"What do you mean, 'try what'?" Maeve asked, genuinely confused. Her heart pounded under Byron's intense, piercing stare. Flustered, she looked away and blurted, "If you don't take care of your back now, you'll regret it when you're older. Trust me." Byron's expression softened slightly, the heat in his gaze dimming. "If you're scared, stay out of my business," he muttered. His mind wandered back to her ex's taunts about Maeve being too uptight. But now, watching her squirm, it was obvious she lacked intimacy. No wonder she'd been naive enough to get close to him after he'd practically forced a kiss on her. He straightened, leaned back against the sofa, and clicked his tongue softly. "Maeve, are you even old enough for this?"

Maeve rolled her eyes, snapped the medical kit shut, and retorted, "Do you think I'd be married to you if I wasn't? I'm twenty-three!"

"Twenty-three..." Byron frowned. "That's still pretty young."

"Young? You're only four years older than me. Why the attitude?" Maeve stood, her tone annoyed. "And for the record, my age is on the marriage license. Did you even look at it?" A flicker of guilt crossed Byron's face. He probably hadn't.

Maeve noticed his reaction and raised an eyebrow. "Do you even still have the damn license?" She seriously doubted it.

"You're overthinking things," Byron replied smoothly. "It's late. You sure you want to keep arguing about our ages?"

Maeve was momentarily speechless. Wasn't he the one who started this? she thought.

The next morning, after a good night's sleep, Maeve felt refreshed, the weakness in her limbs mostly gone. She headed to the bathroom for a shower, and when she came out, she was about to toss her clothes in the washing machine when something caught her eye—Byron's suit jacket draped over the sofa. She picked it up. The hem was frayed, the cuffs were unraveling—it looked distinctly worn.

Maeve, primarily a women's fashion designer, wasn't well-versed in men's clothing. She'd never seen a design like this before and guessed it was simply worn out from heavy use. Is he still wearing it because he can't afford a new one? she wondered.

Lost in thought, she nearly jumped when Byron's voice came from behind her. "What's this, Maeve? Having a deep conversation with my jacket first thing in the morning?"

Maeve blushed and quickly explained, "I just noticed how worn out it looks. You might want to stop wearing it. Maybe get a new one?"

Byron's brow twitched. Most of his clothes were custom-made; he rarely bought off the rack. This jacket, which Maeve thought looked "worn out," was a brand-new, vintage-inspired piece from a renowned designer—entirely handmade. He was the first person ever to wear it. And now she was telling him to throw it away.

"No need. Don't make decisions for me," Byron shot back, flatly dismissing her suggestion.

Maeve figured he must be attached to the jacket because he wore it so much, so she offered, "How about I wash it for you?"

"Hand wash it. Don't even think about putting it in the machine."

"Fine."

After breakfast, Maeve and Byron left for work. Maeve had planned to take another day off for a check-up, but Piers wouldn't approve. Plus, there was a department gathering that night, so she had to wait until she resigned.

Piers, still angry at Jeff, was especially hard on her that day. He dumped a ton of busywork on her—more than twice her usual load—and even gave her tasks meant for the interns. She was even scolded in front of everyone for not delivering coffee fast enough.

By the end of the day, Maeve was physically and mentally drained. After work, she caught a ride with a coworker to the gathering spot—The Cloud Club. This place was one of the most exclusive clubs in Kleymond, with sky-high entry requirements.

Maeve was amazed at her coworkers' generosity but felt something was off. Before she could figure out what, her colleagues nudged her into a private room. "We're here, this is the place!"

Maeve looked up and saw someone sitting on the sofa who definitely shouldn't have been there.

"Long time no see, Maeve," Jeff said, one leg crossed over the other, his eyes cold and fixed on her. He sneered, "I've missed you like crazy these past few days."

This revised version improves grammar, punctuation, and flow. It removes unnecessary words and phrases, corrects sentence structure, and clarifies meaning. The oddly inserted promotional material was removed. The use of italics is for Maeve's internal thoughts.