The Billionaire's Silent Wife (Ryan and Eve) novel Chapter 57

< Chapter 57 The Distance Between

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Chapter 57 The Distance Between

Ryan’s POV

Ryan pushed the door open quietly.

The faint sound of breathing met him, slow, uneven, but steady.

Eve was curled on the guest-room bed, one arm draped protectively across her mid-section, the other beneath her cheek. Her lashes cast long shadows against her skin. The tear stains had dried there, delicate and cruel reminders of the hours before.

For a long moment he only watched her.

He didn’t understand the instinct that pulled him closer; he just obeyed it.

He moved to the side of the bed and crouched, studying the fragile calm that had settled over her face. How had it come to this, his wife, sleeping in the same room she had once been banished to? He wondered if she would ever see this house as home again, or if every wall would always whisper of what he’d taken from her.

Without thinking, he slid his arms beneath her and lifted her gently.

She stirred, eyes fluttering open for a second, then sighed and relaxed into him, the smallest sound escaping her lips, a breath of surrender, or maybe exhaustion.

Her head rested against his shoulder. She smelled faintly of soap and lavender.

He carried her down the hallway, through the quiet corridor to the master bedroom. The room felt unfamiliar, almost foreign, though it had once been the center of his world. He laid her down carefully on the bed, arranging the sheets around her. She turned slightly, murmuring something he couldn’t catch, then went still again.

For a moment he stood there, watching her chest rise and fall.

He hadn’t realized until now how heavy silence could feel when it carried regret.

Downstairs, the take-out he had ordered hours earlier was growing cold. He went to the kitchen, reheated the food, and plated it neatly. Every motion felt mechanical, something to fill the space where words refused to exist.

When he returned upstairs, she was still asleep. He set the tray on the nightstand and reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Eve,” he said softly. “Wake up.”

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Her eyelids fluttered. She blinked, disoriented, her eyes darting from the unfamiliar ceiling to him. For a moment she looked like she wasn’t sure where she was, or if what she saw was

real.

Then awareness returned, and she pushed herself up slowly.

He gestured toward the tray. “You need to eat. We’ll go to your doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Okay.”

She managed a small, uncertain smile. “Thank you.”

He didn’t answer. He only nodded.

As she picked up the fork, her hands trembled slightly. She tried to hide it, but he noticed.

Halfway through the first bite, her throat tightened and tears began to slip down her cheeks. She wiped them quickly, embarrassed.

“What about you?” she asked suddenly, her voice breaking. “Have you eaten?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

It was a lie, but she didn’t press. She tasted the food again, and then stopped. A familiar flavor hit her tongue. Her brows furrowed in confusion.

“This tastes like…” she began, then looked up at him. “Vargos?”

Ryan’s lips curved faintly, just enough to confirm it. “Yes.”

Her heart twisted. “How did you know?”

He hesitated for a moment, then said quietly, “My mother.”

He didn’t look at her as he spoke. “She had someone keeping an eye on you. I didn’t know until after you left.”

Eve stared at him, stunned. “So… you knew I worked there?”

“Not while you were here,” he said. “I found out later.”

The words lingered between them like smoke, half confession, half apology.

He wanted to tell her more. That he had been furious when he first learned, not because she

worked but because she hadn’t told him. That later, when the anger faded, all he felt was shame, for never giving her a reason to trust him.

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But he didn’t say it.

He wasn’t sure she was ready to hear what lay beneath his restraint.

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Instead, he reached for the dresser drawer beside the bed and pulled out a small white bottle. He held it out to her.

“Prenatal vitamins,” he said. “You can start them if you want. Or check with your doctor first, if you don’t trust my intentions.”

His voice was flat, guarded, but the faint tremor beneath it betrayed something else.

Eve accepted the bottle quietly. “Thank you,” she murmured, turning it in her hands. The gesture was small, but it felt like something fragile trying to rebuild itself.

Ryan exhaled, leaning back slightly. The air between them was filled with unsaid things, years of hurt packed into a single silence.

Finally, he spoke again, his tone lower this time. “Please stop sleeping in the guest room.”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

He met her eyes. “We might have started on the wrong foot,” he said carefully, “but I want to try now.”

Eve froze, unsure if she’d heard right.

“I’ve wanted to try for a long time,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper.

She stared at him, searching for the deception she had come to expect. Maybe this was just another temporary thaw before the frost returned. Maybe he only said it out of guilt. She didn’t dare hope, not anymore.

He seemed to sense her hesitation. “We don’t have to be miserable anymore,” he said softly, standing. His gaze lingered on her face for a heartbeat longer than he meant it to. Then he turned away.

“I’m heading back to my office,” he said. “If you need anything… let me know.”

She nodded faintly, not trusting her voice.

When the door closed behind him, she let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

She looked down at the plate of food, still half-full, then at the medicine bottle resting in her palm. A hundred thoughts raced through her mind, none of them clear enough to hold on to.

Downstairs, Ryan’s footsteps echoed briefly before fading into the hum of the house.

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He reached his office and sat at his desk, the computer screen glowing against the dimness. He wasn’t working; he was simply staring, lost. The weight in his chest pressed heavier with every passing second.

He thought of her tears, her quiet thank-yous. The way she still flinched slightly when he moved too suddenly.

She was here, under the same roof, yet he felt as though she was a thousand miles away.

His phone buzzed on the desk.

It was his assistant.

“Sir, we’ve released the official statement,” the man said. “Mrs. Ashbrook has returned. She’s safe and no longer considered missing.”

Ryan rubbed his temple. “Good.”

“Also, about tomorrow’s executive meeting, will you be attending in person?”

“No,” Ryan said. “Virtually.”

“All right, sir. Anything else?”

“That’ll be all.”

He ended the call and sat there for a moment, staring at the empty space on the wall where a photo used to hang, one of their wedding pictures. He’d taken it down before their third anniversary. Now, even the outline left by the frame was gone, painted over like the memory

itself.

The room felt cold despite the warm light. He loosened his tie, leaning back in his chair.

He wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

Not after everything.

But the truth was simple and cruel: the thought of losing her again terrified him.

She had left once, vanished without warning, leaving only a note, and the emptiness that followed had nearly undone him.

He still remembered the quiet of those first nights: coming home to a house too big, a bed too cold, a fridge untouched because she was the only one who ever filled it.

He had thought her silence would free him. Instead, it hollowed him out.

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<Chapter 57 The Distance Between

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Now that she was back, the fear sat like a constant ache at the back of his throat. Every time she looked at him, every time she spoke softly, he wondered if it would be the last time. If tomorrow he’d wake up to find her gone again.

He glanced toward the window. The city lights shimmered in the distance, indifferent.

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