*Chapter 12: The Thorn in Her Heart *
Morning sunlight spilled softly into the kitchen, but Li Xue felt no warmth from it. She moved carefully, preparing breakfast as though each movement might shatter the fragile silence in the penthouse.
When Zhao Liang walked in, her heart stumbled at the sight of him. There was no smile, no greeting — only the cold, steady presence that had become her daily torment. She set a bowl of congee before him, hands trembling as she whispered, "Good morning."
He didn't reply. He lifted the spoon, took one bite, then set it down with an expression of distaste. "Too bland."
Her throat tightened. "I can make another—"
"Don't bother," he cut in sharply, his voice laced with indifference.
It was a quiet dismissal, but its cruelty struck deeper than any shout could. Li Xue sat frozen in her chair, staring at the bowl between them as though it held the remains of her dignity.
From the corner of her eye, she caught the faintest shift in his expression. For a heartbeat, his gaze softened — not with affection, but with something fragile, fleeting. Recognition? Regret? She couldn't name it.
But just as quickly, he blinked, and the cold mask returned.
He pushed away from the table, rising with effortless elegance. "Don't waste your time pretending this is a marriage."
Her breath caught, a thousand words choking in her throat, but none dared escape. She watched his retreating figure until he disappeared into the hall, leaving behind nothing but silence and the bitter taste of rejection.
Clutching her hands together, Li Xue whispered into the emptiness, Then what am I pretending for?
And though no answer came, the ache in her chest deepened, a thorn pressing further into her fragile heart.