It was morning already when Ben and Ella, for the first time since their marriage, had a calm dinner together. The air between them was different, not heavy, not tense, just quiet. The soft sound of their cutlery against the plates filled the silence. Ella's eyes occasionally drifted to him, watching how focused he looked even while eating.
She couldn't understand him. The same man who yelled, ordered, and acted cold toward everyone was now… gentle. Listening. Calm. It was confusing.
Does he really hate his dad as he said during his phone call? She wondered, her gaze fixed on his face. He didn't speak much, but when he did, his voice carried a softness she hadn't noticed before.
Ben's quietness and his willingness to listen made something inside her soften. For the first time, she didn't see the arrogant man the world saw, she saw someone broken, someone tired. Someone who may have just wanted to be understood. She felt herself wanting to know him more, to get closer, even if she couldn't explain why.
Ben's attitude had always been his armor. Once, he had been a calm boy, one who dreamed of living a simple, honest life. But as McDon's only son, that dream had been crushed long ago. He had to sacrifice everything; his peace, his happiness, just to live up to the expectations of a father who saw power as love.
He became cold, arrogant, and rude so no one would ever look down on him. Yet, behind closed doors, he was a man with shattered pieces of himself scattered everywhere; sad, broken, angry, and lost. His heart carried a quiet plea to be loved, to be cared for, to be seen and accepted for who he truly was beneath the walls.
Weeks passed. Then came the announcement of the company's grand dinner, a gathering meant for top executives, investors, family, and every important figure in their circle. Attendance wasn't optional. For Ben and Ella, it meant one thing: another act, another lie.
"Wear this and be ready by six p.m.," Ben said, his voice flat but his gesture careful as he handed her a designer bag. Inside was a breathtaking red dress and a pair of matching heels.
"Dinner…!? Okay," Ella replied softly, her fingers brushing over the fabric. The material felt smooth and elegant, a reflection of the world she had been thrown into. She forced a smile and nodded.
At exactly 6:30, they arrived. The atmosphere was grand; chandeliers sparkling above, the air scented with expensive perfume and ambition. They walked in hand-in-hand, their steps perfectly in rhythm, pretending to be a picture of love. Every head turned. Eyes followed them.
"Does he even love her?" a voice whispered from the crowd.
Ella heard it. She kept her head high, her expression calm, even as her stomach twisted. Together, she and Ben walked like they belonged there, their every step deliberate and graceful.
The event went on smoothly. Conversations filled the air, laughter mixed with the clinking of glasses, and music played softly in the background. Then, McDon stood up from his seat, holding his glass high.
"A toast to the new couple among us," he said, his deep voice commanding the room's attention.
Everyone turned to look at Ben and Ella.
Ben forced a wide smile, lifting his glass with practiced ease. "To new beginnings," he said, his voice smooth but hollow.
Across the table, Ella stared at McDon, her hands tightening around her glass. Memories of what he did to her family came rushing back; the betrayal, the pain, the downfall. Her anger burned quietly inside her, but she masked it behind a polite smile. She couldn't afford to break character. Not here. Not now.
A few days after the dinner, things started to change around the house. Small things, but noticeable. Ben began leaving short notes of what needed to be done. He'd quietly fix wall paintings that were tilted, straighten her bed if she forgot, and most surprisingly of all, he started standing up for her.
The man who once ignored her pain now seemed… protective.
One afternoon, Ella called out to the cook. "Can you please make me some juice?" she asked kindly.
The woman frowned. "Why should I do as you say? You're not the one paying me," the cook snapped, crossing her arms.
Ella blinked in disbelief. "I'll just do it myself, then," she said calmly, turning to head into the kitchen.
But the cook blocked her way. "You're not allowed in here," she said harshly, her tone full of disdain.
Ella felt her patience slipping. Her voice rose without warning. "I said I'll make it myself!" she yelled, the sound echoing through the house.
Within seconds, Ben appeared, his footsteps heavy and quick. "What's going on here?" His voice was sharp, demanding an answer.
One of the maids quickly explained. Ben's face hardened as he turned toward the cook. His jaw clenched.
"Hey," he said coldly. "Pack your things and get out of my house."
The cook's eyes widened. "Sir…..:"
"You can't disrespect my wife in my home. Get out," Ben yelled, his voice loud enough to silence the entire household. Then he turned, his eyes sweeping across the staff. "If anyone else disrespects her, you'll join her. Do I make myself clear?"
The room fell silent. Everyone nodded nervously.
Ella stood frozen. Shock washed over her. Her heart raced; part disbelief, part gratitude. For days, he had watched her being humiliated and said nothing, yet now he defended her without hesitation.
Ben turned to leave, saying nothing to her. His face was unreadable. The staff exchanged glances, whispering in confusion.
As Ella gathered herself, she walked toward him, wanting to thank him. But before she could speak, he said quietly, "I didn't do this for you. I did it so they won't realize we're faking it."
His words stung, but his tone betrayed something else, a flicker of truth he didn't want her to hear.
Ella stepped closer anyway, her voice low. "Thank you," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. Her heart pounded against his chest.
Ben stood still, his arms at his sides, refusing to hug her back. Yet, for the first time, he didn't push her away. And that silence, that quiet stillness between them said everything.