As Andrew left Eva’s room, the atmosphere in the mansion remained heavy, like the lingering remnants of a storm. He closed the door behind him softly, the echo of it traveling down the long corridors of the King estate. His thoughts were a chaotic mess, swirling with frustration, anger, and something else he didn’t want to acknowledge—curiosity.

Irene quietly slipped into Eva’s room shortly after Andrew left, her heart aching at the sight of her sister-in-law. Eva stirred, slowly regaining consciousness, her eyelids fluttering open. Irene, her expression gentle, moved closer.

“Let me help you change into something more comfortable,” Irene whispered, careful not to startle Eva in her weakened state.

Eva nodded weakly, barely able to lift herself from the bed. Irene quickly called for the maid, asking her to bring warm water and towels. Together, they carefully cleaned Eva, wiping away the remnants of the day’s chaos, trying to soothe her body as well as her spirit.

The cool touch of the water against her skin and the gentle strokes of the towel brought a sense of comfort that Eva hadn’t realized she needed. Her body, exhausted from the emotional and physical strain, began to relax. The maid helped her into a soft nightgown, and as Irene tucked her back into the bed, Eva fell into a light sleep once again.

But the peace was short-lived.

The door creaked open, and Andrew walked in, his expression unreadable. Irene’s heart skipped a beat at the coldness that emanated from him. He didn’t even glance her way as he stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Eva’s still form.

“Leave,” he said, his voice sharp, barely above a whisper, but filled with authority.

Irene hesitated, casting a worried glance at Eva, who remained asleep, unaware of the tension filling the room. Irene knew better than to defy Andrew, so with a sigh, she nodded to the maid, and the two quietly exited the room.

Once they were gone, Andrew stood at the edge of the bed, staring down at Eva. She looked peaceful, almost angelic, her dark hair spilling across the pillow, her delicate features softened by sleep. Her cheeks still bore the faint redness from where she had been slapped, and Andrew found himself lingering on the bruise, his anger momentarily overshadowed by guilt.

“How could someone like her be innocent?” he wondered, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of deception. “Does she truly have nothing to do with Jessica’s schemes?”

Andrew’s thoughts warred within him. He wanted to believe that Eva was just as guilty as Jessica. It was easier that way. If he could channel his rage toward her, it would numb the pain of Jessica’s betrayal. But as he stood there, watching her, a part of him—a small, buried part—wanted to believe otherwise. Her vulnerability stirred something deep within him, something he didn’t want to feel.

“If I find out she’s involved...” Andrew’s jaw clenched. “God himself won’t be able to save her.”

For a long moment, Andrew stayed in the room, his gaze never leaving her. His mind was filled with conflicting thoughts—an odd mixture of suspicion and reluctant admiration. There was no denying that Eva was beautiful. Her innocence radiated from her even in her sleep, her beauty both striking and delicate.

And yet, Andrew couldn’t shake the gnawing doubt inside him. His trust had been shattered once, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again. Jessica’s betrayal had scarred him deeply, and now that same wound was threatening to consume his marriage to Eva.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Andrew turned and silently left the room, closing the door behind him.

Eva stirred slightly in her sleep, unaware of the inner turmoil raging within her new husband. She remained peaceful, untouched by the storm building around her.

What neither Eva nor Andrew knew was that true love, true partnership, doesn’t come from two perfect people coming together in perfect harmony. It comes from two imperfect souls learning to navigate each other’s differences, growing together despite the flaws and the pain.

But for now, the road ahead seemed long and uncertain.

Down the hall, Irene stood near the entrance of the room, her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall, deep in thought. She had seen the look in Andrew’s eyes—cold, but conflicted. Irene knew her brother well enough to understand that he was hurting, lashing out at Eva because he didn’t know how to cope with his pain. But Eva wasn’t Jessica, and Irene was determined to make him realize that.

“This isn’t fair,” Irene muttered to herself, her heart heavy with concern for both Andrew and Eva. “Eva doesn’t deserve this.”

She resolved to speak to Andrew soon, to help him see past his anger. But for now, all she could do was hope that he wouldn’t destroy everything before giving this marriage a real chance.

Eva remained asleep, unaware of the battles being fought both within and around her. She had entered this marriage with a heavy heart, bound by duty and circumstance, but somewhere deep inside, she clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could change.

For now, though, the storm between them continued to rage, threatening to tear them both apart before they even had the chance to come together.