The evening air was quiet inside the house as Aaron walked through the front door, greeted immediately by the soft chatter of Natalia's warm, welcoming smile.
Upstairs in the sprawling dressing room—lined with neat rows of garments, leather bags, shoe shelves, and a dedicated glass case for watches and earrings—Aaron stood by the wardrobe. He was sorting through his shirts, looking for something suitable for the next day's meetings at the company.
Natalia slipped into the room just as he pulled a folded shirt from the shelf, placing it gently on the central marble counter slab.
She had just finished putting little Diana to sleep after a long day of playing, while Marcus was happily engrossed in a cartoon before his own bedtime. She paused, deciding it was the right moment to deliver a message.
"Your mum called. She wanted the children to visit," Natalia explained.
Aaron froze. He was stunned. His mother had bypassed him and called his wife directly. Masking his surprise with a neutral expression, he turned to her.
"She called? When?" he asked, curiosity edging into his voice, wondering why she would bother contacting Natalia after they had already spoken at noon.
"She called at noon," Natalia said, her eyes fixed on him.
That means it was right after mother spoke with me, Aaron thought.
"I told her the kids would come next week," Natalia added.
Aaron felt a flicker of annoyance. He disliked that his mother had reached out to Natalia after he had already addressed the matter earlier that day. Meanwhile, Natalia looked down at the shirts on the counter, assuming he was simply picking out tomorrow's attire. She thought a navy blue shirt would look exceptionally handsome on him.
Watching her, Aaron realized she seemed completely unbothered by the call. Natalia was an open book to him; her calm demeanor assured him that no sharp words had been exchanged.
"Did she say anything else?" Aaron asked, knowing his mother's tendency to make pointed remarks.
"No, nothing else," Natalia replied.
As she spoke, a shadow crossed her mind. She remembered the very first time Aaron had brought her home to meet his parents, Fred and Priscilla. Underneath Priscilla's polite gaze, Natalia had sensed a deep reluctance—an unspoken refusal to accept her as a daughter-in-law. Priscilla, seeing the bright brunette with her striking features, had recognized how deeply her son was in love. Instead of being happy for him, Priscilla had grown defensive, fearing Natalia would pull her son away and reduce her own influence. Though Priscilla had plastered a smile on her face, the chill had left Natalia shaken and insecure.
Even now, remembering that day brought a quiet sadness to Natalia's heart. She didn't understand why his mother disliked her, though she never blamed Aaron—it wasn't his fault.
"The kids will be happy to see their grandparents," Aaron said softly, slipping his arms into the navy blue shirt.
Natalia offered a small, gentle smile. "Yes, they will."
Aaron noticed the fleeting sorrow in her eyes and instantly knew it stemmed from thoughts of his mother.
"I need to go check on Marcus," Natalia said, turning away.
"Natalia. How does this look?" he asked.
She paused, looking first at the shirt, then up into his warm brown eyes. The navy blue long-sleeve fitted him perfectly, giving him a striking, effortless boss vibe.
"It makes you look dashing," she admitted.
"I'm wearing this, then—so I can look dashing for you," he said, closing the distance between them.
He stopped right in front of her. Natalia looked up, her heart lifting with quiet joy as she took in his handsome, commanding presence. Aaron reached out, his hands resting on her waist to draw her close. He leaned down and pressed a firm, affectionate kiss to the crown of her head.
Pulling back, he looked down into her loving eyes. To Aaron, Natalia was his beautiful princess, and he loved her deeply.
With a soft smile, Natalia stepped out of his arms to check on their kids. Left alone in the room, Aaron felt an overwhelming sense of happiness. He had a kind, good-natured, understanding wife—and he was definitely wearing the navy shirt.
The polished glass of the third-floor balcony overlooked the bustling central atrium of Crescent Company. From up here, the lively pulse of the main hall unfolded below: staff carrying garment bags, assistants rushing with coffee, and designers reviewing print proofs on large marble tables.
Roman leaned casually against the chrome railing, his sleeve rolled back just enough to expose the bluish-gray diver's watch. He hadn't been able to leave it in its box this morning. When else am I going to wear something like this if not at work? he had reasoned while getting dressed. The substantial weight of the watch grounded him, radiating an undeniable aura of luxury.
"Running late on the autumn issue overview?"
Roman turned to see Erin stepping out onto the balcony, holding two steaming mugs. Erin, a senior layout editor, was one of the few colleagues Roman considered a close friend. They regularly traded work gossip and shared smoke breaks on this very overlook.
"Just taking a minute to breathe before the afternoon review," Roman said, taking one of the mugs Erin offered.
As Erin reached across, his eyes caught the gleam of the heavy metal casing on Roman's wrist. He paused for a fraction of a second, his gaze locking onto the distinct face of the timepiece. As a watch enthusiast, Erin instantly recognized the high-end brand and its staggering price tag. Where on earth did Roman get a watch that expensive?
"That's a fine watch," Erin said, his voice flat and practical. He deliberately kept his tone measured, refusing to give the grand compliment Roman was clearly fishing for.
"Thanks," Roman replied, adjusting his cuff with a subtle smirk. "I decided to bring it out today."
Erin took a slow sip of his coffee, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked from the watch back to Roman. "Since when is Crescent paying us enough to buy a high-end diver's piece like that? Did you get a surprise bonus I don't know about?" A sharp pang of jealousy twisted in his chest.
"No, nothing like that," Roman said smoothly, resting his arm back on the railing so the watch caught the ambient sunlight. "A friend gifted it to me."
"A gift?" Erin repeated. A flicker of disbelief crossed his face before he masked it behind a dry nod. "Must be a very generous friend."
"He is," Roman said simply.
Erin went quiet, turning his attention toward the bustling crowd down in the lobby. Roman is so lucky, he thought bitterly. He gets an eight-thousand-dollar luxury watch handed to him by a rich friend, while I sit at a desk crunching hours for every single paycheck.
Wishing he were the lucky recipient—and wishing he had connections like that—Erin refused to offer another word. Praising the piece felt like validating how easily things came to Roman.
Roman noticed the sudden restraint in Erin's voice and the way his colleague's eyes aggressively avoided looking at his wrist. He could practically feel the quiet envy radiating off him. Rather than feeling bothered, Roman felt a satisfying swell of pride. Erin's silence was all the proof he needed of just how impressive the watch truly was.
"Anyway," Erin broke the silence, clearing his throat as he tapped his knuckles against the cool metal railing, "have you checked the finalized layout drafts for the cover story?"
"Not yet," Roman replied, stepping smoothly back into his professional role while keeping his wrist casually displayed. "I'm heading back to my desk in a few minutes to review the creative team's submission. What's the word on the text spacing?"
"The typography team is still waiting on your go-ahead," Erin said, shifting his body slightly away as they slipped back into their usual work banter—the unspoken envy hanging heavy and quiet between them above the atrium below.