Love at First Night: The Billionaire's First Love-Chapter 79: Back home

>Mallory

"Ah! Finally home!"

The words slipped out the moment the door opened. I stepped inside and kicked my shoes off, stretching my arms high above my head. My back popped softly, sending a pleasant shiver down my spine. The familiar smell of the house wrapped around me—clean, warm, and comforting. After two weeks stuck in a hospital bed, this place felt unreal, like I had stepped into a dream.

Behind me, Venz walked in carefully, our son cradled securely in his arms. His steps were slow and light, as if even the sound of his shoes touching the floor might wake my son in his arms. When he reached me, he stopped and placed one hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"You should rest first," he said quietly.

I groaned and let my arms fall to my sides.

"No way."

He raised a brow slightly.

"I’ve been lying down for two whole weeks," I complained, rolling my shoulders. "My body feels stiff. If I rest more, I’ll turn into a statue."

Before he could reply, soft footsteps approached us.

"Welcome back, Young Master. Welcome back, Young Madam."

A woman around my age stood near the entrance, bowing politely. Her brown hair was tied neatly into a low ponytail, and her green eyes caught the light like polished glass. She wore a clean maid’s uniform, pressed perfectly, her posture straight and proper. Her smile was calm, not forced, and strangely comforting.

Venz nodded. "This is Anne. She took care of the house while we were gone."

"Oh." I looked around again.

The floor shone faintly, reflecting the light from the windows. The furniture sat exactly where we left it, untouched. Even the air felt fresh.

Everything was in place, as if the house had been holding its breath, waiting for us to return.

"Vale suggested we hire someone close to your age," Venz continued. "He said it would be easier for the kid. Familiar faces help children adjust."

"I see." I turned back to Anne and smiled.

"Thank you for taking care of the house."

"It’s my duty," she replied. "I also prepared lunch when I heard you were coming home. It’s already set on the dining table."

Right on cue, my stomach let out a quiet growl.

The dining room was peaceful, filled with soft light. Sunlight streamed through the window, spreading across the table and warming the dishes. The food smelled rich and inviting. I picked up my utensils, realizing this was the first time in days that I truly felt hungry.

Venz cleared his throat.

"Wife," he said, setting his utensils down, "I’ll be busy starting this coming week. I might not be able to come home for a while."

My hand paused mid-cut. Slowly, I lifted my head to look at him.

"Oh." I forced a smile. "That makes sense. You’ve been away from the office for too long because of me."

The smile felt stiff on my face but I tried my best not to let it show.

So I won’t see him much again.

The thought made my chest feel tight, and I frowned slightly at myself. He was working. That was normal. I was just being selfish.

"But," he added, looking straight at me, "you can come to my office anytime if you feel lonely."

I froze the I almost choked at my food.

I grabbed the glass of water just as he slid it closer to me. I coughed hard, my shoulders shaking before I finally caught my breath.

"What? No!" I said quickly. "Absolutely not!"

He blinked, clearly surprised.

"We’ve been together nonstop for two weeks," I continued, waving one hand dismissively. "I’m fine. Totally fine. I don’t need to visit you at work."

A faint smile tugged at his lips.

I looked away, focusing on my plate, hoping he wouldn’t notice the heat creeping up my face.

________

The house was never this quiet before. At least, not that I noticed.

It had been a few days since he stayed at work, and the silence wasn’t the uncomfortable kind that pressed down on my chest. Instead, it was the kind that made every little sound feel louder than it should be.

The ticking clock on the wall.

The soft wind brushing against the windows.

The piercing coldess of the marbled floor whenever it hits my skin.

I sat on the carpet in the living room, my legs folded beneath me. The fabric felt warm under my palms as I rested my hands on my knees. In front of me, my son sat cross-legged, his back straight and his focus locked on the wooden blocks scattered across the floor.

I watched him quietly, careful not to distract him.

His fingers moved with care as he stacked one block on top of another.

Red.

Blue.

Yellow.

Each piece was placed slowly, like he was measuring the weight of it in his mind. Every now and then, he paused and stared at the tower, his brows slightly furrowed. Then he nudged a block just a little, making sure it wouldn’t tip over. I was just quietly observing him, smiling at how he looked really serious about what he was doing.

Anne sat nearby, her skirt neatly tucked beneath her legs as she watched him with gentle attention. I thought I wouldn’t be comfortable having someone else in the house, but she had a strange warmth to her. She was good at her job—so good that I couldn’t help but relax around her.

I guess the Archeval family wouldn’t hire someone incompetent huh?

"He’s very patient," she said softly, her voice barely breaking the quiet.

"I know, right? He’s always been a good kid," I replied, unable to hide the pride in my voice.

My son looked up at the sound of her voice. His eyes met hers, curious but calm. After a moment, he reached for a green block and held it out toward her, his arm steady.

Anne blinked, surprised. "For me?"

He nodded once. Then he picked up his sketch pad, scribbling carefully before holding it up for her to see.

Pretty green eyes.

Her face lit up instantly. "Thank you."

She took the block gently, as if it were something fragile. Slowly, she placed it on top of the tower. The stack wobbled for a second, swaying side to side, we both held our breath, but then it stayed standing.

My son’s eyes widened. A small smile tugged at his lips.

The sight made my chest feel warm.

"You see?" I said quietly. "He likes you."

Anne let out a soft laugh. "I’m really honored."

She leaned closer to him. "Do you want to build a taller one?"

He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for more blocks and pulled them closer.

That was his way of saying yes.

They continued stacking together, their movements slow and careful. Anne followed his pace, never rushing him and never trying to take control. She waited for his nods, his small gestures, his silent looks before moving.

I stayed where I was, watching them, my hands resting loosely on my knees.

two years ago, I used to worry endlessly about moments like this. About how others would treat him. Whether they would have enough patience. Or enough kindness.

I’d seen how cruel this world could be.

But Anne didn’t seem uncomfortable at all.

When the tower finally toppled over, the blocks scattered across the floor with a soft clatter. My son didn’t flinch. He simply stared at the mess for a moment, then looked up at Anne.

She gasped playfully. "Oh no."

He tilted his head slightly. Then—he laughed.

No sound came out, but his shoulders shook, and his eyes curved into crescents. He covered his mouth with his hand like he was trying to hold it in.

I laughed too.

The room felt fuller with the sound.

After a while, my son crawled away from the blocks and reached for his sketchbook on the shelf. He sat back down and flipped through pages filled with drawings, each one carefully made.

He stopped on one page and turned the book toward Anne.

It was a drawing of three people.

One tall figure. One smaller figure in the middle. And one on the other side.

Anne leaned in closer. "Is this your family?"

He nodded.

Then he pointed at the tallest figure. "Daddy!"

Next, he pointed at me. Then at himself.

Anne looked at me with soft eyes. "That’s beautiful."

My son watched her carefully, then gave a small nod, satisfied with her answer.

I stood up slowly. "I’ll get some fruit," I said.

"You can stay here with him."

"Of course."

In the kitchen, I washed the fruit in silence.

The sound of running water filled the space, steady and calm, but my thoughts wandered again.

Without warning, my mind drifted to him.

Venz. His face appearing in my mind without my permission.

I wondered if he had eaten. If he was still at the office. If he remembered to rest.

My hand tightened slightly around the apple.

Why am I thinking about him?