my sister’s still young. She can’t handle this kind of thing. Just do what you think is best. I trust you. Please help my mom."

Rose let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh. "Ethan, what the hell did I do in a past life? Run over your dog? Burn down your house? Whatever bad karma I owe, I’ve paid it. I don’t owe you anything."

Ethan lowered his voice like he was trying to smooth things over. "Look, I know I messed up. But you’re a doctor. Walking away now? That’s not who you are. Karma’s a real thing, Rose."

"You’re disgusting," Rose growled through gritted teeth.

Half an hour later, Houston spotted Rose coming down the stairs—with Ethan’s mother slung on her back.

He jumped out of the car and ran over. "Let me."

He gently took Samantha from her, lifting her onto his back instead.

Chloe’s jaw dropped. Houston’s air of elegance, his strikingly beautiful face, the luxury car that had to cost over six figures—she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

"Rose, who is that? He looks rich. Is he single?"

Rose ignored her. Instead, she quickly opened the car door so Houston could carefully settle Samantha in the back seat.

Then Houston got into the driver’s seat. Rose started to open the passenger side door, but Chloe darted ahead.

"Rose, I get carsick. Can I sit in the front?"

Rose blinked. Since when did Chloe get carsick?

"That seat’s reserved for my wife." Houston’s cold voice cut through the air like a blade.

Chloe turned bright red and climbed out, reluctantly taking the back seat.

But when she saw Rose slide into the passenger seat, she froze.

"Why does she get to sit there?" she muttered.

Too bad neither Rose nor Houston bothered responding.

At the hospital, Rose used her credentials to get Samantha admitted quickly. But when it came time to pay the bill, Chloe didn’t budge.

Rose handed her the receipt. "Go pay."

Chloe gawked. "I don’t have any money. Can’t you just finish what you started…?"

Out of habit, Rose reached into her bag to pull out her card—but Houston placed his hand over hers.

His voice was low and forceful. "If you’re broke, go ask your brother. Rose doesn’t owe you anything. You’re not her family. You’ve gotten all the help you’re going to get. Rose, let’s go."

Chloe flushed with shame.

By the time Rose and Houston left the hospital, the sun was beating down fiercely.

Houston got a call from his company and looked at her apologetically. "Rose, the chairman just dropped in. I’m really sorry—I’ve got to head in right now."

As someone who also worked for a rigid system, Rose understood. She waved him off generously. "Don’t worry about me. Go. I’ll talk to you later."

Houston handed her his keys. "Take my car home. I’ll come pick you up later. At our place."

Then he turned and hurried across the street to the crowded bus stop.

Rose stared after him, dumbfounded. When she saw his tall figure squeezed awkwardly into an overpacked bus, something in her chest stirred unexpectedly.

Rose drove the Mercedes back to the Bloomingdale Residence, parked it in the garage, and took the elevator upstairs. She was hoping to sneak in quietly, but the moment she opened the door, she found her mother—Linda Smith—standing right there.

"Rose, you’re home!" Linda yanked her straight to the couch, then launched into a barrage of questions.

"So? How did it go with Ethan? Did he finally agree to a New Year’s Day wedding?"

Rose looked at her mother’s hopeful face and didn’t know how to break it to her.

"Mom… there’s no wedding."

Linda threw up her hands. "What do you mean there’s no wedding? You promised me before you left that you’d get Ethan to say yes this time. I already told everyone—friends, family—the whole New Year’s Day celebration is on the books! Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for me?"

Rose kept her head down in silence.

Linda’s voice rose. "We’ve made every compromise. We didn’t ask for anything like a new house—we’re practically giving our daughter away for free. What more does that boy want? Rose, call him. Right now. I want to hear from him directly—when the hell does he plan to marry you?"

Rose squirmed with discomfort. She and Ethan had broken up. Contacting him again wasn’t even on her radar.

Seeing her hesitating only made Linda angrier. "That Ethan’s been stringing you along for years. If he really loved you, he could’ve married you before going off for his PhD!"

Rose’s face burned.

Her mom was right—Ethan never loved her the way she’d hoped. She’d been too stubborn, too proud, convinced that since she’d chosen him, he was the one. But love changes. He had already run away.

"Mom… maybe I should just break up with him…" Rose tested the waters carefully.

Linda’s fury exploded. She grabbed Rose by the ear and yelled, "Are you insane? You supported that man for ten years—fed him, paid his tuition, carried him through school—and now that he’s finally about to start making money, you dump him? What, you want all those years to be a total waste? And let’s be honest—you’re not exactly twenty anymore. Where do you think you’re going to find someone better than him?"

Just then, Rose’s father—Sam Marshall—walked through the door holding a wedding invitation. When he saw Linda’s sour face, he froze.

Linda spotted the invitation and exploded again. "What are you doing with that? We don’t need it anymore. Toss it."

But Sam held it to his chest like it was gold. "Relax. It’s not ours. It’s from Aaron Brown, next door."

