Nico knocked three times on her door.
"Mira?" he called. "Are you in there?"
No answer came.
He reached for the door handle and stopped there, his fingers hovering, unable to decide whether he had the right to walk in on her uninvited.
He’d tasted the ensaimada that morning, the one Jeff had kept warm under a cloth in his dish. The cook had offered to make him something else at first, but Nico insisted on eating what she’d prepared instead.
The dish had still been warm when he lifted the cloth, the sugar dusted on top catching the morning light through the kitchen window.
The pastry had been heavenly, better than anything Jeff usually made on the Thursdays set aside for pastries, and far richer than the expensive imports the kitchen sometimes brought in for show.
While he ate, Jeff mentioned offhandedly that the recipe had belonged to Mira’s late mother. That single sentence dropped another stone of guilt straight into his gut.
Nico hadn’t finished his breakfast. Not when the person who’d made it hadn’t eaten hers, and was likely sulking in her room after he’d sent her out of his the night before.
He’d sat there afterward, staring at the half-empty plate for longer than he cared to admit, before finally pushing it aside and coming to find her instead.
Standing at her doorstep now, he tried to blame the corruption for everything that had gone wrong between them. He couldn’t. The corruption was only ever an amplifier, which meant some part of him truly hadn’t wanted her close.
Knowing that made it harder to walk in. He didn’t even know what he’d say to her once he did.
He’d rehearsed a handful of sentences on the walk over, and every single one of them had sounded hollow the moment he reached her door.
Jeff had suggested an apology. Nico had no idea how to give one. Growing up surrounded by criminals had shaped too much of him, including the habit of never apologizing and never admitting fault.
Every instinct he’d ever been taught said that weakness shown was weakness exploited. Somehow that lesson felt useless standing outside her door.
’Maybe I’m just taking this too seriously.’
He let his hand slip off the handle.
He decided to cut himself some slack instead of chasing a headache over it. It was only a small misunderstanding, after all. Give her a few minutes, and she’d forget the whole thing.
He turned to leave, already telling himself he’d bring it up later, when things weren’t so raw. In the next second, the door creaked open behind him.
"What do you want?"
Mira stood in the narrow gap, guarding the space like she didn’t want him seeing past her shoulder. A frown sat on her face, more tired than angry.
"It’s nothing," Nico said, still reading her expression carefully. "Are you okay?"
"I am," she replied coldly, the frown deepening. "Do I look otherwise to you— ah!"
The yell cut her question short. She doubled over at once, both arms wrapping around her stomach.
"Mira." Nico crossed the distance and gripped her shoulders firmly. "What’s wrong?"
"Cramps..."
The word barely made it past her lips, but he caught it clearly enough.
He didn’t fully understand what a cramp was, but the way she said it, like she already knew exactly what was happening to her, told him enough. He guessed she was in her monthly flow.
Her face had gone pale in the span of seconds, a thin sheen breaking out along her hairline. Whatever coldness had been in her voice moments ago was gone now, replaced by something closer to helplessness.
For a man used to reading danger in a room within an instant, the sight of her like this unsettled him in a way he couldn’t quite name.
He looped an arm gently around her back and walked her to the bed. He gathered a few pillows together so she could rest her head against them properly.
"Do you need anything?"
Mira shook her head sideways. Her contorted face and slowed breathing said otherwise. Clearly, she needed several things at once, whether she admitted it or not.
"Don’t move. I’ll be back."
Nico went downstairs and told Jeff what was happening. For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he trusted the cook to handle a problem like this, despite Jeff being a man himself.
Jeff dropped the towel he’d been holding the moment Nico finished speaking, his easy grin fading into something far more focused.
And true to form, Jeff rattled off a full list without missing a beat. She needed warm ginger tea first, along with some crackers, since she hadn’t eaten anything all morning. After that, plenty of water.
He also recommended finding Mira a heating pad, or failing that, anything warm enough to dull the pain. Pain medication came next on the list, once she’d eaten, followed by some light stretching to ease the cramping.
Nico listened to all of it in silence, half wondering how a hardened cook had memorized a routine most men never thought twice about.
"Jesus, Jeff. It’s just cramps."
"It’s never just cramps, boss." Jeff let out a short laugh. "I do have a younger sister who would literally kick you in the face for saying that."
"Ah, now I see how you know all these," Nico replied with a nod. "Is there anything else I should be worried about?"
"No, I’m sure that’s all. But, just one more thing boss..."
Nico raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Don’t overstimulate the lady."
***
Instruction unclear. Nico overstimulated the lady.
He carried the ginger tea and crackers up to her room himself and set them down on the bedside table. Then he helped her sit up so she could eat properly.
Steam curled off the cup between them, filling the small room with the sharp, warm scent of ginger. Mira eyed the tray for a moment before reaching for it.
He watched her chew through each bite slowly, the same sluggish way she always ate. She stopped after the third cracker and reached for the teacup instead.
"You should eat more."
"I’m fine."
She set the cup down hard, an irritated look crossing her face. Through it all, Nico noticed she still hadn’t met his eyes. Not once, not even for a second.
Mira sank back into the pillows, though her eyes stayed open this time, fixed on nothing in particular while her right palm pressed flat against her stomach.
The silence between them stretched long enough that Nico found himself counting the seconds, unsure whether he should fill it or let it sit.
"I’ve sent the house runner to get some things for you," Nico mentioned. "They should be back any minute."
"Okay."
Nico let out a defeated sigh. He was done with the cold shoulder treatment.
"If you want to be mad at me, then be," he said. "Stop trying to hide your feelings behind small words and expect me to magically understand you."
Mira glanced at him, just for a moment, then looked away again almost immediately.
"I’m not mad at you, but okay."
"I doubt that."
"I’m not mad at you. Why should I be mad at you?" she asked, the question nearly rhetorical. "Afterall, you’re the big, feared boss who never makes mistakes. And I’m the woman whose duty is to serve you without complaining."
"You’re my wife," Nico cut in plainly. "So, go ahead and delete the idea that the entire purpose of your existence in this marriage is to serve me. It’s none of that."
Mira didn’t blink.
"Sure."
"There’s this stuff I’ve been having lately. Really dark stuff," Nico said, after a long stretch of silence. "It lets me do and say things that I don’t mean. Really ugly things."
"I mean, why take drugs when you already know what it does to you?"
"It’s not drugs, Mira," he said, heaving out a breath. "It’s like... It’s complicated, really. But the baseline is that, the more I consume that stuff, the more it affects my consciousness."
"Okay then."
Nico’s gaze dropped at her reply. His last resort had failed too, it seemed, and he was out of options now. Only one path remained. Jeff’s advice, the one he’d dreaded most.
His jaw tightened. The word sat right at the back of his throat, refusing to come easily, as though decades of habit were physically holding it in place.
He drew a slow breath and let it go. He didn’t want to do this at all. But there was no dodging it anymore, not this time.
"I’m ssss..."