My Billionaire Ex Beg For A Second Chance-Chapter 135: Is It Wrong to Hope?

The sound of the front door clicking shut echoed louder than it should have. Katherine stood frozen in place, fingers still clutching the hem of her cardigan.

Leonard was gone. Off to work.

Her smile, the one she’d forced to stay on her lips, slowly faded as the silence swallowed the entire house. She let out a soft breath, lowering her hands and glancing around the spacious living room that felt more like a stranger’s house than her own.

It had been a month.

Thirty mornings of waking up alone. Thirty evenings of sitting alone at the dinner table, pretending not to notice the untouched plate left for him growing cold.

And Leonard... he was still as cold as ever. Distant. Untouchable.

Katherine pulled her cardigan tighter around her shoulders as if it could shield her from the heaviness pressing against her chest. She wasn’t naive. She knew this marriage wasn’t something Leonard wanted. It was forced—pushed onto both of them by their fathers, like pieces on a chessboard moved for someone else’s victory.

Still... she couldn’t help but wish.

Wish that he’d at least acknowledge it. Acknowledge her.

This was happening, whether either of them liked it or not. They were married now. Sharing the same roof. Sharing the same last name.

Was it really so terrible to try and make it... bearable?

This wasn’t what she imagined marriage would be like. But then again, this wasn’t a normal marriage.

Katherine shook her head lightly, gathering her composure. "It’s okay," she murmured under her breath. "It’s okay, Katherine. Let’s not waste the day."

She tied her hair up into a loose ponytail and began moving through the house, deciding to tidy things up. Not that the house was particularly messy. Leonard was a meticulous man. His things were always in place—his shoes lined up perfectly by the entrance, his books arranged alphabetically on the shelves, his desk almost scarily neat.

But still... wiping the dust off the shelves, straightening the throw pillows, and vacuuming the floor gave her something to do—something to focus on other than the aching hollowness pressing on her chest.

The kitchen came next. She opened the refrigerator, scanning what she had. "Maybe... spicy braised chicken?" she whispered to herself. She remembered seeing an article once that spicy food helps relieve stress. She chuckled bitterly. If that worked, Leonard would probably need a whole pot.

As she chopped vegetables, the sound of the knife hitting the wooden board filled the room. The rhythmic motion soothed her nerves. Slice. Chop. Stir. Simmer.

By afternoon, the house smelled warm—homey. Garlic, soy sauce, a bit of sweetness. The scent made her stomach grumble, though her appetite wavered with the heaviness still lingering in her chest.

She set the table carefully. Two plates. Two sets of chopsticks. Two glasses of water.

Even though deep down... a voice whispered cruelly—he won’t eat with you.

Still... she hoped.

By the time the clock struck half past seven, the familiar sound of the front door unlocking made her heart jump. Katherine quickly stood, smoothing her dress and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Leonard walked in, looking just as crisp and put together as he did when he left. His dark suit was unwrinkled, his tie still neat. His sharp gaze swept the entryway, then landed on her.

"You’re home," she said, her voice a little breathless, though she tried to mask it with a smile. "I... um... I made dinner. You must be hungry."

She gestured toward the dining table, where the food was laid out perfectly.

Leonard didn’t even look toward it. His fingers moved to loosen his tie as he walked past her, heading straight toward his room. "I already ate," he said, tone flat. Detached.

Katherine blinked. "Oh..." Her hands clutched together, her nails digging into her palms to stop them from trembling. "I... I didn’t know."

He paused by the hallway, glancing over his shoulder. His expression unreadable. "You don’t have to bother yourself preparing dinner. I won’t always eat here."

Then, without waiting for her reply, he disappeared into his room.

The quiet click of his door shutting felt louder than a slammed one.

Katherine stood there for a moment—rooted. As if the floor had swallowed her feet. Her throat tightened. She swallowed hard, forcing the sting behind her eyes to stay where it was. Don’t cry. Don’t cry, Katherine.

Her gaze slowly drifted toward the table. The food was still warm. The candles flickered softly. It looked... pitiful. Like a celebration that no one showed up to.

With stiff legs, she walked over, pulled out a chair, and sat down. Slowly, she picked up her chopsticks. Her hands trembled slightly. She grabbed a piece of chicken, brought it to her lips, but... the moment it touched her tongue, the tears she tried so hard to hold back slipped free.

Salty. Not from the food. From her.

She set the chopsticks down. Folded her hands together. Rested her forehead on them as her shoulders shook quietly. No sobs. Just... the silent ache of loneliness.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. The food had gone cold.

Katherine eventually pushed herself upright, wiping her face quickly with her sleeves. She stood and carefully packed the untouched food into containers. Waste wasn’t something she allowed.

Once the kitchen was clean, once the dishes were washed and the table was spotless as if nothing had ever been prepared there... Katherine stood by the kitchen counter, staring out the window.

And here she was. Married. Living with a man who couldn’t even look at her without acting like it was a burden.

She folded her arms, hugging herself tightly. A deep sigh escaped her lips.

Is it wrong to hope? she wondered silently. Is it foolish... to hope that maybe... one day... Leonard would be kind to me? That maybe... one day... he’ll care? Or... at least see me as more than... this?

She pressed her palm over her heart, as if doing so could quiet the painful throb there.

"Just... maybe..." her whisper barely reached the air.