Ethan Sullivan pushed the door open to find Sophia Laurent sitting by the hospital bed, lost in thought.

He settled beside her naturally, his long fingers threading through her soft hair. His voice was low. "Isabella's emotionally unstable. Don't take it to heart."

The words sounded comforting, yet they pierced Sophia like a needle.

She lowered her lashes without responding.

Endurance was a blade hanging over her head—she'd tolerated Isabella Valentine too many times. In the past, she'd endured Ethan's temper out of love. But what right did Isabella have?

Eleanor Sullivan sensed the tension immediately and smacked Ethan's back. "You brat! Sophia's a year younger than that girl! If I catch you favoring her again, you'll face the family discipline!"

Ethan chuckled, tilting Sophia's chin toward him. "Let me see—who does this little jealous one belong to?"

Sophia turned her face away.

Ignoring her resistance, he pulled her into his arms, his thumb brushing lightly over the bandage on her wrist. "Anger slows wound healing."

Eleanor joined in coaxing her. "Be good, Sophia. If he acts up again, Grandma will set him straight. It's late—you should rest."

Caught between their persuasion, Sophia couldn't maintain her stern expression. As she stood to leave, Eleanor suddenly winked at her. "Don't forget what you promised me."

Sophia's ears burned instantly.

In the hallway, Ethan eyed her flushed earlobes. "What did Grandma say to you?"

"She wants us... to have a child."

Ethan laughed softly. "The old lady's obsessed with great-grandchildren. The moment I could walk again, she started dropping hints."

Inside the elevator, he asked abruptly, "Do you want one?"

Sophia tightened her grip on her bag strap. "It's not the right time."

"Is it that you don't want a child, or that you don't want my child?" His tone was casual, but his gaze was sharp.

"If we divorce someday—"

"Right." Ethan cut her off, his lips curling in self-mockery.

Silence filled the car.

Only when they entered the neighborhood did he speak again. "Stay at my place tonight."

Sophia nodded faintly.

Under the moonlight, he took her hand in public for the first time. Yet Sophia remembered these same fingers had once held Isabella's, and a sour ache spread through her chest.

At the doorway, Ethan suddenly knelt to change her shoes. His fingertips grazed her ankle, sending a shiver through her.

"You always took care of me before," he said, looking up at her, the light reflecting in his eyes. "Now it's my turn."

The tenderness was so sudden that Sophia felt uneasy.

"Time for a bath," he said abruptly. "I'll help you."

Sophia's ears burned hotter. The sponge baths at the hospital were embarrassing enough—now they'd be completely exposed...

Ethan laughed at her flustered expression. "Still shy after three years of marriage?"

Remembering Oliver Granger's words, Sophia mustered her courage. "Do men... prefer women who take the lead?"

"Oliver taught you that?" He raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. "Then do you know how to flirt?"

Blushing, Sophia mimicked a scene from a novel, tracing her finger over the defined abs beneath his shirt.

"Wrong." He caught her hand with a low chuckle. "Your gaze should be sultry, your waist soft." A pause. "But this earnest look of yours... makes me want to teach you algebra instead."

Sophia's eyes widened. "How are you so smooth at this?"

"Theoretical expertise." He grinned, heading toward the bathroom. "The water's ready."

In the tub, Sophia held up her injured hand like a wary cat. "Get out."

Ethan ignored her, picking up a loofah with amusement. "Little mud monkey."

"I'm not dirty!"

"Mhm, my Sophia's the cleanest." His voice dropped suddenly, turning husky.

When his breathing grew rough, Sophia knew trouble was coming. Before she could evade him, his hands gripped her waist, turning her around. In the warm water, his lips captured hers.