They faced away from each other, the air thick with awkward tension neither seemed willing to acknowledge.

Exiting the elevator and opening her apartment door, Elizabeth paused, shifting aside to allow him space.

“Thank you,” she said. “Just place them by the door.” Her tone was polite but distant.

While she considered how to suggest Elijah leave, he had already deposited the items and sprawled comfortably on the sofa. Glancing back at her lingering near the entrance, he remarked casually, “I’m thirsty.”

His tone held a hint of entitlement. “Considering all the effort I’ve put in today, you wouldn’t refuse me a drink, would you?”

With a frosty expression, Elizabeth closed the door and went to the kitchen, intending to boil some water. Her hand paused on the kettle. A realization struck her—she was no longer obligated to cater to him. On days when cramps tormented her, she didn’t even pamper herself with a warm drink. Why would she extend this courtesy to a man who was practically a stranger?

Changing her mind, she retrieved a cola and a bottle of mineral water from the refrigerator. Approaching Elijah, she offered the mineral water with evident reluctance.

He scowled, ignoring it. “Cold drinks upset my stomach,” he grumbled.

Elizabeth shrugged dismissively. “That’s all I have,” she retorted, her voice edged with impatience.

His sudden fussiness was a stark contrast to his former self, who had thrived on iced coffee during grueling workdays. Her frequent, well-intentioned reminders only grated on his nerves.

With a nonchalant gaze on the cola in her hand, Elijah said lightly, teasingly, “I think I’ll help myself to that.”

Unwilling to indulge his whims, Elizabeth tossed the mineral water toward him before taking a long drink of her cola.