Then he adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and added excitedly, "Vivian—Rose’s best friend—snagged herself a golden goose. Aaron was bragging nonstop about how his daughter might not have a degree, but she landed a man who does. And get this—she’s already pregnant. They’re getting engaged on New Year’s Day."

It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over Rose’s head. Ethan and Vivian… were getting married on New Year’s Day?

She’d spent ten years with Ethan. Every time she brought up marriage, he had an excuse. But with Vivian, after one year, he was ready to settle down?

Did he ever love her at all?

Linda, already on edge, lost it. "Look at Vivian! She still ended up with a PhD husband and is getting married after one year. And you? I don’t care what you say. You and Ethan are getting married on New Year’s Day."

Sam tried to play peacemaker. "That’s right. I already talked to Aaron—we’ll hold a joint wedding. Make it festive, big and bold!"

"Dad, Mom, I don’t want to get married on New Year’s Day." Rose’s voice was firm.

The second she said it, Linda practically had a meltdown. "If you’re not getting married on New Year’s Day, then don’t bother calling me your mother!"

The outburst triggered her heart condition. Her lips turned visibly blue. Rose was so frightened she couldn’t say another word.

Panicked, she gave in. "Okay, Mom. Don’t get worked up. I promise—I’ll get married on New Year’s Day."

The effect was instant. Linda’s condition stabilized almost immediately.

Later, once Linda had fallen asleep, Rose crept back to her room, weighed down with worry. She flopped onto the bed, her head spinning over the idea of a wedding on New Year’s Day.

Would Houston even want a ceremony?

She couldn’t help remembering all the times she had begged Ethan to marry her—each conversation painful and humiliating. She had absolutely no confidence this time.

Just then, as if summoned by her thoughts, her phone rang. It was Houston.

She picked up, and his deep, velvety voice came through, sounding cheerful. "Rose, I’m outside your place. I came to take you home."

She nearly dropped her phone. That’s right—he’d told her earlier he’d pick her up after work.

But she hadn’t told her parents about the marriage yet.

Rushing to the front door, she whispered to him, "My mom’s heart acted up earlier… Maybe don’t mention the wedding just yet."

Houston paused. Was she asking him to hide their marriage?

Linda’s weak voice called out from the living room. "Rose, who’s here?"

"A patient," Rose lied quickly.

Sam helped Linda out to the living room. Both of them froze when they saw Houston standing there with high-end gifts in hand.

A luxury bottle of whiskey—Sam’s favorite. Expensive tonic supplements—Linda’s go-to.

This was supposed to be a patient bribing their daughter?

"Mr. Jefferson…" Linda said awkwardly. "We’re just regular folks. Rose finally got a good job, so please don’t bring gifts. If her company thinks she’s accepting bribes, it could cost her everything."

Houston shot Rose a sharp look. Because of her lie, Linda now thought he was a pushy patient trying to butter them up.

He had never bribed anyone in his life—people usually tried to bribe him.

"Madam," he said coldly, "yes, I’m Dr. Marshall’s patient. But we’re also friends. These are just small gifts—my way of being polite as a guest."

The tension in Linda’s chest eased. Smiling now, she said, "Well, if you’re Rose’s friend, then stay for dinner!"

"Gladly," Houston replied.

Linda was stunned.

She’d only said it to be polite—how did he actually agree?

Turning to Rose, she sighed, "Since your friend’s staying, make something nice for dinner. There’s abalone, lobster, beef—cook it all."

Sam, meanwhile, pulled Houston toward the couch. "Come on, Houston. Sit, sit."

Rose gave Houston a worried glance. Her parents had always been tough on any man who came near her. Who knew what kind of test they’d throw at him next?

"I’ll go start cooking, then." Rose headed toward the kitchen, throwing anxious glances back at her parents, who were clearly being overly warm to Houston. She felt a pang of worry for him.

She took pork ribs, fish, and shrimp out of the fridge… but as she weighed the ingredients, a sharp clarity hit her like a splash of cold water.

Baby back ribs, Cajun blackened fish, garlic butter shrimp—those were all Ethan’s favorites.

But this meal wasn’t for Ethan. It was for her new husband, Houston.

Rose put everything back and instead prepared a bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup with a few simple farmer’s market sides—roasted carrots, sautéed greens, nothing fancy, but comforting and nourishing.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Sam and Linda sat across from Houston, all four eyes sharply inspecting him.

They’d always believed that any man who came to their house looking for Rose was just trying to make a move on her.

Now that Rose was supposedly engaged, their default approach to male visitors was simple: block, dismantle, and destroy.

"Houston," Linda began, "Rose and Ethan are getting married on New Year’s Day. You must come to the wedding."

Houston’s smile curved upward. His wife marrying another man? And he was expected to attend as a guest? Sorry—he wasn’t that open-minded.

