Ethan woke up to the soft hum of morning traffic outside Lila's apartment. The events of the previous day felt like a dream, but the slight ache in his back from sleeping on her lumpy couch reminded him it was all too real. He sat up, running a hand through his messy hair, and glanced at the digital clock on the wall. It was just past 8 a.m.
The system's voice greeted him as if on cue:
"New task: Clean your wife's living space. Reward: $300."
Ethan groaned, rubbing his temples. It wasn't like the apartment was a mess—if anything, it was unsettlingly tidy. But the system didn't seem to care about that.
Lila emerged from her bedroom a moment later, her hair slightly tousled but her expression as sharp as ever. She glanced at him, then at the couch, where a blanket and pillow still lay in disarray.
"Morning," she said curtly, heading straight for the kitchen.
"Morning," Ethan mumbled. He stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do.
She returned with a cup of coffee and sat down at the small dining table, scrolling through her phone. The silence between them felt heavier than it had the night before.
"So…" Ethan began, trying to break the ice. "Do you have work today?"
Lila nodded without looking up. "I freelance, so I'm usually working. Why?"
"No reason," Ethan said, scratching his neck. He wasn't sure how to ask, What's the deal with this whole marriage thing?without sounding ungrateful or suspicious.
Instead, he decided to tackle the system's task. "Hey, I was thinking… maybe I could clean up the apartment a bit. You know, as a thank-you for letting me stay here."
Lila's brow arched slightly, and she finally looked up from her phone. "You're going to clean? Voluntarily?"
"Sure," Ethan said, trying to sound casual. "It's the least I can do."
Her lips twitched into a faint smile. "Knock yourself out."
Ethan started in the kitchen, wiping down counters and scrubbing the already-spotless sink. He worked methodically, his mind drifting as he cleaned. He couldn't shake the feeling that Lila wasn't just some random woman. She carried herself with too much purpose, too much certainty.
When he moved to the living room, he noticed a stack of unopened mail on the coffee table. Out of curiosity, he glanced at the envelopes. Most were bills, but one stood out—it was from a law firm. The sender's name, McAllister & Burns LLP, was stamped in bold on the top left corner.
Before he could think too much about it, Lila's voice rang out. "Find something interesting?"
Ethan jumped, turning to see her leaning against the doorway with her coffee mug in hand. Her expression was neutral, but her eyes were sharp.
"Sorry," he said quickly, putting the envelope back. "I wasn't trying to snoop."
"Good," she said simply, walking past him to the couch. She picked up the stack of mail and tucked it into a drawer. "You're thorough, though. I'll give you that."
Ethan scratched the back of his neck, unsure how to respond.
As he vacuumed the living room rug, the system's voice returned:
"Task completed: Clean your wife's living space. Reward: $300 has been deposited into your bank account."
Ethan's phone buzzed in his pocket, confirming the deposit. He exhaled in relief, though the sense of unease lingered.
Later that afternoon, Ethan found himself standing awkwardly in the kitchen while Lila worked at her laptop. The hum of her typing filled the otherwise silent apartment.
"Hey," he said finally, breaking the quiet.
"Hmm?" she replied without looking up.
"What's the deal with this whole… marriage thing?" he asked, his words hesitant.
Her fingers paused over the keyboard, and she glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "What do you mean?"
"I mean…" Ethan struggled to find the right words. "You barely know me. I barely know you. But you were so sure yesterday. Why?"
Lila leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. "Does it bother you?"
"I wouldn't say that," Ethan said quickly. "It's just… unusual. Most people don't marry strangers."
She studied him for a moment before answering. "Sometimes, it's not about knowing everything. It's about recognizing the right opportunity when it comes along."
Ethan frowned, her words cryptic as always. "What opportunity?"
"That's for me to know," she said, a sly smile playing on her lips.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"So I've been told," Lila said with a shrug, turning back to her laptop.
As the day stretched on, Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that Lila was hiding something. Between the law firm envelope, her vague answers, and her uncanny composure, it was clear she wasn't just some ordinary freelancer.
But what could he do? She was his wife now, and the system seemed intent on keeping him tied to her.
That evening, as they sat down to dinner—takeout, because Lila insisted she wasn't in the mood to cook—Ethan decided to take a different approach.
"What's your favorite food?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation to lighter topics.
Lila looked at him, slightly surprised by the question. "Why?"
"Just curious," he said, shrugging. "If I'm going to cook for you, I should know what you like."
She smirked faintly. "I guess I'll let you figure it out."
Ethan groaned. "You're seriously not going to give me anything to work with?"
Lila's smirk widened. "Where's the fun in that?"
As frustrating as she was, Ethan couldn't help but smile. Beneath her guarded exterior, there was something oddly captivating about her.
But as he cleaned up after dinner and prepared to sleep on the couch again, one thought lingered in his mind:
Who exactly did I marry?