CHAPTER 61: CHAPTER 61: A MONUMENTAL "MISUNDERSTANDING" (PART 2)

This kind of day lasted for three days.

Every evening, Blake Sinclair would still cook for her, the dishes on the table were all her favorites, and fresh flowers would be delivered regularly.

But she still felt that something had changed.

He no longer chatted with her before bedtime as he used to, and the goodnight kiss he once asked for was gone.

These past few days, he always waited until she was asleep to go to bed, and by the time she woke up in the morning, he was already out of the room.

He was still as gentle and considerate as before, but there was an intentional distance.

He seemed to be... avoiding her.

When Holly Crowe told Celia Stiles about this, she was just as confused.

Her voice over the phone was noticeably louder: "What is President Sinclair up to? Weren’t you two happy together just a few days ago? Why is he suddenly avoiding you?"

Holly sat on the sofa, looked at the bouquet of pink lilies in the vase, and smiled to herself ironically, "Maybe... he was never good to me, just nice to ’Mrs. Sinclair.’

And it just so happened that she became Mrs. Sinclair, nothing more.

They got married out of necessity, so she shouldn’t expect too much.

"Senior, don’t overthink it," Celia comforted her over the phone, "Blake Sinclair doesn’t seem like that kind of person."

Holly shook her head and quietly said into the phone, "It’s okay, it’s fine this way."

"Then are you going to stay like this forever?"

"I don’t know." Holly gazed out the window, her eyes filled with confusion.

She thought of the night before they got their marriage certificate, when Blake Sinclair held her hand and said, "Our future is what matters..."

But now, that "future" seemed to be getting further and further away, becoming more and more blurred...

...

After ending the call with Celia, Holly went back to her room and took a nap until she was woken up by a phone call.

The moment she saw the word "Mom" flashing on the screen, she sensed trouble!

Sure enough, as soon as the call was connected, the voice on the other end started scolding, "Holly! How could you not tell the family about something as big as getting married? If it weren’t for your college classmate slipping up, how long were you planning to keep it a secret?"

In the background, she could faintly hear her father trying to cautiously persuade her mother, but his voice was quickly drowned out.

Holly instinctively moved the phone a little farther away, put it on speaker, and placed it next to her pillow.

"It’s not like that, Mom, listen to me, it’s not, listen to me explain... I didn’t plan to hide it from you, I just wanted to tell you a little later..."

"Tell us later? It’s not like we don’t know about you and Zion Pence, what’s there to hide from us..."

Holly clicked her tongue, enduring the anger from her mother’s side, and cautiously spoke up, "Well... I... I didn’t marry Zion Pence..."

The line went silent for a few seconds.

Holly quietly shifted to the side, and sure enough, the next second, the call exploded.

"What! Not married to Zion Pence? Then who are you married to? What’s going on? You better bring him home tomorrow, no matter what!"

Holly curled up with her blanket and inched toward the phone. She opened her mouth and instinctively looked toward the door.

Blake Sinclair hadn’t spoken properly with her for three days.

She bit her lip and whispered, "Mom, he might not be available..."

"Not available?"

The voice on the phone rose suddenly, "You’ve already got the marriage certificate, and he doesn’t even have time to meet the family? You must come back tomorrow, your dad and I have already taken leave! This is the final warning!!"

After the call ended, Holly clutched her phone, kicked her legs twice on the bed, and let out a silent scream.

With a disciplinarian mother like this, what could she do?

How was she supposed to say it?

Could she really say, "Mom, my husband and I haven’t talked for three days, and now he doesn’t even want to look at me"?

... That’s ridiculous.

Who would believe that?

She let out a long sigh and got out of bed.

In the living room, Blake Sinclair had just set the food on the table.

During dinner, he remained silent.

Holly sneaked a glance at him, wanting to speak, but swallowed the words back.

He probably... doesn’t want to go either.

After taking a bath at night, Holly lay on the bed, scrolling through her phone absentmindedly, but kept her ears alert.

The sound of the shower stopped, but Blake Sinclair’s footsteps still headed toward the study.

Holly turned over and buried her face in the pillow.

So annoying, let it be.

After all, they couldn’t kill her, she was their own daughter.

But the thought of explaining the whole situation, her head ached.

....

The next morning, Holly was woken up by noises from the kitchen.

After freshening up, she walked out of the bedroom and was stunned by the sight in the kitchen.

Blake Sinclair was wearing matching loungewear, frying eggs at the stove, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his lean forearms.

Holly rubbed her eyes, thinking she was still dreaming.

"Awake?" Blake turned around at the sound, "Do you want the eggs runny or fully cooked?"

Holly: "...."

They hadn’t had a normal conversation like this for three days.

"... Fully cooked, thanks."

Suddenly remembering something, she cautiously asked, "Why are you cooking? Don’t you have to go to the office today?"

Blake turned off the stove and turned around, sunlight casting a faint glow over his features, spreading an aura of subtle melancholy.

"If I don’t show off in the kitchen a bit, Mrs. Sinclair might forget she even has a husband."

His voice carried a subtle rasp, and Holly inexplicably heard a trace of... grievance?

Her cheeks felt warm, and she stood there awkwardly.

Blake placed the prepared breakfast on the table.

He slowly walked to her, his gaze deep and penetrating, "Holly, don’t you have anything to say to me?"

Holly froze.

Say what?

Tell him her parents want to meet him?

Or admit she cared about... his deliberate distance?

She opened her mouth, the words swirling in her throat before finally turning into a silent sigh.

Watching her dilemma, the tension in Blake’s chest suddenly dissipated.

He sighed, pulling her into his arms, resting his chin on her head, his voice soft, "I’m sorry, I’ve been in a bad mood these past few days. I won’t do this again."

What more could he ask for?

She was already his.

If anyone’s to blame, it’s himself for not trying hard enough.

Holly’s body stiffened instantly, her ears filled with the sound of his steady heartbeat.

He was... apologizing?

Why?

Blake released her, his fingers gently rubbing her back, and tentatively asked, "Were you upset because I announced our relationship without asking you?"

"Huh?" Holly was even more confused.

What?

"I wasn’t mad... weren’t you the one who was angry?"

Blake was taken aback.

Time seemed to freeze for a few seconds.

Seeing the confusion in her eyes, he finally realized.

All this time, the things he’d been tormenting himself over — "Is she still thinking about Zion Pence," "Does she not care about me," "Does she want a divorce" — were all his own misunderstandings?

These past days, he’d been stuck in his own head?

What a misunderstanding.

He couldn’t help but chuckle lowly, a hint of self-mockery mixed with a significant sense of relief.

From his expression, Holly also realized what had happened, shooting him a sidelong glance, "So you were avoiding me these past few days because you thought I was angry? Is that how you see me?"

"My apologies."

He admitted his mistake right away, instantly becoming contrite.

Seeing the frustration in his eyes, Holly’s long-simmering annoyance suddenly dissipated, and she even felt a bit amused.

"It’s my fault. I made breakfast for you as an apology, it’s all your favorite."

Blake led her to the dining table, placing the freshly cooked porridge in front of her.

The morning light spilled over the dining table, and Holly lowered her head to sip the porridge.

Even though she didn’t look up, she could still feel the gaze burning above her.

It was too intense to ignore.

Finally, she couldn’t resist looking up, only to meet his gaze, in which she inexplicably read... anticipation?