"New Year’s Day?" he repeated. "What a coincidence. I’m getting married that day too."

Of course he’d be at the wedding. He was the groom.

Linda glanced at Houston’s bare finger and a flicker of suspicion crossed her face.

"Well, what are the odds? Houston, be sure to send me an invitation. I’d love to attend your wedding."

Houston smiled and shot back, "Then I’ll take one of Rose’s invitations too."

"Sam, the invites," Linda said quickly.

Sam opened the drawer of the coffee table and handed him a pre-printed wedding invitation.

Houston accepted it with both hands. His eyes narrowed as they landed on the names: Ethan and Rose, surrounded by a little heart with the words Forever Together.

His smile vanished.

So it really had gotten that far between her and Ethan?

Houston was fiercely competitive. Ethan was part of Rose’s past—but there was no way he’d allow himself to lose to that man.

"Well, looks like Ethan finally came to his senses. Congrats to Rose. She finally got what she wanted." He deliberately emphasized finally, highlighting how long Ethan had dragged her through the mud.

Sam and Linda’s expressions darkened. Their resentment toward Ethan flared again.

"Where’s the wedding being held?" Houston pressed.

Their faces fell even further. The truth was, the Marshalls were footing the entire bill. If word got out, it’d make Rose look desperate.

"Rosewood Estate," Sam muttered. He’d picked the venue himself—a budget-friendly place with a classic touch.

Houston frowned. "Rosewood? That place is leftover colonial architecture from the last century. Only hosts budget weddings. Nothing special except the low price. Rose deserves better than that."

Sam and Linda lowered their heads, guilt setting in.

Houston had just dragged Ethan’s name through the dirt, and his smug, cold gaze sparkled with calculated triumph.

When Rose came out with the food, she found her parents looking defeated and Houston sitting there like he’d just won a war.

She blinked in confusion. Her parents—usually iron-willed interrogators—had lost to the quiet Houston?

Linda looked at the table and frowned. "Rose, didn’t I tell you to make the seafood? How could you serve this to a guest?"

Calling him a guest—there was distance in that word.

Rose explained, "Houston has severe stomach issues. He can’t handle rich food."

Linda fell quiet.

Houston looked at the chicken noodle soup on the table—perfectly balanced for digestive support. The colorful vegetables, the careful seasoning—it was simple, but obviously prepared with thoughtful care.

His heart warmed. He had only casually mentioned his stomach problems during a clinic visit, but Rose had remembered. She really was a gentle, thoughtful woman.

He pulled out a chair and sat down naturally.

When Rose joined him, she also sat beside him—just as naturally.

Linda and Sam exchanged a glance. A silent question hung between them.

"Rose, how do you know Houston has stomach problems?" Linda asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

Rose nearly choked. "He… he’s one of my patients."

"You’re in psych, aren’t you? Since when does a psych doctor treat stomach problems?" Linda pushed.

Rose explained, "A lot of psychiatric patients have gastrointestinal issues. It’s common."

Linda finally let it go, giving Houston a sympathetic look.

"Don’t worry, Houston. My daughter might be young, but she’s very skilled. I’m sure she’ll cure you in no time." She emphasized the doctor-patient relationship.

Houston looked at Rose and nodded. "I believe in her."

Dinner was tense. Sam and Linda kept circling back to the idea that Rose was marrying Ethan—not Houston. Meanwhile, Houston took every opportunity to throw shade at the so-called groom-to-be.

When the meal was finally over, Rose exhaled heavily. While her parents washed the dishes, she leaned over to Houston and quietly said, "Time for you to go."

Houston blinked. "And what about you?"

Rose whispered, "You saw how hard they’re guarding me. There’s no way I’m getting out tonight."

"So when are you coming home?" Houston frowned.

She hesitated.

He leaned in, lips brushing her ear, and murmured, "Don’t forget, I’m a normal man. I didn’t marry you to sleep alone."

Her ears flushed red. Embarrassed, she nodded. "I’ll come back soon."

Houston stood, turned to her parents, and said politely, "Mr. Sam, Madam Linda, I’m heading out. Thank you for dinner."

Sam called out cheerfully, "Take care now!"

"I’ll walk him out," Rose added quickly.

Her parents froze.

Outside, the two of them walked side-by-side through the dim little path behind the complex.

Suddenly, Houston stopped and held out his hand.

Rose flinched. Physical intimacy always made her nervous. Even with Ethan, their relationship had been practically platonic in the beginning. The first time he tried to kiss her, she’d slapped him on reflex—left him stunned and sulking. Ever since then, Ethan never touched her without asking first.

When she didn’t move, Houston just grabbed her hand and pulled it into his.

They walked like that—quiet, hand-in-hand.

Rose felt like she was someone’s pet, following obediently behind.

At the parking lot, Houston turned and wrapped his arms around her narrow shoulders. His sharp eyes glowed with a rare softness.

"Darling, let me hold you."