His fingers twitched.
Not just a little twitch—more like they were ready to grab the woman beside him and pull her into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.
His body burned with impulse, but his brain screamed: Stop!
No. Absolutely not.
We're getting divorced, he reminded himself, I can't touch her. Not again.
If he crossed that line now, things would only spiral further out of control.
Ethan knew himself. He wasn't someone who could fake indifference after something like that. And he had a gut feeling—if he gave in now, he'd lose whatever emotional distance he had left.
So he flipped over abruptly, back to Hailey, trying to shut off the thoughts, the images, the scent still clinging to his senses.
Just sleep. Sleep, damn it.
But then, like fate was playing a cruel joke, Hailey stirred in her sleep and rolled over too—toward him.
He didn't have to look.
He knew she was closer now. Close enough that if he turned his head, their noses might touch.
He could feel her breath. Soft, sweet, unmistakably feminine. It tickled the back of his neck like a whisper made of rose petals.
And just like that, all the control he'd fought for began to fray at the edges again.
The room was air-conditioned, and yet it felt like the temperature was rising with every second.
His body was overheating.
His mind was starting to go blank.
Damn it.
With a sudden, frustrated groan, Ethan threw back the covers and stormed toward the balcony.
He needed air.
Cool air.
Space.
Sanity.
He shoved the sliding door open and stepped into the night, letting the breeze slap against his skin as he lit a cigarette with trembling fingers.
The wind was cold, and his shirt did little to protect him—but that was exactly what he needed.
He leaned over the railing, eyes on the moonlit skyline.
Gradually, the tension in his chest eased.
The craving faded.
His mind cleared.
And just like that… he wasn't going back to bed.
Not tonight.
The next morning, Hailey woke up glowing.
She stretched like a lazy cat, arching her back with a satisfied little sigh.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she'd actually slept through the night. No nightmares. No tossing or turning. Just deep, uninterrupted rest.
She rubbed her eyes and smiled to herself. "That incense worked wonders…"
Last night, Mrs. He had given her a small pouch of sleep-enhancing aromatherapy. Hailey hadn't thought much of it—probably one of those weird herbal tricks rich ladies swore by—but apparently, it was the real deal.
As she sat up, the door to the ensuite bathroom creaked open.
Ethan stepped out, towel around his neck, still slightly damp from his shower.
Their eyes met.
She gave him a polite nod and a soft, "Morning."
He didn't respond.
Didn't even blink.
Just stalked across the room, flung open the wardrobe, and started yanking clothes out like they'd personally offended him.
Hailey blinked.
Okay then. Someone's cranky.
She arched an eyebrow but didn't say a word.
Whatever. Not my problem.
Ethan dressed quickly, ignoring her completely, and stormed out of the room like a man with a vendetta against breakfast.
Downstairs, Mrs. He was already seated at the dining table, enjoying her eggs and toast with the poise of a woman who believed everything was going exactly according to plan.
The moment she saw her son enter the room, her eyes sparkled.
"Come, come," she called cheerfully. "It's been ages since we had breakfast together!"
Ethan didn't move.
He stood at the threshold, tall and brooding, his expression thunderous.
"What did you put in our room last night?" he asked flatly.
Mrs. He's smile widened with delight. "Oh? Couldn't sleep?"
His glare deepened. "Thanks to you, I didn't sleep a wink."
And just like that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the house.
"Ethan—! Breakfast!" she called after him.
But he didn't look back.
Didn't even slow down.
Mrs. He chuckled, utterly unbothered. Didn't sleep a wink? That could only mean one thing.
Success!
Grandchild Project: Phase One was clearly underway.
Moments later, Hailey bounced into the dining room, humming to herself.
"Morning, Mom," she greeted cheerfully, plopping into the seat across from her and reaching for a glass of milk.
Mrs. He narrowed her eyes in mock curiosity. "So… how did you sleep last night?"
Hailey beamed. "Like a baby."
"You did?"
"Mm-hmm," she nodded, taking a sip of her drink. "That incense you gave me? Amazing. I didn't even dream. Just pure, uninterrupted sleep. I feel ten years younger."
She meant it too.
Ever since her… second chance, she hadn't had a single decent night's rest. Every time she closed her eyes, old memories and new fears would tangle into restless dreams.
But last night?
She hadn't moved once.
Mrs. He's smile froze just a little. "You… slept through the whole night?"
"Yep! Straight until morning. You have to tell me where you got that stuff—I want to use it every night."
Mrs. He stared at her, dumbfounded.
Wait a minute…
If she slept like a baby… and he didn't sleep at all…
Hailey cheerfully buttered a piece of toast, completely oblivious to the existential crisis brewing across the table.
Mrs. He's plan might not have gone exactly the way she intended…
But something had definitely happened.
And she wasn't about to give up yet.
To be continued…