He was dressed entirely in black today: a black shirt, black suit, and a long black overcoat. The simple, well-tailored design gave him a dignified and solemn aura, and the somber black seemed to amplify his already commanding presence.
As he approached, it felt as though a gust of wind swept toward her. Thelma shivered instinctively.
“Let me carry those for you,” he said as he stepped forward.
Thelma felt a sense of awe around him. His presence was overwhelming, and even when he smiled, it was enough to make her feel subdued. Keeping her head low, she replied, “Follow me.”
She turned and walked ahead, leading the way. Behind the hotel, there was a small residential building where she and Samantha lived. The house was spacious, once home to their extended family, but now, with just the two of them, it felt far too empty.
Walking in front while he trailed behind, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling of his presence. Facing him always left her feeling out of sorts. It was infuriating how much his presence unsettled her.
Just yesterday, he had been a stranger to her. But now, he was her husband. The feeling was strange and complicated.
She packed two bags: one large, one small. Handing him the larger one, she said, “You can carry this one. I’ll take the smaller one.”
But instead of taking the bag, he removed his long overcoat and handed it to her. Thelma blinked in surprise as she took it, watching as he effortlessly picked up both bags, one in each hand, and headed out.
He looked so poised and meticulous, exuding the air of a young master accustomed to a life of ease and luxury. Seeing him do manual labor felt oddly out of place, yet Thelma couldn’t help but notice how naturally strong he was, lifting the heavy bags with ease while maintaining perfect posture.
After loading the bags into the trunk, Thelma reached for the car door, but Sam Noah opened the passenger door and said, “Sit here.”
Thelma: “…”
So, he had driven himself here today. She thanked him and got into the passenger seat. Noticing his coat still in her arms, she asked, “Do you want to put this back on?”
“No, you hold onto it for now,” he replied, starting the car.
The drive took about 40 minutes. Thelma found herself growing bored, though her primary feeling was the inexplicable nervousness that came with being alone with Sam Noah. To distract herself, she played on her phone. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of him—there was a faint smile on his lips.
He seemed to be in an unusually good mood.
The car eventually arrived at a suburban area in the District of Louisiana, at a place called “Greenfield Villas.” It was a villa community with lush greenery and several artificial lakes scattered throughout the estate. This must have been a recent development because, in Thelma’s memory, this area had been nothing but barren land.
The car stopped in front of a villa. The stone wall by the gate bore a plaque engraved with the character “Noah.” A housekeeper wearing an apron opened the gate, and the car slowly drove inside. The villa had its own front and backyards. In North City, where land was so expensive, even in the suburbs, owning such a villa must have cost a fortune.
Sam Noah parked in the garage, which housed about 20 cars of various sizes. Though Thelma didn’t recognize most of the brands, she could tell that these vehicles were anything but cheap.
Her father had bought a villa and a few nice cars after his restaurant became successful, but they couldn’t compare to what she saw here.
Two housekeepers approached them respectfully, asking if they needed help with the luggage. Sam Noah instructed them to bring the bags inside.
He led Thelma upstairs to the second floor, where the housekeepers had already placed her bags in a room and were waiting at the door for further instructions.
“This is your room,” Sam Noah said.
Thelma stepped inside. The room was spacious and tidy, with a large window offering a view of the lake outside. On the lake’s surface, two white cranes were drinking water. The scenery was as picturesque as a painting.
The room felt vaguely familiar, like the one from her fragmented memories. It wasn’t entirely foreign.
Judging by the situation, it seemed she and Sam Noah didn’t have the best relationship—they even had separate bedrooms. But for her, that was a relief.
Sam Noah introduced the housekeepers: the slim and neat-looking one was Mrs. Smith, who handled grocery shopping and cooking, while the slightly plump and rougher-looking one was Aunt Hope, who was in charge of cleaning. There was also a gardener who came once a week.
“This is your home. Make yourself comfortable,” Sam Noah said to her.
Standing there, Thelma still felt as though she were dreaming. Hearing his words, she simply nodded absentmindedly. Sam Noah gave a few more instructions before leaving, mentioning he had work to handle at the company. He left the task of familiarizing her with the house to Mrs. Smith and Aunt Hope.
The villa had three floors. The first floor housed the kitchen, living room, dining room, and two guest rooms where the housekeepers lived. The second floor had bedrooms and a study. The third floor was smaller, with a loft and a large terrace for drying clothes.
The backyard featured a lake, pavilions, and rock gardens, blending traditional American landscaping with modern aesthetics. Though eclectic, the design felt harmonious and well-integrated. After showing her the house, the housekeepers took her to familiarize herself with the surrounding area. Nearby were a few residential communities with fully stocked shops. Passing by a stationery store, Thelma noticed a puzzle for sale and decided to buy one.
Back at the villa, the housekeepers returned to their duties, leaving Thelma to wander around on her own. Despite having spent the entire day exploring, she still felt a sense of disbelief as she walked through the villa. It was hard to imagine she had been living here for years.
After exploring, she returned to her room. Feeling a little awkward about having nothing to do while the housekeepers were busy, she went to the third-floor laundry room, where Aunt Hope was ironing clothes.
“Let me take over. You’ve been working hard all day,” Thelma offered.
Aunt Hope seemed surprised but didn’t question her. After a moment of hesitation, she handed over the iron.
Thelma started ironing, only to realize she was working on one of Sam Noah’s shirts. She had been so focused on helping that she hadn’t noticed until now. Staring at the shirt in front of her, she suddenly felt self-conscious.
Her cheeks flushed, but she quickly told herself, It’s just ironing a shirt. No big deal.
Sam Noah had returned home earlier than expected. When he reached her room, the door was open, but she wasn’t there. He went up to the third floor and noticed the door to the laundry room was ajar. Sunlight streamed through the large terrace, illuminating the room. He saw a figure inside and instinctively moved closer.
The housekeepers were downstairs—could it be her? What was she doing in the laundry room?
Standing in the doorway, he saw her. Her hair was casually tied back, with two loose strands framing her face. She wore a loose plaid shirt and jeans, simple and casual, yet she looked gentle and serene in the soft light.
Gentle? He had never associated that word with her after their marriage.
He glanced at the ironing board and saw one of his shirts. Was she ironing it?
For a moment, Sam Noah wondered if he was hallucinating. To be sure, he pinched his thigh. It hurt.
It wasn’t a hallucination.
She was really ironing his shirt.
The woman who had once despised him, who wouldn’t let him get within half a meter of her, was now ironing his clothes.
Thelma felt someone watching her and looked up, startled to see Sam Noah standing in the doorway. His eyes were fixed on her, his gaze intense and unreadable.
His tall frame filled the doorway, and his presence felt oppressive. She fidgeted nervously and asked, “Why are you home so early?”
“You… are ironing my shirt?” he asked.
His expression appeared calm, but Thelma sensed a hint of urgency in his tone, as if he were pressing her for an explanation.
Embarrassed, she scratched her head and laughed awkwardly. “I… had nothing else to do, so I thought I’d help. Don’t worry—I’ve ironed clothes before. I won’t ruin it.”
Sam Noah: “…”
Who was worried about her ruining it?
Lowering his head slightly, Sam Noah concealed the faint smile spreading in his eyes. He hid his clenched fists in his pockets, trying to suppress his emotions. After a moment of thought, he looked up, cleared his throat, and said with a composed expression, “It doesn’t matter. Iron as much as you want. I have plenty of clothes. If you ruin one, it’s on me.”
Thelma: “…”
