Chapter 45

Yasmin suddenly let out a laugh. Under the dim light, her enchanting smile carried a hint of bitterness. "Caleb," she began, "the acknowledgment I want isn't just a marriage certificate. It's not about having my name in the spouse column, being called Mrs. Grant, or simply sharing a roof and a bed. What I want is a man who loves me wholeheartedly, a man who puts me above all else and will choose me regardless of the circumstances. Do you understand?"

"Am I your only choice, then?" Caleb asked before she could continue.

"Yes," Yasmin silently affirmed in her heart. However, she dared not say it aloud, knowing that between her and Veronica, he would always choose Veronica. She was unwilling to be rejected and have her pride trampled. Three years ago, she had given herself to him in a drunken haze, summoning every ounce of courage she possessed that night. In the past three years, Caleb had slowly eroded the last of her strength to persevere in this relationship.

"You're not—" Yasmin lowered her gaze.

Caleb scoffed. He wasn't surprised by her answer. He knew she had once held Jacob and her university senior in her heart. She had cared for them, but never him. Her marriage to him then was born of desperation.

Apart from the sound of running water from the bathroom, the massive room was eerily silent. Yasmin sat on the bed, hugging her knees as she stared at the firebird figurine on the bedside table. She wondered how things had come to this. Only minutes ago, she and Caleb had seemed to share a fleeting connection. Was it her remark about the card? Perhaps she had misspoken. After all, they were a married couple, and she had certain obligations as his wife.

Marrying him had once been her choice. He had helped her escape the Whitmore family's clutches. Her feelings for him had begun in this very room; there was a time when he had cherished her.

She looked toward the bathroom, a sudden determination flashing in her eyes. She strode over and knocked on the door. The sound of running water ceased, but there was no response. Knowing he could hear her, she stood outside and said coldly, "Caleb, open the door."

There was no response. Yasmin knocked again. Two seconds later, the bathroom door opened, releasing a plume of steam. Yasmin walked in without hesitation, causing Caleb to step back in surprise. Before he could react, she pressed her hands against his chest, pushing him further into the bathroom. Before he knew it, her soft lips were on his.

In their three years of marriage, this was the first time Yasmin had taken the initiative. Caleb's mind went blank for a moment before erupting into a frenzy. Yasmin didn't give him a chance to speak, mirroring his countless past actions towards her. The only difference was that her movements weren't as forceful as his. Caleb had always been drawn to Yasmin's body, so he instinctively returned the kiss.

The floor was wet, and Yasmin, barefoot, lost her balance, gasping. Caleb reacted quickly, wrapping his arms around her to prevent her fall.

Startled, Yasmin's eyes widened, shimmering with unshed tears. She looked breathtakingly delicate, and Caleb couldn't look away. "What's wrong?" He cupped her cheek, his voice hushed and laced with restraint. His dark eyes burned with desire, his Adam's apple bobbing as he struggled for control. His finger unconsciously traced circles against her waist, the cold bathroom tiles doing little to cool his burning body.

"Aren't you the one who wants this?" Yasmin asked, her voice slightly shaky.

"No," Caleb denied.

Yasmin shifted slightly in his hold. "Are you sure about that?"

Caleb showed no awkwardness. "What do I want?" His expression was dark. He kissed her lips and added in a low voice, "Minnie, I don't do vague dealings."

Yasmin recalled using this tactic to bargain with Caleb to spare Jay, but he had seen through her then and refused.

"This isn't a deal," Yasmin said, her silk nightdress damp and clinging to her body, revealing her curves. She tilted her head and met Caleb's gaze, making his throat tighten.

"I'm just feeling a little cold," Yasmin murmured, a soft whine in her voice. Caleb liked seeing her like this. The air in the damp bathroom grew thick. "Cold," Yasmin said weakly.

"No," Caleb replied stubbornly.

"My hand!" Yasmin suddenly exclaimed. Caleb instantly snapped to his senses and checked her hand. The white gauze was damp. "Sorry. Does it hurt?"

Yasmin had initially used her injury as an excuse, but seeing his worry, an indescribable feeling welled up in her chest.

"Go to the bed," she said, her eyes slightly teary. Caleb immediately complied, carrying her out of the bathroom.

"Does it still hurt?" He gently lifted her hand. "Shall I call the family doctor?"

"Use protection," Yasmin firmly pushed him away. "I don't want to see the doctor."

The urgency in her tone thoroughly excited him. He looked at Yasmin and whispered, "Doesn't my grandmother want a baby? Didn't you tell her you can't have children because you're sick?" He tilted her chin. "Mr. Grant, actions speak louder than words. Let's find out whether I'm truly sick or not, okay?"

"Which sickness were you referring to?" Yasmin asked.

Neither of them had explicitly stated it, but they both understood.

"I'm not sick," Caleb replied.

"You still have to use protection," Yasmin said firmly. As of now, she didn't want to get pregnant. If she ever did, she wanted her child born into a loving family.